#but they actually just. aren’t changing/refuse to. they could. they’re just not going to

[venti-death-watch]

arlecchino & venti may both have their own personal views on freedom, but they’re absolutely not the same. idk why i keep seeing people saying they’re so similar

venti’s ideal of freedom isn’t an earned freedom in the way arle’s is. i keep seeing people say it is, but. he wasn’t the one over them? he was support. they decided they wanted freedom on their own, and fought for it. then he chose not to rule over them because they didn’t want him as a ruler like that and wanted to make their own decisions. he’ll help them whenever they’re having trouble, but ultimately, they’re deciding what they want for themselves and doing it. he’s just there to help

arlecchino actively keeps the house of hearth kids in the house and doesn’t let them leave in pain of death/painful memory removal. she may talk about freedom, but she’s also making them decide between potential death via her blade or potential death via the memory stuff if they want to leave. she’s the one actively deciding what freedom means for them, and deciding that they need to fight & be strong for it. yeah, she says she likes conviction over strength, but that’s only true like, ideologically. she let the trio off because she’s interested in their development and wants to see where lyney takes the house. she still makes them fight for their choices/potential freedoms

neither of them are bad characters or anything, and quite honestly i prefer arle being morally darker than the others. it has much better storyline follow through than ei’s. but whyyyy are you trying to defang her. she’s more fun this way

[isuckatwritingsobenice]

𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐞.

Synopsis: What I think Alastors wife would be like, if he had one of course.

Warnings: mentions of blood, pinning, harassment?, Alastor being himself, not in a specific time period but at some point shifts to hell? Let me know if anyone is interested in a part two!!

Navigation!! // Masterlist!! // Serendipity Writes (event)

Alastors wife probably didnt like him at first, and that’s a guarantee. He likes a challenge, but Alastor also likes being liked by people. It fills his ego, makes him feel good about himself. He likes to watch people stumble and fall but quite literally cracks under the pressure of doing just that when it comes to winning you over. Chances were he was constantly trying to figure you out, for two reasons. One, being that he didn’t understand how you couldn’t like him. I mean come on, look at him! He’s got the charm, the manners, the style and the class, the status. What more could you want? The second reason being, the more you denied him, the more he took it as a challenge, the more he wanted you.

Well, surprise surprise, you dont like people with an image to keep up; and to his dismay, that’s exactly what he does. He projects an image. One he refuses to change, and even after marrying you, still doesn’t drop the image, but starts to become more real and honest with himself.

“People who project an image of themselves to others are just trying to fool themselves into being someone they aren’t.” Was what you told him.

Alastor had also asked you out multiple times before you finally said yes. Everyone knows Alastor is very picky with the people he chooses to surround himself with. Everyone he associates with is either there to serve him, or to provide him with something, even if they’re unaware of it. Which only made you trust him less. What purpose did you serve him? What if one day he found you no longer useful and tossed you to the side? Well what were you to do then?

Denying him proved to be a challenge in itself, seeing that he’s quite literally everywhere all at once.

He’d try cheap tricks first. Buying you gifts, constantly showing up at your doorstep with a bouquet of flowers or a stuffed animal. One time he even got you a whole gift basket of your favorite treats. How sweet~ if it was actually about you and not him just trying to patch up his ego. Well at least that was what you thought on the matter.

If that didnt work he’d resort to going ghost. After all, people only miss you when you’re gone right? Well not in this case. He had left you alone physically, at least to your knowledge, but he had still kept a close watch on you. Why, he just knew it would bother you that he suddenly stopped! Until he overheard you speaking with a friend about how happy you were to finally get some peace and quiet. Well that simply wouldn’t do. After all, you should always make an impact, and what kind of impact would he be leaving on you if you went back to your old boring life? No no that just wont do dear.

He’ll start showing back up at your doorstep, taking you on surprise outing to force you to spend time with him. He’ll take you on a walk around a nearby park, a restaurant one day, the picture show the next. He has a long list of places to take you, so you’ll never go to the same place twice! Get your dancing shoes because he’s gonna take you out to the town for the night, after all the city never sleeps! This is when he becomes less forceful, but more of a decent calm. He begins to listen more when you speak, and you actually begin to care about what he’s saying, what a shock!

It’s almost like a switch flips after your outings. He’ll take you to an orchestra show, snickering to himself when he sees your eyes begin to water as the show closes out. He’ll force you to hold onto his arm as he walks you across the street on a rainy night, making sure you don’t slip or trip on the wet pavement. If you ever do, he’ll try his best to catch you and if he doesn’t? Oh what a nightmare, it seems he’s fallen too! For you that is~

You two begin to feel closer, not only physically but emotionally. He gets you to open up about your personal struggles, and in turn, he’ll share some of his own, but not too much. He doesn’t allow himself to be fully and completely vulnerable with you, not yet. But he does try his best to sympathize with you when you share your piece of mind with him. He feels accomplished to know this part of you, and his ego is the last thing on his mind anymore, but instead you take up all the space.

He doesn’t use pet names for you, not cute ones anyway. He’ll call you his devilish belladonna, especially if you love flowers. His creepy spider Lillie. He’ll often speak in the ‘language of flowers’, and will educate you on it if you don’t know so you know exactly what he’s talking about.

He’s the type of person to correct people in public to make them feel stupid, but he never does that with you. Instead he’ll wait until it’s just the two of you and tell you jokingly how wrong you were. You’ll get upset because he let you look like a fool, but in his mind he’s just protecting your feelings. If anyone else corrects you, they’ll have their mouth sewn shut that’s for sure!

He never gets you the same bouquet of flowers. They’re always different, and every week or so you have a new one. He keeps a separate batch for himself so he knows when to get you another. That being said he also makes the bouquets himself, he does not buy them for you already made.

When you finally take Alastor up on his offer to court you properly, he is over the moon about it! Finally, you seem to be coming to your senses dear! Though you quickly follow that comment up with a “Let the blood rush to your head first.” He just bats his lashes at you with a smile. You always know how to make him feel so loved!

Gets very jealous very easily. If he sees you laughing with someone that isn’t him, he’ll size them up before deciding if they’re a threat or not. Heaven forbid anyone actually put their hands on you and uh oh! Limb of the floor someone come get it!

His possessive nature is rooted in abandonment, and thus being said, he has deep attachment issues to you. You are never out of his sight when you two begin dating, and you’re hardly ever far from him in general. You two dress similarly too, especially if you’re from the same era. He’ll switch up your wardrobe slowly so it complements his.

He isn’t one for strong PDA unless he feels like he needs too or just has a strong want too. Usually it’s an arm around your waist, or you hanging onto his arm loosely. The most he’ll ever really do is a kiss on the back of your hand or to your temple. That being said, he’s like this for various reasons.

One, he has a lot of enemies, which means that not not only does that put you in danger, but if you’re also a powerful overlord, it puts him at risk too, though he doesn’t care much about that part.

Second, he doesn’t like physical contact much, and though he always makes an exception for you, he has his image and pristine reputation to keep up. Which you extremely dislike but tolerate because it’s Alastor and if he hasn’t changed much in centuries, nothings going to change ever.

Alastor is very very fond of you, whether you believe it or not. Your fiery attitude has him whipped more than he likes to admit. He’ll joke with other sinners that he’d sacrifice you to save himself but you both know that isn’t true, his nervous ticks prove it to be false, if you do say so yourself.

He’s very fidgety. He’ll tug a piece of your clothing or twirl a strand of your hair between his claws. If you claim he’s messing up your hair he’ll cast a tornado of shadows around you to fuck it up even more, and then smiling at you lovingly when you threaten to cut his ears off because you can’t tell if they’re his hair or just furry ass ears. You always give him a good laugh.

Other sinners are actually convinced you both hate each other, but turf wars on the news show that you two are the most in love when you’re wreaking havoc on innocent sinners for no possible reason other than the fact you two had an argument and the best way to settle it? Dancing in the rain, which actually isn’t rain, just blood falling from the sky because you like to kill people for fun.

“My darling looks the best in red if I do say so myself! Especially if she’s dressed by another’s remains, oh the beauty!”

Alastor has and will continue to get in his feelings about you and his mother getting along so well. He loves you both to pieces, so seeing his two favorite people together makes his dead heart swell with joy.

He’ll ask you to accompany him to the tailors, he values your opinion more than others so you often make adjustments to his suit and he’s just like ‘Whatever she says that’s what’s going on the suit.’ You also make him your personal dressing doll, trying different patterns and styles on him for fun. Alastor is a true skinny jeans hater and he will die on that hill, again. He really appreciates the 60’s style, but prefers to stick to his own decade.

He will take you out hunting with him, and the two of you share breakfast together with the fresh meat you’ve caught. He only gets the best quality for you because he refuses to have you two ‘eating like chums’. A restaurant tried to lie to the two of you, saying their meat was high quality and fresh. Alastor killed everyone in it and you two shared remains like a true power couple. Hells finest of course. ;)

He’s very critical of picking out jewelry for you. Hunting for the perfect ring for you took him ages, mainly because he knew exactly what he wanted but no jeweler had what he wanted all in one ring. So instead he forces them to make him a custom one. Torn limbs and bloody parts later, you have the ring that Alastor worked so hard to give you. He proposes to you Extermination day, claiming he’d love to spend another year in hell with you before the angels come to rip you two apart from each other. It was such a sweet day, at least to you it was.

The type of relationship where he plays the piano and you sing. He loves when you sing and will gush about you to anyone in sight even if he doesn’t know them.

Is very needy in private. He’s a stage 10000 clinger, and will stick to you like his life depends on it, but will be damned if anyone catches him. You don’t tell anyone about it, you like the private life.

You two have cook offs all the time. You make the hotel staff judge, and ultimately Niffty is the tie breaker because she’s brutally honest. Once she told Alastor he should stay out of the kitchen because women were better at it for a reason… harsh!

He was fine though, he got her back by ridding the hotel of bugs. He knows she likes chasing them around and for that she sobbed at his feet for ten minutes asking him to bring them back. It didn’t take much actually, Sir Pentious brought them back on his own, much to Charlies dismay.

He loves to read with you. You two often read a book and once you both finish you have a tea session over it. It starts off being about the book and then somehow shifts to just gossiping and talking shit about the other overlords, except for Rosie, we love Rosie in this household.

Speaking of, Rosie is usually where you get your clothes from. She’s a sweetheart when she isn’t picking pieces of muscle from her teeth, that sharp smile is a killer! She loves to talk about Alastor with you, and usually she’s where you go after you two have had an argument. You’re also her personal Barbie doll. She puts you in outfits and she and Alastor judge over them. Nine times out of ten you leave her boutique with a new wardrobe every time.

Now let’s talk about Vox.

Honestly the whole reason Vox knows about you is probably because he was digging through Alastors shit. But when he sees you? Oh lord, this man is HOOKED.

He doesn’t even know how Alastor managed to get you entangled with him. He finds out about you when you and Alastor aren’t dating yet, and he basically jumps at his chance to try to be with you.

Vox will forever consider you the one that got away, you can’t change my mind.

Alastor has proven time and time again that he’s basically better than Vox. He took a seven year back, came on the radio one day and boom all his viewers were back. In Alastors mind there’s no competition, just Vox being obsessed with the fact Alastor said no.

Valentino uses it against Vox all the time, and it will always make Vox buffer.

[fishing-lesbian-catgirl]

All of Pokémon’s attempts to make the ice type better through system changes to moves and weather are so funny because they refuse to address the actual problem

No resistances and no immunities except to itself along with weaknesses to really common types. They’re so committed to the idea of ice being a glass canon that’s fragile yet powerful except the offensive capabilities aren’t nearly enough to offset the defensive flaws. So instead of running them as glass canon sweepers they just run ice beam for coverage on anything that can learn it. Very few ice pokemon are actually statted to be glass canons either, instead there’s a lot of them that are large pokemon you’d assume are bulky but actually die super easily due to overwhelming weaknesses. Like Avalugg’s stats and moves are solid, but it doesn’t matter and never will matter unless they give it Filter or something else to deal with its weaknesses, and even then it wouldn’t have any resists to use to its advantage. Ice’s unique weather condition, snow, is supposed to help by giving a big defense boost to ice types and enabling aurora veil, but if an entire pokemon type is dependent completely on weather conditions and a specific utility move to not be killed instantly by basically anything I’m afraid I have to say it’s probably not a good type. And what baffles me is that ice as an element and force of nature is far from what I’d consider weak, it’s hard it’s cold, it’s dangerous. An individual icicle might break at the slightest touch but if you try to punch through a block of ice it’s going to hurt. If it were me I’d give it a few resistances, at least one to fairy because it feels thematically appropriate and the fairy type could use a small nerf like that, but the fact that ice doesn’t even resist fucking grass or bug or normal is absolutely ridiculous to me. And if they’re really that committed to making it defensively terrible, couldn’t they at least invest into making its offensive potential actually meaningful in a way that helps ice types and not just Pokémon using ice moves. I mean snow doesn’t even boost the power of ice moves or weaken the power of other types of moves it just gives ice types defense and activates some abilities making it the weather effect with the least immediate benefits out of all of them. There are so many cool ice type pokemon and almost all of them are completely terrible and that’s really sad to see go unchanged for this long

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

DRABBLE: THEY’RE YOUR BLIND V-DAY DATE ❤️🍷💕 (CROSSOVER ANIME) (18+) (For Black!Fem!Readers)

Writer’s Note: Got another something for V-Day for y’all. I decided to do one for multiple anime characters cuz I’m a slut for all them 2D characters & couldn’t decide on one specific show lol. Plus it sounded fun! And important disclaimers I’ll just make a note of before the actual Drabble. I hope y’all enjoy! ☺️🥰 -Jazz

********

LEVI ACKERMAN (AOT)

The first night, you’re nervous, to say the least, especially when Hange warns you about his appearance. 

“Why?” you had asked over margaritas and tacos, already perplexed and slightly unnerved by her warning. “Is he really ugly or something?” 

Hange, sitting across from you in her glasses with her locks of long, chestnut brown hair cascading down her shoulders, shook her head. “No, no, my dear!” she immediately protested. “He’s actually quite handsome despite the broody thing. But he does have some scars from a mission gone wrong at his job and he’s blind in one eye.”

She took a sip of her margarita as if to soften the next blow. “And he’s missing a leg,” she finished. 

You were taken aback, to say the least, but you didn’t let that stop you. You aren’t prejudiced and you refused to let that stop you from at least giving Hange’s friend a chance.

Apparently, Levi has been a firefighter for a couple of years and has recently broken up with a longtime girlfriend, so Hange figured he could get back into the dating pool and realize that there are great girls out there starting with you! 

So the weekend of Valentine’s Day, Hange texts you the name of the restaurant and you take an Uber there after spending the entire day doing your hair, picking out an outfit, and giving yourself a makeover. You decided on a soft glam look as this is the first time you’re meeting the guy and a pretty, red dress that hugs your frame and zips in the back. 

When you get out of the Uber in front of the quaint and low-key yet romantic restaurant, you take a table near the door so it’ll be easier to see Levi walk in and flag him down. You still have no idea what he looks like, only that he’ll be wearing a black trench coat, he’s kinda short, and he has a large scar going over his eye.

“His team calls him Scar, apparently,” Hange laughed. “It helps that he has a smooth, deep voice too!” 

You admit that you were curious to see him and hear that “smooth, deep” voice she told you about. So you sit and order a glass of wine, waiting for his arrival as you stare out at the passing cars and people…only he never comes.

You wait and you wait and you wait, but he never shows his face. You call Hange, thinking maybe you have the wrong restaurant or time or day, but all is correct. You think that maybe he’s in traffic or something came up, but Hange never calls to tell you either. 

When your appetizer comes and the candle sitting in the middle of the table begins to melt, you feel your heart sink to the pit of your stomach. You’ve been stood up.

The realization hits you like a brick to the face. Quickly, you order the check and a box for your food and pay the waiter before running out of the restaurant in tears. You feel stupid. Wasteful. Foolish in your pretty dress and heels. 

Hange comes over to see you with the quickness when you tell her that night, ice cream and face masks in tow. “I can’t believe him!” she says, enraged, with a sheet mask on her face. “He told me he’d be there and then he doesn’t show up? Who does he think he is? Why, I’m gonna give that man a piece of my–“ 

“Don’t Hange,” you sigh, shoveling another spoonful of ice cream into your mouth. “Just leave it be. He probably just changed his mind or wasn’t ready.”

You are ready to move on and forget it, but the universe doesn’t let you. A week later while at work of all places, you get an unknown call. Thinking it’s one of those scammers, you give a sharp “hello”. 

“Uh…hi,” a smooth, deep, velvety voice replies. “This is Levi, Hange’s friend. This is Y/N, correct?”

You heart drops into your ass and it takes a moment for you to reply. “Uh, y-yeah,” you answer. “Yeah, this is her. You’re Hange’s friend? Did you get my number from her?” 

“I had to,” Levi replies, his voice making your stomach do flips. “I’m sorry if that’s weird, but I just…”

He pauses, sighing. “I had to talk to you,” he finishes, sounding completely beaten. “I’m so sorry for not coming last week. I was so afraid for you to see me because of my appearance. I was so sure you'd find me unattractive and not like what you see. I’m very insecure in that and I let it get the best of me, but that doesn’t mean you deserved that. Hange already went up my ass about it.” 

You softly giggle, knowing she would. "So, if you don’t despise me too much and you’re willing, can we meet up for dinner this Friday night if you’re free?”

He sounds hopeful and slightly afraid. You don’t know why you say yes, but you do and you make plans to meet for ramen on Friday. When the day comes, you wear a more casual outfit–-a pretty cashmere sweater, jeans, and some boots––but still style your hair and makeup to look presentable. ‘Second time’s a charm, I guess,’ you think. 

It’s a dry, cool night so you wait outside the restaurant for Levi to arrive, texting him that you’re there prior to your arrival. Ten minutes into waiting, you think he isn’t going to show and that he duped you again, but then your phone rings. Your heart leaps at the sight of his caller ID and you answer. “Hello?” you answer, noticing how breathless you sound. 

“Look up,” Levi says and you do, seeing him standing before you across the street under a streetlight.

The soft light illuminates his features: a sharp jawline and cheekbones, soft, pale skin, one eye the color of a gray ocean, and the other milky where a long scar runs from his eyebrow to his cheek. He walks towards you slowly with a slight gate in his step, his hand on his left leg where his prosthetic is, and finally makes it over to you. He is extremely attractive and smells like toasted vanilla.

“You’re Y/N, I take it?” he asks, a small smile on his face. 

“And you’re Levi,” you reply, your heart battering against your ribcage.

He gives a slight nod, his one eye roaming over your frame. “My God, you’re stunning,” he chuckles as if he can hardly believe it. “Even more than that the first night. I had come, but I never went into the restaurant. I was so intimidated by the way you looked that I just–“ 

“Stop,” you interrupt, not liking the thought of him standing outside looking into the restaurant window at you, feeling so horrible about his looks.

“That was then and this is now. And you’re wrong, by the way.”

One of Levi’s eyebrows raises in confusion. “I do like what I see,” you say, your voice soft and shy. “For the record, you’re one of the sexiest guys I’ve ever laid my eyes on.” 

The laugh Levi lets out just about fills you with joy and you just about melt before he holds the door for you to enter the restaurant, not so discreetly staring at your ass as he does.

NANAMI KENTO (JJK)

He’s a professor and he’s a blonde is what you’re told by Gojo…but that’s about all he tells you, the asshole. 

“You’re asking me to go on a date with a dude I don’t even know and you won’t even tell me what he looks like?”

You’re sitting with him at brunch with bottomless mimosas when he runs it by you. You get the feeling he just invited you out with the promise of mimosas, good omelettes, and paying just to toss this at you. 

Gojo gives you his big, gigawatt smile as he sits across from you wearing his usual shades. “Trust me, babe! He’s a good and attractive guy! If I wasn’t taken, I’d fuck him myself.” He snorts to himself, shoveling some eggs into his mouth. “But I don’t even think I’m his type.” 

From what you gathered at the start of brunch, Kento Nanami is Gojo’s very stoic, very introverted, very lonely friend who is in need of a date this upcoming Valentine’s Day. Though intelligent and handsome, Nanami isn’t too good with women and hasn’t been in a romantic relationship is quite some time.

“I swear, he’s not an incel,” Gojo swears, one hand on his heart and the other held high. “He loves women! He’s just…awkward.” 

You aren’t sure if you like that answer. “What if I meet him and I don’t like him?” you ask, taking a break from your mimosa. “I mean, I’m only agreeing to this because you said you’d pay me.”

And Gojo did. He figures you’re the perfect girl––smart, pretty, and funny––to bring Nanami out of his shell. “$50,” he sing-songs. “And if you hate his guts, you'll get another $50, I promise. But give him a chance, Y/N! He needs it!” 

To not hear him whine and beg, you roll your eyes and agree. Gojo arranges for you to meet with Nanami at a winter light show in the park that is done every year. It’s the perfect place to meet since it’s romantic and very populated.

You dress in your warmest and cutest coat before hurrying to meet Nanami, your boots crunching in the snow. The park is decorated in twinkling lights that line the trees, walkways, and fountains. 

You’re so enchanted by the lights that you barely see the slick of ice lining the sidewalk. You misstep and your left foot goes skidding. “Oh, shit!” you gasp as you fall, but you don't feel the ground or the cold snow.

You don’t feel anything at all except two warm, strong arms wrapped around you. You look up into the warm eyes of an older man. An older, extremely attractive man with a blonde undercut and wearing a tan wool coat. “Are you alright, miss?” he worriedly asks. His voice is deep yet warm and sweet like honey.

You’re so taken by the stranger that you barely notice that he has set you upright. “Um…yeah,” you answer albeit softly. 

You blink at him, noticing how tall and well-built he is behind his coat. His hands are strong and capable and you find yourself staring at them even when he shoves them into his pocket. “Nanami?” you hesitantly question.

You watch his darker blonde brows furrow in confusion then rise in realization. “You’re Y/N,” he realizes. “Forgive me. Gojo didn’t tell me what you’d look up or what you’d be wearing.” 

You think you see his eyes trailing over you, but you can’t focus on it for too long. “That’s okay,” you laugh. “That’s Gojo, for you. How do you know him?”

Nanami begins to walk with you to the line at the entrance gate to enter the event, keeping the same slow pace as you. “We went to the same high school and remained friends ever since. How did you meet him?” 

“We met through a mutual friend and just clicked,” you explain. “Her name is Shoko.” Recognition crosses Nanami’s face at the name. “Shoko?” he asks, a light flickering in his eyes. “I know her as well. We all went to the same school.” 

“What a coincidence!” you giggle, glad to have something to break the ice (other than your fall). “Thank you again for helping me. I know I’m dumb for wearing these things in the snow.” You nod down at your heeled boots to which Nanami only stares at, never smiling. His expression is unreadable and slightly intimidating. But you can tell it’s just awkwardness. Now you see what Gojo meant. 

But rather than be unnerved by it, you find yourself wanting to break through it. You want to get to the warm core of this man. “Um…should we walk?” you ask, nodding at the entrance gate. Nanami nods but looks slightly worried.

“Will you be alright?” he asks, still staring at your feet. “You may want to hold onto me.” He offers you his arm, a slight tinge of pink to his cheeks that one could pass off for the cold. Your heart leaps at the chance to touch him, even be near him. 

“What a gentleman,” you chuckle. “I didn't think chivalry still existed.” You take his coat sleeve and let him lead you through the entrance into the park’s first trail.

A chuckle that makes your stomach flip and your pussy leap leaves Nanami’s mouth. “I wouldn’t say all of that but thank you. I would just think I’m being a good human being. So Gojo told me about your job. What is that like?” 

The park is truly beautiful, decorated head to toe with lights that twinkle and dance. But you’re not focusing on the lights; just Nanami and his conversation. For such a stoic guy, he can really hold a conversation.

He tells you all about his job as a professor and his students; what subjects he likes; his life outside of work. He asks you about you and all of your habits, hobbies, and joys. He listens intently, putting them all in his brain’s filing cabinet. You find similarities about each other, including favorite books, movies, and your love for the beach. 

The date lasts for an hour and you enjoy every minute of it. You like being around Nanami, enjoying his stale humor and shy smile. More than anything, you like his presence.

You like how soft his wool coat feels under your finger. You like how he keeps his arm at reach, even when you release him at times. You like how he keeps the same pace as you, never walking too fast and always staying at your side, his black leather shoes tapping against the concrete.

You’re feeling him and you want to let him know that when you finally reach the end of the park where the last attraction, an ice sculptor decorated in lights, stands. 

“Wow,” you sigh. “So pretty.” 

Nanami stands next to you as you stare up in awe at the attraction. “Yes,” he agrees, though he isn’t looking at the lights. His attention is solely on you.

He likes the way the lights illuminate your skin which contrasts with his. He likes the brown of your eyes, so warm and tempting like chocolate. He likes your humor and sweet laugh. He likes you and he isn’t too shy to show it. You can see it when you turn and find him already staring at you, bold and heated. 

He is sexy. He is alluring. And you want him. “Nanami?” you shyly ask.

His eyebrows raise, acknowledging your question. You turn to him fully and stare up at him through your lashes. “I don’t usually do this, but…would you want to come home with me?”

He is silent, staring at you wordlessly, and your stomach flips with discomfort. “For coffee, maybe?” you add. 

Nanami doesn’t have to be asked again.

To end such a perfect date, you find yourself on your back with Nanami on top of you, looking so handsome above you as he pounds your pussy into the mattress. His big hands pin your thighs apart and up to his broad shoulders, your painted toes and skin contrasting deliciously with his lighter skin.

“So pretty,” he groans. “You were the prettiest thing there tonight. Fuck, darling, you’re so tight!” 

He thrusts into you harder, faster, making the bed squeak and you lose your voice from how loud you moan. You can feel yourself about to cum after so much foreplay and stimulation (Nanami is a gentle lover).

“Kento,” you whine, digging your nails into his shoulders. “I’m gonna cum! Please…please cum with me!” 

And he does. At the sound of you begging, he bursts inside of you with a ragged groan as you cum all over his big cock, your pussy walls squeezing around him and stroking his shaft.

As you do, his lips find yours, giving you a passionate kiss that could melt the ice with how hot it is. 

NICO ROBIN  (One Piece)

*Note: Reader is plus-sized! 

Nami swore up and down that you needed to go on a date for Valentine’s Day to forget about your short-term “situationship”. 

“Just give a chance, Y/N,” she said to you over ramen. She treated you to lunch at the best ramen place in town while you were on your work break. “It’s just for one night and I can’t stand the thought of my best friend alone on Valentine’s Day! And she’s a great girl, seriously!” 

You looked down at your bowl of ramen, feeling hot under your sweater dress that clung to your plump body. The idea of a blind date didn’t appeal to you much, especially being such a big girl. Usually, when people got a look at you, they either ghosted you after the first date or didn’t give you the time of day. Why did she think this was a good idea?

“Just be careful,” Zoro said, shoveling spicy miso ramen into his mouth. “She’ll charm the pants off of you…or skirt…whatever you’ll be wearing.” Nami smacked him on the the arm hard, making the green-haired hunk hiss in pain. “Don’t listen to him, honey. Robin is just a sweet-talker. You have nothing to worry about!” 

But when you finally get a look at your date, you don’t think that’s true. Nami set the date up at a high-scale bar where the working class and hotshot businessmen come for happy hour.

When you walk in, you immediately feel self-conscious despite looking oh-so yummy in your waistband coat that flares around your waist and pink dress that makes your skin and brown eyes pop. But the dress also sticks to your body, accentuating each curve, ripple, and roll. Though your stomach ripples with nerves, you also feel slightly confident catching eyes under the warm lights above. 

You sit at the sleek bar and order yourself a cocktail to loosen up a bit more while you search for your date at the door. Nami only told you that she’s “tall with long black hair and might be wearing purple”.

You’re curious as to what this girl is like and if she likes what she sees. You sip on your cocktail and scroll through your phone for a couple of minutes, completely unaware of the eyes you have captured from down at the bar. 

When you turn around in your stool to place your glass down, you find another cocktail sitting behind you. Confused, you flag down the bartender. “I didn’t order this,” you tell him, pushing the glass towards him. “It was sent to you,” he explains. “From down at the bar.” You look in that direction, but find no one paying any attention to you. “But I have a date,” you protest. “I can't accept this.” 

“That’s correct,” a sweet yet smooth and sultry voice purrs behind you, “and it’s usually rude to deny a drink from her.” The voice causes your body to react instantly: the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end; your heart pounds in your chest; your stomach flips. You turn and see your blind date standing behind you in the flesh. 

Beautiful isn’t a word to use for Robin. She is absolutely stunning. A straight vixen oozing confidence and poise as she stands behind you in a purple cocktail dress that illuminates her soft, pale skin and blue eyes that steal the air from your lungs.

She is tall and slender with piano fingers painted in a dark rouge that you want to feel wrapped around your body, but has a rack that can stop traffic and is definitely catching eyes. Her long, shiny, black locks of hair cascade down her slender shoulders, catching the light above. You are in awe of her and her beauty as are the others in the bar. 

“Y/N?” she asks in her alluring voice. Wordlessly, you nod and close your mouth to avoid looking like an idiot. “I’m Nico Robin, Nami’s friend. She’s told me so much about you.” She puts a slender hand out to shake yours, giving you a whiff of her luxurious-smelling perfume and a peek of golden Tiffany bracelet. 

You put your hand in hers, feeling warm from her touch. “N-Nice to meet you,” you stutter. “Please, have a seat. Do you want a drink?” Robin raises her brows questionably as she settles onto a stool next to you. You flush under the lights, thanking God that he made you Black. “It’s only right since you ordered me one.” 

Robin smiles, her pearly whites and dimples making you damn near melt. “How sweet of you,” she giggles. She orders herself a dirty Martini with extra olives and thanks you again when it comes. “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting. I got caught up in some work.” She slowly crosses her soft, long, milky legs over one another. You do your best not to stare. 

You give her a smile, pretending that you’re not turned the fuck on by her, and lean your elbow against your chin. “So you’re an archaeologist, right? That’s such an interesting job.”

She smiles at the compliment and at the mention of her career as you sip your cocktail. “Well, I’ve always been attracted to history since I was young. I’m attracted to intelligence too, which you seem to have a lot of.” Her smile turns flirty and now you know what Zoro was talking about. You’re already charmed by her. “Tell me: what’s your job like?” she asks. 

Your conversations last for hours and flow perfectly, especially after you get your second drink in you. You tell her about your job and quietly gush over her curiosity and awe, realizing how much she loves learning. You talk about everything, from city life to books to anime, learning that you both love magical girl anime, especially Sailor Moon.

You didn't expect that from Robin because of how poised she is and her love for dark colors, but as soon as you mention Sailor Moon, her eyes widen in excitement. “I love Sailor Moon!” She laughs. “I cosplayed as Sailor Mars two Halloweens ago. I bet you’d look so pretty as a Sailor Scout, especially with the skirt.” 

That’s another thing you learn about Robin: she’s a flirt. She sneaks in little sly compliments to obviously make you flustered…and it’s working. You try to do the same, complimenting her on her outfit and her smile. “I can see why everyone is so fond of you in here,” you say, nodding at the group of businessmen playing pool who are not so discreetly staring at you both from across the room.

Robin giggles, turning back to you with a hooded gaze. “Too bad,” she sighs, not at all sounding disappointed. “I’m here with you.” 

As the night goes on, it gets looser as you both become more comfortable with each other. You talk about everything and anything, telling each other funny stories and showing pictures of your pets. “You’re a dog mom too?” you coo, gushing over her wallpaper of her and a fluffy, brown animal dressed as Santa Claus though he has pointed ears and horns.

“Reindeer mom,” she corrects you and titters at your confusion. “It’s a long story, but that’s my perfect little boy. His name is Chopper.” 

Other than Robin being a sweet-talker as Nami said, you also find out many other things about this alluring, attractive woman. Like how much she loves plays and Disney movies, becoming so excited when you ask her about her favorite films. “I love musicals,” she shyly says, an endearing blush on her face. “Can you tell I’m a secret theatre kid?”

Or how she tends to ramble about information she’s obtained from books and documentaries about tribes long gone and age-old urban legends. You could listen to her talk for hours. Unbeknownst to you, she feels the same about you whenever you speak about yourself and your interests. 

As the alcohol takes its affect on you both, she also tells you that she’s a devil fruit user, a term you’ve heard before since many in the world are, including your mutual friend Luffy. When you ask her about her ability, she just winks behind her third martini glass. “A woman never draws all of her cards…not all at once, anyway.” 

As the night draws on, so do the drinks and soon, you’re feeling loose and bold. You decide to show her your hidden talent which is rolling your eyes to the right and the left. “I can wiggle my ears too,” you say, showing her much to her amusement. She applauds you, giggling at your talent. “My, you’re full of surprises,” she giggles. “And so am I.” 

You suddenly feel something tickling your sides and look down to see two disembodied hands tickling you. Robin’s hands. You look at her in shock as she retracts her extra arms, using them to grab her third martini and take a sip. “The perks of being a devil fruit user,” she chuckles. At the sight of your expression, she grows concerned. “Do they frighten you?” 

“No,” you answer honestly. “They’re…” You stare at her extra hands, wondering how many more she has and how they would feel on your body. “Pretty,” you decide to answer with. That is enough for Robin to decide what she wants from you tonight. 

So when you’re both still sitting there when the bar is emptying out, she makes it known. “Oh, dear,” she sighs, exhaling in disappointment as the bartenders clean and the drunk crowd empties out. “It appears that our date has become to an end.” She turns to you, placing a warm hand on yours. “I really enjoyed meeting you, Y/N,” she says, a smile on her face that makes you ache. 

You don’t want tonight to end. You don’t want her to go. You need more of her touch. She seems to understand and see the mutual disappointment in your eyes because she doesn’t release your hand.

“Unless you want this night to continue,” she adds, her voice like honey in your ears. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t very attracted to you too, unless I’m mistaking the chemistry.”

You can’t speak, so you shake your head and her eyes twinkle. She leans in toward you, engulfing you in her scent. “Just say the words and I’ll go with you,” she whispers into your ear. 

Desire overwhelms you and you squeeze her hand, interlacing your fingers. “I’ll call a Lyft,” you exhale. Robin smiles, keeping her hand in yours. 

She doesn’t let go even hours later when your fingers are interlaced with each other while your legs are pinned open by her extra hands on the bed. Your moans and whimpers fill the darkness of your bedroom as she moves her tongue against your clit, moaning eagerly and sloppily into your pussy as she eats you like there is no tomorrow.

“Now I can really show you how good I am with my hands,” she giggles, looking up at you between your thighs. “You’re so cute like this, pretty girl.” 

You can feel that knot in your core tightening the more she moves her jaw, going faster and faster until you have no choice. “Robin,” you whine. “I'm gonna…gonna…!” Your back arches and your legs shake around Robin’s face. 

Her hold on you tightens, her hands gripping your thighs.“Cum for me, gorgeous,” she hums. “I’ve got you. Cum all over my face like a good girl.”

One thing is for sure while you gush around Robin’s face, loving how she eagerly laps up everything you give her: another date is definitely in the future for you and her.

PRO!KATSUKI BAKUGOU & KIRISHIMA EJIROU (BHNA)

*Note: Reader is plus-sized & a bimbo! 

*Disclaimer: Bakugou & Kiri are both aged-up (over the age of 18) in this drabble! 

You don’t know why you agreed to do this blind date thing, but your friend put you up to it after she reminded you of your NY resolution to try new things to help yourself. 

“You need to put yourself out there more, girl!” she argued over the phone with you. “Do you see how hot you are?! You deserve to have someone on your arm!” You pouted as you painted your toe nails a pretty bubblegum pink, your feet hanging over you bathtub smelling like vanilla bubblebath. 

Though she is right about you deserving a nice guy to tell you how pretty you are, most of the guys you dated either used you as arm candy, hit in then quit it, or just stopped talking to you because of your, uh…bimbo-ness. You know you have no filter and sometimes you do come off as dumb, but you’re trying your best! And you’re kind and the sweetest person anyone will ever meet! Isn’t that enough? 

“Yeah, but a blind date though?” you complained into the phone sitting on your sink. “How am I gonna go on a date if I can’t see, girl?” You gasped, even more mortified. “Or will my date be blind?! How will be able to see me and my cute outfit?!” 

Your friend just laughed. She knows you’re not the brightest crayon in the box, but you’re just too cute and sweet. “Honey, no! A blind date is when you meet someone you’ve never seen or met before. Someone else sets the date up for you.”

Your heart resumed its normal pattern and you relaxed into the water. “Ohhh,” you realized with a giggle. “Well, if you’re setting it up, can you tell me anything about him?”

Your friend refused, much to your dismay. “Nope, but you’ll meet him later this week. Saturday night at 7 PM, don’t be late. I’ll give you all the details before then.” You hung up, a bit nervous but excited, already picturing your outfit for the day. 

The Saturday of Valentine’s Day weekend, you go to the cafe your friend tells you to go to which is only a few blocks from your apartment. You dress in a pink sweater that does nothing to hide your voluptuous bosom and a pretty, cherry red skit that hugs your tummy and voluptuous ass, the damn thing so short that the ruffles stop mid-thigh, a sliver of your asscheeks seen whenever you bend over. You pair your V-Day outfit with some warm stockings and high black boots before putting on your favorite fluffy, pink coat. 

An hour later after putting on some vanilla-scented body spray and giving your lips a slick of your favorite Fenty Gloss in a sparkly pink, you stand in line to order your food, hoping that will ease your nerves over today. Because your friend loves you so much, she set you up for two dates today: one at the cafe and the other later tonight at your favorite bar.

Your first date is a redheaded hunk, according to your friend. “He’s got red hair and he’s a fucking giant,” she giggles. “And he’s SUPER fine. You’ll know him when see him.” You melted at the details. “I do like big guys,” you sigh dreamily. Your second date is just as fine, but a hothead. “My friend works with him at his agency and apparently, he’s got a mouth.” Your friend rolled her eyes. "The dude is like a pit bull, but he's so fucking sexy.” 

“I’m a little nervous though,” you mumbled, starting to feel insecure. “You think he’ll like me?” Your friend looked at you like you were insane, making you laugh. “Who wouldn’t? You’re adorable!” 

And you feel adorable when you go next to the counter and the cashier’s eyes shoots straight to your tits. You don’t notice, too busy feening for some sweet, sugar coffee. “Hi, can I please get a peppermint mocha latte with two pumps of caramel, please?” You are so damn cute that the guy blushes and quickly rings you up. You pay and thank him when you get your drink before walking off, but stop when something captures you. 

There, hidden behind a glass container behind the counter, are a bunch of seasonal-flavored doughnuts lined up in a row. Your eyes immediately go for the one coated in pink frosting, powdered sugar, and red and pink sprinkles. “Oooh,” you coo to yourself. “So pretty.” 

“Agreed,” says a raspy, sexy voice from behind you. You turn a little too quickly and a bit of coffee sloshes over the top of your drink and onto the crotch of the guy standing behind you. “Oops, I’m so sorry!” you gasp. “I didn’t even see you! Oh, it’s gonna stain! Here, quick!” You quickly reach for a wad of napkins and begin to dab at the man’s crotch, not even realizing how it looks. 

Still not even bothering to look up, the blonde furiously blushes while the redhead behind him stifles a laugh. “That’s quite okay,” he chuckles. “At least now he smells like peppermint down there.” The blonde growls like he wants to commit murder. “Plus, Katsuki was standing way too close to you in line, weren’t you, ‘Suki?” 

You hand the napkins over to the blonde, hyper-focused on the nickname. “‘Suki,” you giggle. “That’s such a cute…” Your words die in you when you finally, finally, look up into the eyes of the two finest, sexiest men you’ve ever seen in your life.

One of them has long, red hair cascading down his broad shoulders, fanged teeth that flash at you as he smiles, friendly, crimson eyes, and piercings––dangling from his ears, embedded in his eyebrow, and snakebites in his bottom lip.

The other sports a platinum blonde undercut and a scowl that slightly softens at the sight of you. He, too, has crimson eyes that widen at your pretty face and outfit and one piercing in his plump bottom lip. The only things similar about the duo are how tall, buff, and sexy they both are. “Name,” you weakly finish. “I-I’m Y/N.” 

The redhead grins, putting his big ass hand out for a shake. “Ejirou,” he says, “but my friends call me Kiri.” You do so, noticing how calloused his palm is and how much his sweater stretches against his pecs. The blonde has the same issue, his V-neck shirt way too tight for his toned body. “Bakugou,” he grumbles, giving you an intense stare that makes you melt on the inside. 

Those gears in your head start turning and you gape at the duo. “Wait…I know you two!” you gasp. “You guys are those superheroes, right? Dynamight and Red Riot!” Kiri tosses his head back and laughs while Bakugou glares daggers at you. “Damn, could you be any louder?” he growls. You cover your mouth, flushing with embossment. “Sorry!” you whisper. "I’m just a big fan of you two! I almost didn’t recognize you in normal clothes. I have your posters and all of your merch!” 

Kiri gives Bakugou a look that he would seeing a cat do something cute. And that is what you are: a cute little kitty. Something adorable and sweet yet you have a sexiness to you that both men are coming to find. “Well, it's always a pleasure to meet a fan. Especially such a cute one.” He grins at the way you giggle bashfully. “I’m guessing you’re a fan of sweets? Me too. I was actually planning on getting one of those for my boyfriend, my date, and I.” 

You notice Kiri gaze at Bakugou when he says “my boyfriend” and you quietly gush to yourself. “Oh, you two are dating?” you coo, much to Bakugou’s dismay. He’s so cute when he blushes! “That’s so sweet! Here, I’ll treat you guys to ‘em to make up for that nasty spill.” 

Kiri is just about ready to scoop you up and take you home with them when you dig into your bag for your Hello Kitty wallet. “Well, isn’t that sweet? You up for somethin’ sweet, Katsuki?” 

Though Bakugou feels the same way, he still wants to feel you out and see if this “bimbo-esque” personality you’ve got going on is a fake. “It’s whatever,” he grumbles. “But you’d better get me the chocolate one. I don’t want the one with all of those sprinkles and shit on it.” You vigorously nod, taking out some cash. “You got it!” you giggle and hand them the cash. After getting back in line, Kiri orders one chocolate and two strawberry donuts and his and Bakugou’s drinks. 

You thank the cashier when she hands you each pastry individually wrapped in a paper bag, nice, warm, and toasty from the oven. You turn to the pros and hand them the treats. “Here you guys go,” you sweetly say. Bakugou grumbles as he takes his while Kiri gives you a big gigawatt grin. “Thanks, cutie,” he chuckles. You expect them to start eating them, but you’re shocked when Bakugou hands one of the strawberry ones to you. 

You freeze, confused. “But…this is for your date,” you say, completely clueless. “Aren’t you gonna give it to them?” Bakugou pinches the bridge of his nose like a dad with a dumbass child. “Oh, my God,” he groans. Kiri thinks it’s endearingly hilarious, holding his stomach as he laughs. “You are our date, silly girl!” he giggles. “Well, mine, technically. Your friend set us up to have dates with you at different times today, but we both just came together since we’re dating. I hope that’s cool.” 

You gape at them, wondering if they’re serious. Two of the hottest pros on a date with you? At the same time?! You just about squeal with excitement. “Sure!” you giggle, your heart leaping for joy. “The more, the better! Let’s go sit down so we can get to know each other more.” 

The two are happy to oblige. Kiri picks out a table in the back that is more secluded and near the window for the sights. Before you sit, you turn to Katsuki with an apologetic pout. “I’m sorry again about the spill, Bakugou.” 

The blonde cuts his eyes at you and you can't tell what he’s thinking due to how permanent his scowl is. But that changes when he pulls your chair out for you. “Katsuki,” he replies. “And stop mentionin’ it. Besides, I know some other way you can make up for it later…maybe with your number.” He gives you a lopsided smirk that makes you tingle between your thighs. 

“Chill,” Kiri cuts in, rolling his eyes. “Sorry about him. We don’t usually flirt too hard on the first date…but you’re just too cute to resist.” He boldly looks you up and down, tugging lightly on his bottom lip. You wonder what else he can do with his mouth as the cafe’s atmosphere becomes more tense between the three of you. “Well, I could say the same about you two,” you purr, a shy giggle leaving your lips. 

That’s what the duo want to hear. Bakugou’s smirk widens, a twinkle in his vermillion eyes. “Glad the feelin’ is mutual, mama,” he whispers. “So you sittin’ or what? My fuckin’ coffee’s gettin’ cold.” You do so and you never want the date to end…unless it’s to spend more time with them in private.

NICHOLAS "NICO" BROWN (GANGSTA!)

You stand outside of a jazz club one chilly night, watching the passersby and wondering which one may be your blind date. 

Worick told you all about his friend, Nico, but you’ve never met him before. You only know that the two work together and have known each other since childhood. You’ve only known Worick for two years after he helped you out of a messy financial situation with your asshole ex-boyfriend who, according to Worick, nearly shat himself when Worick threatened to bring Nico in to handle things.

Apparently, Nico is well-known throughout the town for being an extremely threatening and intimidating figure. 

Why in the fuck would Worick want to set you up with someone like that? “He’s a cool dude, really!” he assured you over coffee. “Just…quiet. And it has nothing to do with the fact that he’s deaf. He’s just a quiet guy; a little awkward; introverted…” 

‘Not to mention threatening and intimidating,’ you thought to yourself. “And you thought I was just perfect for this guy?” you scoffed. “What will we even talk about? How can I talk to him if he’s so quiet?” 

“If you ask him something, he’ll answer you,” the handsome blonde replied. “And don’t worry too much about signing. He can read lips, but just make sure you slow down with your words.” Though Worick knows you know sign language due to your father being deaf since you were an infant. He can tell you’re still hesitant to say yes and folds his hands into a prayer.

“C’mon, sweetie,” he begs. “The guy has NEVER been on a Valentine’s Day date before and his last girlfriend was a fucking bitch who dumped him because he was deaf. All she wanted was his massive dick…sorry.”

He apologized when he saw your reaction. You didn’t need to know that his childhood friend has a big dick! ….Though you are curious to know just how big. “He needs someone kind, considerate, and sweet. You fit the bill! Just give him a chance, please?” 

Before you agreed, Worick told you all about Nico’s ex, happy to do so when you asked. Apparently, she was the daughter of a rich family that he and Worick were in charge of guarding for a couple of months. She and Nico grew closer, had a sexual relationship, and Nico caught feelings while she didn’t, claiming it was because she didn’t want to date someone deaf due to it being “too much work”. You felt bad for Nico, especially when hearing how much it hurt him. 

“You’re lucky I love you,” you sighed at Worick’s pleading stare. He clapped his big, calloused hands and pressed a kiss to your cheek. “Love you too, sweetie,” he chuckled. “I’ll fill you in on the details later this week.” 

He instructed you to meet Nico at an underground jazz club that Nico particularly likes for its seclusion and because no one bothers him too much in there. You dressed in a simple cocktail dress, flats and a cardigan to keep warm in the chill. Combined with your styled hair and soft makeup, you think you look pretty. You hope this “Nico" person thinks so too. When you look down the street among the other stores and taverns, you see a man walking up the road and you immediately know that your date has arrived. 

He is big. Huge! The man is nothing but bulky muscle hidden beneath his black tee, baggy jeans, and leather jacket standing at six-foot-something. He towers over you as he gets closer, so much so that you have to look up at him to actually look at his face. You can see why he's so intimidating.

Other than his height and build, Nico carries himself with a roughness and a confidence that is unshakeable and undeniable. It’s scary…yet also thrilling. Kinda sexy too. 

Under the soft glow of the street lamps, you get a good look at his features: he has a soft tan to his skin, thick, soft-looking lips, and eyes a deep, dark chocolate that you can get lost in forever. Silver dog tags hang from his thick neck that has your blood going hot and slight scars and bruises that you can see on his knuckles. You wonder, briefly, how he got them. He’s very, very handsome.

Realizing he’s waiting for you to make the first move, you clear your throat. “Uh….hi!” you greet, giving him a wave. He nods, barely cracking a smile. “You’re Nico?” you sign with your hands and verbally ask. “I’m Y/N, Worick’s friend.” 

Nico shakes your hand and you notice how big, warm, and calloused his palm is. It makes your pussy tingle embarrassingly so. “The teacher, right?” he signs with those thick fingers. “He told me you teach little kids.” You nod, smiling proudly at your occupation. “Yes, pre-K,” you giggle. “They’re adorable, but a handful.” 

There is an awkwardness between you, mostly because Nico is such a silent guy. He also keeps that stoic scowl on his face, so you don’t really know what he’s thinking. “So what do you do?” you curiously ask. “Worick never filled me in on that. He just said you do ‘business’ together as Handymen.” At this, Nico cracks a crooked smirk. “Something like that,” he signs. That intrigues you a bit. 

“Do you wanna go inside?” you ask, nodding at the door. “We’ll freeze before we get a chance to get to know each other more.” You give a small laugh to which he only nods, making you feel like a fish out of water. He opens the door for you, surprising you, and nods you into the warm club.

“Thank you,” you whisper, catching his intoxicating scent of cologne and lavender soap as you walk in. A bit of cigarette smoke clings to his clothes too, but it doesn't bother you much. The club is small yet cozy and dimly lit for a more intimate feel. Many people are at the bar or on the dance floor near the small stage where a band plays, the sounds of piano and cello mingling in the air. 

After getting your drinks from the bar (you get a cocktail while Nico picks a beer), you pick a table near the window and Nico pulls out a chair for you. You flush bashfully at his actions, not taking him for such a sweet guy. “Such a gentleman,” you laugh as he pushes you in and takes a seat across from you. “Worick didn’t tell me that. He said you’re very quiet though.” He shrugs his broad shoulders in his jacket. “Just don’t got much to say,” he signs. 

You nod as you shed your coat, revealing your naked shoulders and dress to him. You try not to be intimidated by his unwavering gaze. “That’s okay,” you sign and say. “We can talk about whatever you want.” The corners of his mouth quirk upward. “You sign really well,” he praises you. You smile proudly and bashfully, glad to have impressed him. “My dad is deaf and taught me how to sign since I was young.” 

His smirk turns more dry and almost forced as he signs to you: “So me being deaf doesn’t turn you off?” he jokes.

You immediately remember his ex and feel your stomach fall. “Not at all,” you sweetly answer. “Though I don’t like beer drinkers.” You wrinkle your nose at Nico’s drink. He raises an eyebrow, confused at your distaste. “It makes kisses taste like beer.” You lean forward a bit, giving him a secretive, flirtatious smile. “I like my kisses sweet.” 

Your eyes tick down to his lips and he notices. But he barely reacts. If anything, he looks disinterested and your heart sinks. “Was that too much?” you ask worriedly. Did you go too far? Are you misreading this? 

Before you can babble an apology, he stops you. “You asked what I do for work with Worick,” he signs. You nod, your heart thumping madly in your chest. He takes a deep breath before signing again. “We do almost everything, but I do dirty work,” he tells you. “I used to be a mercenary, but…I’ve still got human blood on my hands.” He pauses, watching for your reaction. That explains the marks on his fists. ”Does that bother you?” he asks, apprehension in his brown eyes. Before you can respond, someone knocks into the table, nearly toppling it over. 

You squeak, grabbing your drink before it can topple over while Nico straightens the table. “Oh, my God, are you alright?” you gasp, immediately helping the guy onto his feet. He turns to you, all crooked teeth and bloodshot eyes. “Now I am,” he drunkenly chortles at the sight of you. “Damn, darlin’, you’ve got a body on you! You wanna dance?” You immediately step back, warning bells going off in your head. “U-Uh, no, sorry. I’m here with–“ 

The man turns to Nico who has been staring daggers at the drunk the whole time. “Him?” he cackles. “That fuckin’ cockhead? You can get someone better than that, darlin’. Someone who can take care of this bo–“ 

The drunk cuts himself off with a whine of pain as Nico grips his hand so hard that he cracks the drunk’s knuckle bones. Unbeknownst to you, the drunk tried to touch your behind and Nico wasn’t having that. Doesn’t he know who he’s fucking with? You gape at your date as he steps between you and the drunk, a hulking mountain, and gets deep in the drunk’s grill.

And then he opens his mouth: “Back up,” he warns, his voice deeper and raspier than you pictured it though loud due to his hearing. “Unless you want your head in this table, I suggest you leave her alone. She’s with me.” 

He then releases the drunk who scampers away, clutching his hand to his chest. Nico composes himself and turns to you, an apologetic look in his eyes. “Sorry,” he signs. You don’t say anything and he is so sure that he fucked this up. Now you see who he is. Now you see that he’s just a Twilight. A mercenary. A no good– 

“Nico?” you softly ask. His hurtful thoughts take the back burner when you step to him, looking up at him with those precious, brown eyes. “Do you want to dance?” you ask, signing the words to him. 

He blinks at you, so sure that you're scared of him. When in reality, you're just trying to push the nasty thoughts of him kissing you silly and fucking you up against the table with that big, sexy body and massive dick out of your mind.

Him defending you but still being a complete, gentle giant to you is getting you going completely, but it’s still the first date. You want him to open up and maybe a slow dance can do that for you. “Not much of a dancer,” he signs, looking sheepish. 

You smile and offer your hands to which he takes. “I’ll show you how,” you giggle, pulling him along onto the dance floor filled with slow-dancing pairs. A soft, slow tune with a seductive saxophone and piano plays as you stand eye to eye. You place one hand on his shoulder as you interact your fingers with his with the other. Slowly, you begin to sway to the music, beginning to melt within the music and each other. 

And when lean your head onto his shoulder, finally feeling at peace, Nico comes to feel that this is where you belong: with him, in his arms. 

KEISUKE BAJI (TOKYO REVENGERS)

*Disclaimer: Baji is aged up (over the age of 18) in this drabble! 

“You’re the worst blind date I’ve ever had,” you very boldly and irritatingly tell the annoyingly sexy man sitting across from you. 

The attractive man with the long, wavy black hair, sharp eyes the color of milk chocolate, and a sharp, canine smile looks across from you at the table littered with remnants of your Italian dinner. Baji is his name apparently, a close friend of Mikey’s and one of his gang members. You never understood that gang shit, but they never give you problems.

If anything, Mikey’s gang ‘Toman’, protects you and makes sure you go about your days without any bother. “I’m guessin’ you’ve been on many blind dates before me?” Baji suggests as he chews on his pasta. “Huh. That’s a shocker.” 

You sharply squint at him, catching onto that shade. “Why is that so shocking?” you ask, digging your nails into the table with how irked you are. You can’t believe Mikey set you up with him. It’s been 25 minutes into the date and so far, each conversation was an argument and shot after shot.

Your personalities clash horribly, not to mention every woman in the place has their eyes on him. And he knows it! Not to mention that he’s an extremely messy eater (which led your mind to other places), he is way too into himself, and he has no idea how to act in a classy setting like an Italian restaurant. 

He’s a wild. He’s argumentative and hot-headed. He’s a rugged, tough-as-nails, roughneck dude…and he’s turning you on.  

Baji leans back against his chair, widening his legs in a way that makes you want to scream. Why the fuck does he have to be so goddamn fine but such an asshole? Is God punishing you? “Well, bein’ the fact that you’re the very definition of ‘a stick in the mud’,” he explains, “and a tighter than a drum, I can hardly believe how any guy sat across from you at a table. At least you’re pretty.” He goes back to eating his pasta like he didn’t just insult you. 

“Excuse me?” you hiss, feeling your blood boil. Thank God for your dress or else, you’re sure you’d boil over from the anger you feel. “And I can’t imagine how any self-respecting woman can sit with a lowlife, cocky, smart ass narc like you. And unlike me, your looks do nothing to take away any of that.” Baji’s thick, black eyebrows raise at the shot you took. “And you’re snarky,” he chuckles. “Lucky for you, I’ve got a thing for snarky girls.” 

He uses his sinful tongue to lick a bit of sauce from his bottom lip. You catch a glint of metal on his tongue as he does and you realize that he has a tongue piercing. ‘Fuck,’ you think, clenching your thighs beneath the table and gripping the hem of your dress. You lean your hand against the bridge of your nose, feeling a headache coming on. “I can’t believe I said yes to this shit,” you sigh into your hand. “Fuck the $50. I’m gonna have to tell Mikey that–“ 

“Mikey?” Baji cut in, pausing from eating. “Mikey put you up to this?” His brown eyes widen in shock and you feel a spark of joy at shutting him up. “Yes,” you proudly say, venom in your tone, “he did. And you know why? It’s because no other girl wants to date you. You’re unromantic, you’re a slob, you’re always looking for an argument, and you seem to push every single guy’s buttons in here.” 

He stares at you for a moment, open-mouthed and wide-eyed, and then he begins to laugh so loud that the others in the restaurant look at him. You hide behind your hand, embarrassed. “Oh, shit!” he cackles. “I swear, that motherfucker is desperate to find me somebody.” You nod, pushing your dinner to the side. “Agreed. Why he ever thought I would be a perfect match for you is beyond me.” 

Baji looks at you now, an unreadable expression on his face as his smile fades. “Maybe it’s because you’re such a fuckin’ brat,” he replies though his tone is different. You stare at him in disbelief, scowling. Did he really just say that? Deadass? 

Baji smirks at your reaction. “You heard me: B-R-A-T. You’re a brat and fortunately for you, baby girl, I’m just the guy to handle a chick like you.” He leans in toward you, folding his ringed knuckles beneath his chin. “Someone who doesn’t shut the fuck up or know her place.” 

“Know her place?!” you snap, earning the attention of the restaurant. He barely reacts, though his smile grows and a strange twinkle appear in his eyes. “You know what? Fuck this and fuck you. Why you even have an ex-girlfriend is beyond me if this is how you talk to them.” You stand up in your pretty, body-hugging dress and grab your coat. “I’m leaving,” you huff, snatching the coat on. “Have a good Valentine’s Day, dickhead.” 

Without another word or waiting for him to respond or even stop you, you leave the restaurant and step out into the cold February night. You barely get down the street before you hear your name being called. You turn, seeing Baji jogging towards you, those black locks flowing in the wind. “Y/N!” he calls in his deep ass voice. “Hold up, wait!” You don’t know why you stop, but you do, putting a hand on your hip. You glare at him and pout those plump lips when he finally stops in front of you. “You left your dessert.” 

He presents a small brown box to you and opens it to reveal a small chocolate fudge cake with chocolate mousse on the inside and Godiva flakes coating the top. “I didn’t order any dessert,” you say in a tight voice. He smirks down at you, standing several heads taller than you. “I know; that’s why I ordered ya one. C’mon, you don’t like chocolate cake?” You look back down at the cake and close it before he hands it to you. “What, is this an apology?” you snort. “Sorry, man, but you’re gonna have to try much harder than–“ 

“You’re wonderin’ why I have an ex, right?” he interrupts you. You pause, confused, but he just smiles mischievously at you. “I have an ex, and many of them, because I’m an asshole, unfortunately. Force of habit.” He shrugs, but actually looks guilty for it. “But I’ve had many girlfriends because I know how to tame them.” 

His smile is flirtier now, creating more of that sexual tension that you felt at dinner. You still stare at him, speechless, and he figures that you’re clueless about what he means. “I put it down,” he explains. "Give good dick. Knock their boots. Am I makin’ any sense here?”

You roll your eyes, ignoring the thoughts running in your head of just how good he is in the bedroom. “I know what you mean,” you snap. “So why the fuck are you tellin’ me this?” 

Baji smiles at you, his canines glowing at you as if they are illuminated by a light within them. They thrill you and bring a ferocious and needy part out of you that you didn’t know was even there. He takes a step toward you, getting closer, until you can reach up and kiss him if you want to.

“Because I know you’re attracted to me,” he murmurs matter-of-factly. “What, you think I can’t see it? The way you squeezed your thighs tight together at the table. The way you kept starin’ dead at my hands. The way you’d get so lost in thought as if daydreaming about somethin’ else way more exciting.” 

You flush embarrassingly, more at your behavior than the fact that Baji noticed it. You can’t help how attracted you are to him. But Baji doesn’t want you to be embarrassed or ashamed. He wants you to want him the same he wants you.

“Lucky for you, mama,” he purrs, the pet name making your pussy jump, especially with his voice, "I’m just as whipped for you, especially in that dress.” His fingers lightly glide down your arm, sending shivers down your spine. “I’m sorry about tonight, but I can show how sorry I am in other ways if you want me to.” 

You can tell he genuinely means it and isn’t just trying to get in your pants, but even so, you still scowl up at him, your jaw set and eyes narrow. “And why do you think I’ll say yes?” you question. He just chuckles, still flashing you that sharp, sexy smile. “Because you know I’m the only one who can handle that bratty ass of yours.” 

He then turns and waves a hand. You don’t know what for until a taxi suddenly glides over to the curb and stops. Baji walks to the backdoor and opens it before looking back at you expectantly, his eyes molten with lust.

“Now get in the fuckin’ car, Y/N.” You know you shouldn’t get in the car and go anywhere with him, but you can’t deny how much he makes your pussy throb. So against your better judgment, you crawl into the backseat of the cab and tell the driver your address. 

Hours later after being stripped out of your dress, shown extensive foreplay, and having your pussy eaten like Baji hasn’t had anything to eat in decades, you find yourself being fucked against the wall with your arms and legs wrapped tight around the long-haired, tattooed man who holds you against him as he pummels his thick, hard cock into your tight, wet pussy again and again. The bedroom is filled with the sound of your mixed moans and skin slapping against skin as he pistons his hips into you, making you see stars. 

It doesn’t take long for your pussy to start quivering around his cock, squelching and dripping the more he fucks it. You’ve never been fucked like this in your life and you’re able to hold back anymore. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, Baji!” you practically scream. “Can’t…can’t take it! I’m gonna cum!” 

Baji shakes his head, gripping your hair with one hand while he hikes you up onto his waist with the other, showing you how lightweight you are to him. “Uh-uh, bratty girl,” he huffs. “Not yet, mama. I need to feel more of this pretty pussy flutterin’ around me.”

He thrusts harder, faster, drawing whines and sobs out of you. You begin to claw at his back where a large tattoo dedicated to Toman is inked into his back muscles. “You cum when I say, understand?” he growls into your ear. 

You weakly nod, willing to do anything he says if that means you can cum. “Now shut the fuck up, and take this dick.” You do so, stopping your protests as he fucks you stupid until you cream all over his cock while he fills you up to the brim…but of course, you only do it when he says so. You find that you love doing what he tells you to. 

When everything is said and done, you both crumble to your bedroom floor and Baji pecks your cheek. “Best blind date ever, right?” he chuckles.

BENIMARU SHINON (FIRE FORCE)

*Note: Reader is Goth! 

“God, kill me,” you sigh, standing in front of the theater doors. “Why did I agree to do this? He could be a serial killer or something!” 

You contemplate leaving, but you already promised your best friend that you’d go through with this stupid blind date on this stupid ass holiday. “Please just try and go along with it for tonight, Y/N!” she practically begged. “I promise he’s a nice guy! And I already told him you agreed! Just give it a chance and I promise you that I’ll never bother you about dating again.” 

You groaned, sitting across from her at a bar. “Fuck,” you sighed. “Fine. Can I least pick the movie?” Your friend eagerly nodded, so you purposely picked a romance/horror movie marathon showing that the theatre does every year for Valentine’s Day. The kind with blood n guts, gothic vampires, and slashers. Surprisingly, the guy still agreed to come much to your dismay and you had no choice but to come out. 

You know that your friend did this as a way to get you to start dating. You swear she thinks that one of these days that you’ll hang yourself from the shower rod with how lonely you are…and this has zero to do with you being goth. Though you love the color black, but you’re not depressed. You love dark makeup and rock music, but that’s what you love. You’ve always adored gothic fashion and the aesthetic, so that’s what you live. 

However, some people think it’s weird. Though Tokyo is full of eccentric and different type of fashion, goth isn’t particularly “popular” in your Black family or side of the city. And it certainly isn’t popular with the guys. You don’t care. You love yourself and you’re not about to change for anyone. So you dress in your finest black attire with a mini leather skirt, thigh-high stockings, and boots that make you feel powerful and sexy. Your makeup is dark, your mascara is sharp, your nails are as long and sharp as claws, and chains drip from your leather jacket. 

You wonder what your date will be like. Apparently, he’s a well-regarded and respected officer in the Special Fire Force, among the strongest there is. But you don’t recognize him when he comes up the road from his side of the city. He is tall and has a lean build that is hidden behind a black sweater and baggy jeans. His locks of black hair hang in his face, but not enough to hide his different set of eyes: his right pupil is a red circle with one black dot in the middle while his iris is black; his left is red with a white X in the middle, reminding you of a game of tic, tac, toe. 

“Hey,” he greets easily. “You waitin’ for someone?” You scowl at him, crossing your ams over you chest. “Why are you asking?” you ask sharply. The stranger raises his big hands in defense, taking a step back. “I’m not trying you, I promise. I’m just wondering if you’re this Y/N that’s supposed to be waiting here for me.” 

You squint at him, cocking your head to the side to see him at a different angle. “Benimaru?” you question. “Huh. You don’t look how I thought at all.” He is handsome but not enough to knock you off your game. He quirks a small smirk and you have a feeling that this dude don’t smile often. “I hope that’s a good thing,” he wryly chuckles. “For the record, you’re not bad on the eyes either…if that’s what you meant.” 

You don’t acknowledge his compliment or react even though your stomach flips. You’re not used to anyone complimenting you on the account of your black lipstick and mascara. “So should we go in or stay out here to freeze to death?” you sarcastically ask. You huff and turn on your heel before Benimaru can even answer or follow you. 

He easily beats you to the door on his long legs and opens it for you, towering over you as he does. “Is sarcasm just natural for you?” he asks, dry humor in his voice as you step into the theater. You feel a pang of guilt at your behavior. It’s not his fault your friend orchestrated this. 

“Sorry,” you apologize. “I’ll admit, I’m not too hype about being here. Dating isn’t really my thing, but my friend insisted I come on this stupid blind date…no offense.” Benimaru barely blinks at you walk to the ticket counter. “None taken. My friend, Konro, swore I needed a Valentine’s Day date when the whole holiday isn’t even a holiday. It’s pure BS.” 

“Ugh, agreed,” you scoff, rolling your pretty, brown eyes ringed in mascara “It’s just a way for companies to continue to capitalize off of hopeless romantics and couples. Not to mention all of that pink.” 

Benimaru nearly misses that, too busy thinking about how pretty your eyes are. “I’m takin’ you don’t like pink?” he asks, raising an eyebrow at you. “Not that your clothes are a dead giveaway or anything.” His interestingly alluring eyes tick up and down your outfit, making you feel hot under all of the leather. “I just like black,” you laugh. “But don’t get me wrong; I wear other colors sometimes, but only on a minuscule level.” 

“Your friend said you were a gothic chick,” he chuckles, giving you a mischievous smirk. You send it right back as you take out the two tickets your friend sent you for the movie. “As gothic as they come,” you retort. Benimaru just hums in response, particularly liking you in that mini skirt and the way it swishes around your thighs. 

After buying the tickets, you two wander into the small waiting area where a bar, a cafe, and an arcade occupy the space. “So the movie starts in about fifteen minutes. Should we head in now?” Benimaru doesn’t answer at first, too busy staring at the arcade games. “Nah,” he replies, nodding at the flashing, noisy games. “We can kill some time in here.” He begins to walk over, expecting you to follow. “Your friend also said you’re shit at racing games,” he says with a smirk shot your way. 

“Not true!” you scoff, crossing your arms. He shrugs pausing in the threshold of the arcade to wait for you. You finally give in, taking off your jacket to reveal your black crop top. “Fine, but only if we got time for the shooting games too. I wanna kill some zombies.” Benimaru nods, secretly laughing to himself as you follow him into the arcade. 

You spend way more than fifteen minutes in that bitch, playing all the games you can. Benimaru is good at almost everything, playing each game with skill and precision. He lets you win most of the time, just liking to see you smile and laugh in pride when you win a racing game or beat him at ping pong. During the zombie game, you get overrun by the undead while holding your plastic machine gun and you feel him lightly touch your elbow to point the gun straight. His touch sends shivers all over you. You win the first half until you run out of time and Benimaru smirks at you. “I totally helped you with that,” he sniggers. 

You also play basketball, shooting them repeatedly through hoops. He always gets the farthest hoop and the highest points, winning every round. “You only won ‘cause you’re taller,” you huff, bumping your hip with his as you walk by. It gives him the perfect opportunity to watch your ass sway in that damn skirt, making him hard as a rock for you. 

As walk to get something to drink, you stop at one game in particular: the crane game. It holds dozens of little plushies that you’re obsessed with, including the little black plague doctor with its big eyes and fluffy beak. Benimaru smirks at you staring at the game, walking up beside you. “I saw you looking at this thing the whole time,” he says. "You couldn't have been any less discreet.” 

“Shut up,” you grumble, still staring at the plushie. He notices and pulls out his last arcade coin. “What, you want it?” You quickly shake your head, turning to leave. “We’re gonna miss the movie anyways, so–“ 

“Fuck it,” he carelessly interrupts, shocking you. “You obviously want that penguin, so I’ll get it for you.” 

You roll your eyes, sighing. “It’s not even a penguin; it’s a plague doctor Squishable. It ain’t a big deal for me to have it, Benimaru.” But your date just glares at you as he bends down to put the coin in the slot. “And it ain’t a big deal for me to get it for you,” he argues. “If we miss the movie, we’ll just go for food.” 

You are floored by his stubbornness and refusal to give up until he’s made you happy. How can that be? You only just met and yet here he is, using his last coin to try to get you a stupid plushie! You watch with bated breath as he plays the game, moving the crane slowly as he fixes his eyes on the plushie. Once he’s moved the crane right over the plushie, he hits a button, causing the crane to sink down into the sea of stuffed animals. The crane’s hooks latch onto the peak of the plushie and, slowly, he moves it over to the opening in the corner to release it.

The crane plays music and lights up in victory as the plushie rolls down the chute into Benimaru’s hand. He turns to you, an unreadable look on his face. “Here,” he says passively. “I figured goth girls didn’t like cute shit like this…but he is kinda creepy.” 

You take the plushie, just staring at it for a moment. All of the sudden, you feel weird. You feel tingly and butterflies flutter around in your stomach. That never happens, but it’s happening for this guy! “Thanks,” you softly, and very shyly, say. Benimaru shrugs like it isn’t anything to him, but it is to you. “Y’know, the movie marathon is gonna be showing another night too…” You trail off, looking down at your shoes to avoid seeing his eyes. 

“So you want another night with me?” he asks. Quickly, you turn on your heel and stomp out of the arcade, leaving him utterly confused. “What?” he calls after you, sounding genuinely baffled. “It was just a question!” 

A second night with him does happen two weeks later and you do see the midnight marathon, but neither of you pay any attention to the first move that plays. You’re too busy bouncing on your date’s thick, veiny cock in the darkness of the theater to watch the film, biting back your moans despite the seats being empty. Benimaru softly grunts and moans into your ear as your walls flex around him, his eyes transfixed on the way your ass jiggles as he lifts up your skirt. 

“Fuck, Beni!” you moan. “Y-You’re s-so fuckin’ big!” You grip his thighs with your long nails as his dick stretches you out in the best way, a delicious ache coming in your calves with the effort it takes to bounce on him. Benimaru stands up and bends you over the seat in front of you, beginning to fuck you from behind. He is fast and nails that single spot every time that makes you have to cover your mouth because you’re so loud. 

“Shh, shh, baby,” he coos into your ear as he continues to pound into you from behind. “You don’t want security comin’ to find us, do you? Or maybe you do, you little slut, fuckin’ your date in the movie theatre.” He takes a fistful of your hair and pulls, much to your enjoyment of being slutted out in the dark. Anyone could walk in and see you fucking right now. It’s so naughty. So sexy. 

The thrill of it must be getting to Benimaru too because he speeds up his thrusts, his balls slapping against your clit as his hand smacks against your ass, gripping it tight. “Shit, baby, you’re gonna make cum!” he groans, tossing his head back at the feeling of your tight walls squeezing around him. “Cum with me! Make that pretty fuckin’ pussy cum around my cock!” 

You quickly begin to rub you swollen clit in time with his thrusts and soon enough, you’re cumming all over his cock. “Fuck!” you scream into your hand as your orgasm tears through you. Benimaru cums too, filling you up with a long groan that he bites back as best as he can among the movie playing. He lets you come down from cloud nine before pulling out, letting his cum leak down your thighs. He turns you around, pumping his cock soaked in your juices. “Not yet,” he growls. “Put it back in your mouth and taste yourself.” 

You get on your knees, panties at your ankles and leather skirt hiked up. Benimaru wastes no time thrusting into your mouth, using it as his very own fucktoy, as he watches your brown eyes ringed in mascara stare up at him eagerly. When he pulls away to cum again, your black lipstick stains his cock, marking him as yours.

“Fuck!” he gasps as he cums all over your pretty face, ruining your eye makeup. It is now but black smears down your cheeks as his nut drips all over your face and cheeks. 

“Poor baby,” he chuckles. “Your mascara’s runnin’. I bet you worked so hard on it.” He takes a napkin from your movie snacks and dabs away the cum. “So cute,” he sighs, marveling at how utterly adorable you look. You giggle, feeling deliriously good and cute, just as he says. 

Yeah. A third date is most definitely in the future for you now. 

[spinningwebsandtales]

DMC5 Guys Accidentally Kissing Reader HCs

Requested by @danielle-marie​

(A/N:) Thank you for the request! I love doing these headcanons for my readers. They’re really fun to write and are some of my most popular! Buckle in for some fluff everyone cause this is gonna be fun! Until next time happy reading! ~Countess

Dante X FemReader

Dante always teases you, acting like he’s going to kiss you.

You push him away thinking he’s mostly just joking, which he’s actually just trying to hide his actual feelings under his goofy persona.

So you actually never know what he is thinking or feeling cause he always hides everything under corny jokes or a grin.

Dante hides the fact well that the feelings he has for you runs deeper than even he can imagine.

Then the day came that day that he could no longer hide his feelings.

It had been a normal day when the job came in from Morrison. Dante wanted you to stay but you refused.

Dante knew it was going to be a difficult mission but you stayed in and handled it as you normally do.

His adrenaline was pumping at the end of the fight and he wasn’t thinking straight when he wrapped around your waist.

You gasped at the sudden touch before you were tugged into his side and Dante’s lips were on yours.

You stiffened looking at him with wide eyes before Dante regained his bearings.

He released you quickly as you stumbled backwards.

He sheepishly looked down, not knowing how to explain that it had been an accident when you said his name.

He looked up, surprised to see you so close.

“Is that how you feel?”

“Yeah.”

You kissed him gently back.

Vergil X FemReader

Vergil always seems to keep you at arms length so you honestly can’t tell if he likes you or just tolerates you.

Every time you get a little too close he puts distance between you both.

It hurts your feelings but you keep the hurt hidden as it would just push him away more.

He throws himself headfirst into whatever he’s doing, especially when it comes to battle.

Demons have no chance when Vergil is before them with Yamato.

You are rarely able to help when it comes to battles.

One day that changed when the hoard you and him came across was proving too much for even Vergil.

He’s too busy trying to keep himself alive that he has no time to check on you.

When he dispatches the last one he turns to find you, only to see you gone.

Despite his cool attitude towards you he cares deeply. So deeply it scares him.

He just doesn’t know how to express himself very well and it comes off as distant and harsh.

But when he finds you laying on the ground, surrounded by demon corpses and your body in a pool of blood. His blood freezes.

He rushes to your side knowing that he just lost one of the people he truly cares about.

Overwhelmed by his emotions and not used to feeling such things he kisses you as he’s scared he’s lost you.

You stir causing Vergil to stiffen and release you.

“Did you just kiss me?”

“I thought you were dead. It was an accident I didn’t know what to do.”

“Well at least that confirms that you don’t hate me.”

I could never hate you.”

Nero X FemReader

Nero and you have a very special relationship as you both like each other but have a hard time expressing how you both feel.

You both think so much alike you butt heads quite often which leads to arguments.

They aren’t arguments where you come to blows but just over stupid things.

Like if Nero leaves the toilet seat up or you left the milk out on the counter.

You both feel stupid afterwards and wind up making up a little later and becoming close once again.

But Nero has been noticing that his feelings for you are changing more and more each day.

He can’t imagine his life without you and it scares him that one of these arguments would have you storming out of his door and life forever.

Today was one of those times he was the most fearful as you were shouting at him with no end in sight.

He couldn’t remember the reason the argument started but here you were shouting and pointing your finger in his face.

He steps back trying to apologize but he can’t even get one word in as you are on a roll.

At a loss on what to do Nero sudden grabs you, pulling you in, and kissing you quickly.

Cutting off your argument you stand there speechless.

“Did you just kiss me?”

“Yeah. I didn’t know what to do and it just happened.”

“What were we arguing about?”

“I don’t remember.”

V X FemReader

V is a quiet man and more often than not he keeps his feelings to himself.

So you really don’t know what he’s thinking majority of the time and he’s good at keeping things hidden.

If his attention isn’t on you, it’s on his ever present book of poems.

You were beginning to think that he loved his book more than you.

It made you huffy if he didn’t pay attention to you in a certain amount of time but you didn’t voice your annoyance.

The reason V would retreat into his book is that he didn’t know how to react to the feelings that swirled inside when you were near.

One night you were making tea for the both of you, enjoying a cozy evening inside.

The radio playing softly in the background while V read from the book out loud.

His voice filling the house with deep rich tones that flowed from his tongue.

You found yourself enraptured as you placed the tea cup on the table at his side.

You leaned closer and closer, hanging onto every sentence until you were as close as possible. 

V paused midsentence to grab his teacup but when he turned, your close proximity was a surprise and he found his lips upon yours.

You stiffened and he quickly moved away, not wanting to insult you or think that was his intentions the whole time.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you had gotten so close to me.”

“That’s okay I should have just left your tea and went to sit down. I couldn’t help it as I really liked that one.”

“Would you like me to read it again?”

“Yes please.”

He patted the cushion by his side and you took the offer.

When you sat back down your teacup cupped in trembling hands.

V leaned over kissing your cheek before going back to reading to you.

[morganski-19]

Chills Right to the Marrow Part 33

ao3 link| part 1 . . . part 30, part 31, part 32

“No,” Wayne says. Nothing more to follow. Just no.

“I know it’s a big offer,” Steve continues to explain. “But Dustin brought it up and I wouldn’t have accepted it if it wasn’t a good idea.”

The offer is too much. Too big. Too unnecessary. Wayne can figure all of this out on his own. He doesn’t need someone’s charity. Especially a rich boy’s charity.

“And I heard you out. But now I’m saying no.” He walks down the hall, away from the waiting room. He hears footsteps following him but can’t seem to care.

“Did you actually?” Steve insists. Coming up next to him. “Because I would back off if I thought you actually heard me out.”

Wayne doesn’t want to deal with this right now. He doesn’t even want to think of the offer. It’s a ridiculous thing to even think of in the first place. There is never a reality where Wayne would accept this, so why would he hear Steve out. Whether it was Dustin’s plan or not. It’s not his job to pander to what other people want for him.

It was the end of this discussion, and Steve needed to know that.

Wayne stays silent for the rest of the walk to Eddie’s room. Stopping outside of the door with a thick sigh.

“Kid, I appreciate the offer, I really do. But my answer is no, and you need to respect that.”

When he opens the door, Eddie’s sitting up on the bed. Looking confused and a bit intrigued. It’s a cruel thought, but Wayne misses when he was in the coma and anything he said, Eddie didn’t hear. Or at least, couldn’t react to.

“What offer?” he asks, putting down the puzzle he was doing.

“One that doesn’t matter, because it’s not happening.” Wayne sits down, giving Steve a look that he hopes makes him drop it.

Eddie would probably be on Wayne’s side. He hopes. But there’s something between him and the Harrington boy that he doesn’t understand. Something that he doesn’t even think they understand quite yet.

All he knows is that Steve is here a lot more than he used to be. Ever since that blow up, him and Eddie have been closer. There are days when Wayne shows up and it’s just Steve. Sitting close to Eddie and they’re just talking. Whispering between each other like there are other people in the room. There aren’t, but apparently that doesn’t matter.

It scares Wayne, just a little bit. He knows Eddie is gay. He told Wayne himself a few years ago. Scared out of his mind and a bag already packing in his room. He was ready to be kicked out and skip town. When Wayne would never. Not about this, or anything really.

Eddie was his kid, through and through. There was nothing that would make that change. Even with the murder allegations. It wasn’t going to make Wayne think differently about him.

But now, he’s scared. Because Eddie looks at Steve with some kind of awe and reverie that he’s never seen. Wayne’s not stupid, he knows what that means.

Doesn’t mean he likes it, but he knows it.

He has no clue about Steve. What this would mean for him. Whether he’s accepting, or maybe gay too. There’s nothing there for him to go with. All he knows about that is from stories, and none of them are good.

But when he looks at Eddie with the same look in his eye. Giving back as much as Eddie gives. Wayne’s starting to think that there is more there. There shouldn’t be, but there is.

He’s refusing to think more about this. To wonder if that is going to go anywhere. Or that he’s right. Because it’s rude to speculate about people. Especially about this. So he doesn’t. And does all at the same time because he feels the need to look out for Eddie. Eddie’s already been hurt so much, he doesn’t need heartbreak on top of it.

So living in the same house with this kid is not a good idea. Even if it means bringing Eddie back to the motel while he looks for a place to live. That is better than putting Eddie in a situation where he could get hurt again.

“Dustin had this idea,” Steve starts, not listening to Wayne’s silent protest, “that you and Wayne could come and stay with me for a few weeks. Just until you find a permanent place to live.”

Eddie continues to look confused. “Oh.”

“Yeah, and I had this whole long speech to try and convince him before Dustin could get to him, because he will no matter what happens. But Wayne didn’t want to hear it.”

Eddie leans back in the bed, trying to wrap his mind around it all. “And you would be ok with that?”

Steve shrugs. “I mean, yeah. It’s not the first time I let someone stay when they needed to. I let Mrs. Mayfield stay when she was looking for a new house. And this one time, Robin’s house has to get fumigated, so I let her, and her parents stay for the few days they were kicked out.”

Wayne takes a bit of surprise to this. It somehow makes the offer more genuine.

“Your parents don’t have a problem with this?” he asks. Realizing this is the first time that Wayne’s ever even mentioned them to Steve.

He hasn’t heard Steve mention them at all. Or anyone, for that matter.

Steve scratches at the back of his neck. “They kind of officially moved out of town after the mall fire. They’ve been back a few times, around holidays, but only for a day or two. If it weren’t for me still living there, they would have sold the house already.”

“Didn’t you get, like, badly injured in the mall fire,” Eddie asks. Looking sympathetic.

“Yeah,” Steve said with another shrug. “They stuck around for about a week after it happened to help me out a little. But after that, they were gone.”

Wayne’s not sure how he’s supposed to react to this. He would never have imagined moving away without his kid. Even if they were an adult, which Steve barely is. Wayne would still stay until it was the kid’s choice to leave. After that, there would still be a room with all of their old things. A space that they could stay in, if they ever needed to.

Apparently, that’s not the same for everyone.

He rethinks over the offer. Taking out his own stubbornness, as much as he could at least. It’s honestly really kind of Steve to offer up a space in his home for them. For anyone. With a house that big and only him in it, it had to be lonely. Maybe for a while, he and Eddie could make it a little less lonely.

“What was the rest of the speech?” Wayne asks. Causing both Steve and Eddie to look at him with shock. Wayne ignores it. “You said that you wouldn’t stop until I heard you out. I’m hearing you out.”

Steve smiles just a little bit before launching into all the benefits of moving in with him. There was a gym in garage that had everything Eddie needed to do his physical therapy from home. And a ground floor bedroom with a bathroom so he didn’t have to use the stairs. A pool that Steve could fill if Eddie wanted to do some water therapy. Plenty of space for Wayne and Eddie to live comfortably while Wayne searches for a place to live.

Plenty of empty bedrooms for storage if Wayne needed it. He doesn’t know why that stands out the most to him, but it does.

They were right. It would be nice to bring Eddie back to a place that had an actual bed. Somewhere with a lot of space for his recovery. Somewhere where Wayne could save up most of his paychecks for a house.

He might actually find a place a lot nicer than what he was looking at now.

Wayne accepts the offer before he can find a way to reject it. Hoping that it’s the right decision.

tag list (closed): @the-they-who-nerded, @insteviewetrust, @croatoan-like-its-hot, @jettestar,

@tinyplanet95, @steddie-as-they-go, @slv-333, @littlecelestialmoth, @thatonebadideapanda,

@fandomsanddeath, @marismorar, @wonderland-girl143-blog, @glass-bottle03, @gutterflower77,

@here4thetrama, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @jaytriesstuff, @cryptid-system, @manda-panda-monium,

@resident-gay-bitch, @anaibis, @xxsutherlandxx, @forevermineliv, @mugloversonly,

@gregre369, @n0-1-important, @different-tale-student, @spectrum-spectre, @tartarusknight,

@devondespresso, @swimmingbirdrunningrock, @cheertain, @anti-ozzie, @autumncrocusandladybug,

@greeniebean911, @cr0w-culture, @stillfullofshit, @connected-dots, @daisynotquake,

@morgannotlefay, @a-little-unsteddie, @dolphincliffs, @maskofmirrors, @me-and-my-sloth,

@papergrenade, @waelkyring, @sweetheartprincess28, @katouasobj, @astercomoasflores

[imsiriuslyreading]

Here’s the thing. Growing up, there was always a reason someone didn’t like you. They said it was because you were too loud, or not actually that funny. Or maybe there was just something about you. But actually, it was because your features were a little different to theirs. Or your skin was a slightly darker shade, or your surname didn’t sound the way theirs did, so they refused to spell it properly.

You thought that by the time you were a grown up, that would’ve disappeared. But it didnt, and people are still treating you differently to how they treat people doing the exact same thing you are. The difference is, they all look alike, or talk the same. Their surnames are easier to say and their features are similar. The difference is that now, they put on performative shows of allyship, but one on one, they haven’t changed. If anything, they’re worse.

Sometimes, being in a small communities or pockets of people, it feels like you’re not allowed to stretch out and take up space. Like, no matter what you do, there will always be someone waiting there to put you back in your place. To remind you that, actually, you may share the same friends or even the same interests and hobbies. But that you’ll never quite fit in the way that they do.

It’s easy to let that make you want to shrink yourself. To stop laughing so loudly, to stop sharing your thoughts. To not use your voice or show your face.

But those are the people you need to raise your voice to, actually. They’re the ones you need to smile and wave at, while they watch you wondering why their words and their vitriol aren’t breaking you. Because they’d break, if it was the other way around. They wouldn’t stand a chance.

You, though. You’re made of stronger stuff. You were born with resilience in your bones and confidence in your skin. You figured out who you are eons before they did, and you quickly learned that the fire that fuelled a thousand uprisings runs in your blood.

Let them call you too loud, too annoying, too much.

Because, actually, you’re the perfect amount. You could stand to be louder, if you feel brave enough.

Smile like you know the answer to all the questions they don’t even know to ask yet.

Because you do.

And the secret of it all is that they want to know what yours is. Why you hold your head so high, and talk like you know who you are. They can steal the recipe but the sauce won’t taste the same, i promise.

That’s why the sun hits you differently and the moon shines its brightest for you. That’s why the stars follow your every footstep.

Because you’re the magic of it all. You were here long before they were. And you’ll continue after they go.

This is your place.

And they can learn to spell your fucking surname.

[hugsandchaos]

FELLOW PHANS, OH MY GOSH

Okay! Listen! Listen, okay?!

So reveal gone wrong, something happens, Danny ends up in an alternate universe where he never existed and Dash was good friends with his family since Jazz tutors him, messed around with some of their stuff, and became a Halfa. They were there, along with Kwan, so they know. And they’re helping him. Sure, this would be a good chance to study ghosts, but Dash’s health, physical and mental, comes first.

Danny’s been a Halfa for over a year at this point, so he’s experienced. Dash isn’t. He’s only been a halfa for a little over a month. He’s the one fighting off ghosts, until Danny comes along and handles it. Dash thought it was awesome and tried talking to him, but he just left.

And in school, Danny meets Sam and Tucker all over again. He also avoids Dash, which is kind of a bummer because this Dash is actually a great guy! He wants to welcome the new kid, too. He looks pretty freaked out, probably new to the town and could use some encouragement, but he keeps flinching and avoiding him.

Danny understands that this is an alternative universe. Clockwork knows him. But everything is just so weird. Dash is good, a halfa, and his parents aren’t hunting him? They’re helping him?? It’s so baffling to him, and it really hurts a part of him. Why couldn’t his own parents have been like that?

Also, Lancer worries for Danny because he’s always nervous about something and was practically falling asleep standing up when he transferred. Despite there being forms signed, he also can’t find any trace of his parents and Danny tenses up when he mentions them. He also gets really anxious when the Fentons are around or mention anything to do with ghost hunting.

The kid had a panic attack when there was a lightning storm and Lancer could’ve sworn he saw litchenberg scars on the back of his neck! He refuses school counseling because he “doesn’t trust therapists anymore”!

As you can imagine, Lancer’s questions are putting Danny under a lot of stress. More than necessary, yes, but he has no idea what’ll happen if his teacher finds out he’s on his own? How will they react to him living in an abandoned observatory just outside of town? Is he going to be forced somewhere else?

Bonus bits!

Dash has a fire core, as to be expected, but he doesn’t have ghost sense like Danny. Or he does? I’m still deciding.

We don’t see Vlad having any ghost sense, only Danny and Dan, and Frostbite said that his ghost sense was part of his ice powers.

On the other hand, we could say Dash suddenly feels uncomfortably hot when another ghost is nearby maybe?

He hasn’t unlocked his fire powers yet, but he’ll get there! He admires this new ghost who’s been helping him out, and actually handles the fights much better and quicker than him, and he wants to learn from him so badly.

Somehow, he hasn’t put two and two together yet, but Danny has.

Danny is scared of the Fentons. No one knows why. He just looks really put off by them and tries to leave as quickly as possible without being mean. He backs up when they approach and he stares at any new ghost hunting tech is in their hands.

Haven’t figured out Dash’s obsession yet. Maybe dogs? Or anything cartoonish? Again, still figuring it out.

Some of this might be subject to change, please remember that incase I make another post changing my mind about something. That’s all for now. Bye! 👋

[hitlikehammers]

time for that age old question: is love enough to beat back the apocalypse?

Because Steve's right there to protect everybody like the self-sacrificing asshole he is help Eddie make the music he's not strong enough for yet help them all put Vecna in the ground for good this time, right?(!??!)

or: what's the song for your walkman, baby? does it even matter?

I Could Be Your Nurse (or something)

Or: Five Times Eddie Has To Ask For Help, Plus One Time He Doesn’t Need It Anymore (but asks anyway) ✨ for @penny00dreadful 💜

<<< three: sleep 🌗

🎧 🎹 four: play 🎶 🛡️

To tell the whole truth of it: it comes too quickly—Vecna’s last stand. Of course it does.

But probably, if he’s being fair: they’d never have been really ready. Not for this, and so maybe it’s best that they’re not fully healed, not at full strength when it all comes to a head, not least because that means Vecna and his petal-toothed brigade aren’t at full strength either. And that choice, for their side, is sloppy; the Party stands on the right-side-up against the attack because they have to. Vecna makes his move because—or else, Eddie’s fairly sure—because the sadistic ballsac is losing his fucking mind.

Which is terrifying, sure, but fuck if it doesn’t help their cause.

It’s actually over pretty quick, even compared to Spring Break which, while it felt like a lifetime for how much it changed Eddie’s own, it’s only been those handful of days—but it’s kinda like the grand finale at a fireworks show: everything all at once then, done. In the everything’s though: he might not like it, but Eddie’s not so foolish as to believe he’s not still too tender, still too deep in healing the finer points of being gnawed alive to be anything but a burden in the thick of it. He refuses to be sidelined, though, and he thinks it says a lot for the long-term health of this glorious impossible thing he’s…building? Yeah, he, umm, he, Eddie Munson, is building a real goddamn thing where he doesn’t even just let someone into his heart and treasures them there, no, he’s building a thing where he gives his heart and gets on new and soft and trembling in kind and they both get to work at the treasuring of something more precious than just their own vulnerable insides, but yeah, yeah:

Eddie thinks it bodes really fucking well for the hopes he has that lean hard toward forever, already, in Eddie’s chest at least when Steve looks his way as they’re planning the teams and he locks eyes with Eddie and Eddie doesn’t even get his mouth open to breathe, to plead don’t cut me out, don’t send me to Wayne to be ‘safe’ or ‘out of harm’s way’ or whatever, don’t leave me so fucking far from you my heart hurts just because it’s beating in the middle space unmoored and shaking around all bruised up with it for not knowing and I know I can’t do what everyone else can but it’ll be bad enough not being next to you please don’t push me far enough that I won’t know the moment you’re safe, just—

Steve meets his eyes, and Eddie’s breath catches before his heart trips, and then Steve speaks up—and he doesn’t, not all that often when the nerdiest among them are shoring up the battle plans—but he watches Eddie without blinking when he pipes up:

“Eddie’s on medical and audio, with Erica and Jon.”

And maybe it’s his tone—this almost wholly novel thing in Steve that’s steely and unquestionable but no one pushes, they nod and get back to work, totally seamless and, and…yeah. That’s all Eddie wanted. Best he could hope for. Just outside the gate they go through. Close enough to hold a hand on the way down, and reach for purchase on the journey back.

Steve swallows hard, and nods at Eddie before he looks away and starts gearing up, twirls his fucking nailbat so it catches the sunlight even thought the metal’s mostly rusted, now and just…Eddie hadn’t needed to say a word. And Steve wanted to send him to safety, the way his throat had bobbed made it real clear there was something heavy he’s held back but: he’d said what he said. He’d laid the line in Eddie’s favor. Eddie wants to hold him, wants to pull him close and feel him breathe, and—

Yeah. Eddie kinda feels like the way it goes is a really good sign for their future as a couple. A couple. Them. Together.

With an always on the other side of all of this that could be kinda fucking magnificent, maybe. Given the chance.

Point being: Eddie gets himself set up with at least a full ambulance’s supplies for first aid, definitely not acquired legally, and a stereo set up he really wishes someone had been kind enough to outfit him with in not-the-apocalypse, holy shit is it gorgeous, but since the strength in his hands is still a work-in-progress, he’s gotta be ready to crank up the noise as a distraction from arm’s-length. It’s actually driving him fucking crazy—or, was; it was, pre-active return to the regularly scheduled world ending—the whole not being able to make music, to translate the noise in his head into sounds on the strings but even that, even that’s been tolerable, survivable because of Steve—who he loves, he gets to love Steve Harrington holy fuck—but Steve’s not just there to be everything and more than the air Eddie goddamn breathes, to become the music just by existing, nope, he one ups that shit: he asked Eddie if it’d be enough to learn the chords he needs. So Eddie could match the words with the notes right, so Steve could be a—

“—kinda piss-poor substitute but,” Steve had shrugged for it with a crooked grin; “but even a bad translator gets a message across, and you’d know when it’s wrong so we can figure out how to fix it and—“

And Eddie’d grabbed Steve’s chin and yanked his mouth close to fucking consume that man like a soul goddamn starved.

“I’d be a shit teacher,” Eddie had mouthed against Steve’s lips after they were sucked well-swollen; “if I still can’t lift the fucking neck for more than a minute,” but Steve had heard none of it, just shot right back:

“You don’t think we’ve beat steeper odds than that?”

And in the face of that raised brow, those red lips parted, that pulse in that neck still a little bit visible like a tease: the fuck was Eddie supposed to do but dive back in and love on the man who’d somehow agreed to be his, and to claim Eddie of all people in turn?

Which is a whole other reason why everything’s gonna be fine: Steve’s gonna make music with him. Steve’s gonna be Eddie’s muse and the vessel for what he inspires. It’s gonna be like Greek fucking poetry, except it’s gonna be them.

So Eddie’s all stocked up, s’got everyone’s floaty-bone-breaky songs queued up on blast for immediate deployment as necessary, and Steve’s the last to go through—he always is, in Eddie’s experience, waits for everyone to be safely accounted for before he spares a thought for himself and it might kill Eddie one day but not fucking today, because it’s gonna be fine—

“Eddie.”

It feels a little like history repeating itself, the way Steve huddles him in a little. Henderson’s through, with Lucas and Hopper and the weird stray Russian, but it’s not like history repeating, because Eddie’s got different words to see him off with; so fucking different.

“Last time I didn’t have,” and Steve reaches, cups Eddie’s cheek, drags down to press on his chest as his voice strains hard: “and it almost killed me,” and Steve usually pinches between his eyes to keep his feelings in check but instead of using his free hand to hold back the tears he reaches for Eddie’s and laces their fingers as his voice cracks and he chokes out:

“Please,” and it’s for everything. For all the almosts from last time; for all the possibilities rife this time. For all the hopes Eddie thinks they share beyond how this shakes out.

“Exceptionally underqualified field med,” Eddie breathes, and squeezes Steve’s hand so, so hard like a promise, because it is; “exceptionally overqualified DJ,” and Steve chuckles, wet but real and it’s enough, because:

“I got it, Stevie,” Eddie bends his forehead to Steve’s to say better than with words that he’s not in this to be a hero, he’ll be right here the whole time, but that doesn’t mean he…that doesn’t mean he can help but to ask this time:

“Just,” and the breath in him punches out unexpectedly as he damn-near begs:

“Only bring me back the little things, yeah? That I know how to fix?”

And they both hear what’s said underneath it:

Don’t turn around and die down there, and kill me in kind..

And—if anyone’s keeping track—they turn out not to need it but: the way the kiss is a wholeass wartime farewell, man.

And then: Eddie waits, and fucks with the speakers for less than an hour before the earth shakes, and his heart drops, but then he hears it.

The fucking whooping of those shitheads echoing through the cracks.

And then he sees it, runs, grabs the first hand that’s clinging to the rope this time and pulls with strength he doesn’t have, is probably more a hindrance than a help but he steadies them each back on the ground and hugs them so tight, kisses more than one of them on the head or the cheek as he doesn’t pretend not to be sobbing through the laughter because they did it, they fucking did it, somehow it’s over and he loves these people and he’s so fucking happy they’re alive and safe and here and—

And the person he loves more, loves most, brings up the rear, a little bloodied, a little scratched up, dingy with the fucking air down there but smiling and Eddie…

Eddie falls into him so fucking hard they both hit the ground and just, just grab onto one another. Just hold and breathe and catch lips every few seconds like an afterthought because they feel each other’s heartbeat where their chests are pressed tight and it’s, they’re…

Steve’s got four broken fingers across both hands. None in a row. He’s basically giving a Vulcan salute by default for how they’re taped.

Eddie loves him so goddamn much it hurts.

And Eddie’d obviously known—once things start to settle in the days that’ve followed—that teaching Steve guitar with those Spock-y hands was on the back burner, but he does ask Steve to sit, and to rest, and to help hum back the tunes in Eddie’s head while Eddie jots lyrics with a hand that’s still shaky but steadying out more every day, and it’s kind of perfect, and Steve adds some things into the melodies either on purpose or by accident but they’re better for it every time and—

Muse and vessel, man. The light of Eddie’s whole goddamn life.

With fucking Vulcan hands still, though, so: excuse Eddie for being…bewildered when his boyfriend—boyfriend, that’s his boyfriend—but his taped-up-healing-Vulcan-handed boyfriend is propping the front door open and lugging in a long, not-recovery-friendly thing that looks close to dropping on his toes and—

“The fuck are you doing?” Eddie asks with a little more panic in his voice than he’d hoped for as he rushes as best he can to where Steve’s kicking the door shut behind him, fluttering his hands around uselessly as Steve maneuvers past him, leans across for a peck at the corner of Eddie’s mouth and calls—“It’s fine, it weighs, like, nothing”—over his shoulder as he settles the, the thing down on the coffee table in the living room they’ve started actually using for, y’know.

Living.

Eddie follows him in, though, because of course, he’s half-a-dog on that man’s heels, whole-caught-in-the-gravity-of-his-everything: but Eddie follows as Steve tosses himself backward with something in his hand, rolls and rucks up his fucking absurd Hawking Middle tee across the sweet curve of his hips, the way the soft give of skin tempts Eddie to run his tongue over the trail of almost-curls, like baby-curls where they lead under the waist of his jeans: Eddie would happily volunteer to survive on the taste of that musky-delicate space until the end of goddamn time—

But then Steve’s huffing a breathless ha from behind a chair where he’d been stretched to reach and a light catches Eddie’s eye from his periphery where he’d been staring unblinking just at Steve: the big long black thing on the coffee table. It takes a genuine concerted effort not to keep at the Steve-staring—not an uncommon state of Eddie’s existence, in all fairness—and check what’s glowing on the table: something turned on. Was plugged in, right, that’s what had Steve rolling on the floor without Eddie on top of or being deliciously pinned down by him.

The something being the big long black thing that Eddie takes in for the whole of it, now: a keyboard.

“Jon picked it up for me second-hand from the place next to Fox Photo when he drove down for his camera, and Rob vouched that it’s a good brand and like, really good condition,” Steve’s raised up on his knees, now with his hands braces on his thighs as Eddie studies the keys, fingers the ends of a every few of the naturals.

“Rob helped with those, too, so I’d know the right, like, chords,” and yeah: they’re stupa of masking tape stuck to the keys with letters in blue, black, and red pen, alternating so they don’t get mixed up, some with and arrow, Eddie assumes, to indicate a sharp.

“I only remember like half of one song from when my parents thought it would look good to have me take piano lessons,” Steve huffs in whole-ass judgment; “my mom wanted the endorsement of the guy who was stepping down from city council, and his wife taught private lessons, so, y’know,” Steve rolls his eyes; “super convenient leading up to the election.”

“What song?”

Steve blinks, tips his head in askance for what Eddie recognizes very clearly as something closer to a croak than a question, his throat all tight. He tries to cough, to clear it.

“What song do you remember?”

Steve snorts at that, leans back on his palms, and fuck is he beautiful.

“Clair de Lune,” Steve grins crooked; “the one song I was allowed to pick, instead of just being assigned.”

“Why’d you pick it?” Not that Eddie doesn’t like it or anything. It’s more that…he knew Steve could more than just drum fingers on keys, if only just, and that a baby grand used to sit in the corner where there’s a stereo cabinet now, but.

But: see, there’s like a whole half of his heart that’s dedicated to collecting new knowledge about everything Steve: his favorite food when he was 12 versus the now. How his favorite color became his favorite color. The story behind all the polos. The nitty-gritties about why he’s in a big-ass house alone for approximately 360 days a year, and how long it’s been that way. Eddie’s whole heart is basically Steve’s but every day that half overflows a little, and Eddie’s only keeping it relegated to parts filled with Steve-lore so he can feel the collection break containment every other day, this grand and joyous bursting under his ribs as everything spills over again, and again, and again until it’s all just Steve, and his heart has to burst or stretch, or both.

Eddie thinks both will be amazing.

And right now, in the interest of building toward that amazing-both: he wants to know why Debussy.

Steve chuckles to himself—better music than any dead French guy by a country mile—and eyes Eddie almost slyly.

“Do you remember Claire Reynolds?”

Vaguely. Like, very vaguely. He remembers…uneven pigtails. Very actual-cult-like vibes about her family as a vague impression and now that he’s bringing it to mind he feels a new wave of indignation: those Children-of-the-Corn motherfuckers were just fine but Eddie liked a board game and he was probably a murderer.

“When we were in like, first grade,” Steve’s continuing on; “she asked me every, single, day, to come over and see her sheep.” Steve looks up at Eddie and bites his lower lip, lets his gaze dance and lets Eddie fall into it for a few dazed seconds before he spells it out.

“She had these crazy eyes about it, it was kinda unsettling,” Steve nudges, but Eddie’s doesn’t get it until:

“And it’s not like I do now, because obviously I don’t, but I definitely didn’t speak a lick of French when I was eight.”

It takes Eddie a hot second before he snorts hard enough to hurt:

Claire, da Loon.

“I was eight,” Steve protests Eddie’s laughter halfheartedly even as he joins in, reaches to slap at Eddie’s upper arm which honestly: just makes him laugh harder.

“Anyway,” Steve fights through the last of the chuckling as it peters out between them, drags himself to sitting next to the coffee table and taps his hand to the top of the keyboard.

“I know it’s not the same as learning guitar to help, and I can probably only get the top and bottom notes with these,” he lifts his Vulcan-fingers his a shrug; “but I was hoping that’d be better than nothing?”

And, like, how Eddie was talking about his heart having to swell, for all the things he gets to tuck inside of it that come with loving Steve Harrington?

He might crack a rib, just now, because—

“This is for me?”

Steve purses his lips, lifts a brow:

“Well, technically it’s for me,” steve singles his fingers, which looks absurd with the splints; “but yeah. To help you get the songs out. I mean, once these are free again, you can help me with the guitar like we talked about, until you’re—“

And Eddie cannot be blamed, see: he cannot be fucking blamed for tackling Steve to the floor and kissing him hard enough to bruise because…

“You got hurt,” Eddie half-breathes between kisses; “you got hurt and I was so afraid I was gonna lose you,” and Eddie reaches for those taped fingers and kisses them, too: so gentle and Steve’s expression softens so quick:

“I was scared, too,” he whispers between them, cups Eddie’s face with his unloaded hand; “you were as safe as I could make you within the fucking city limits but I was still so goddamn scared.”

Cue more rib-cracking for the heart-swelling, because Jesus fucking Christ.

“And you,” Eddie exhales, slow and shaky; “you’re hurt, but you went and got,” he nods to the keyboard;

“I know it’s not ideal,” Steve’s quick to, to what, apologize? For being insane and perfect and—

“Shut up,” Eddie says, voice low and watery and he’s still kissing at Steve’s fingers, holding his wrist delicate but also like a lifeline.

“You’re hurt,” Eddie maybe kinda moans it because he hates it, as much as he’s so fucking grateful that’s it’s just this, no worse than this; “and you still—”

“I promised, didn’t I?”

And that…that’s one thing Eddie’s learned beyond reproach; that even to his detriment, Steve keeps his goddamn promises.

And he’d promised to help Eddie get his words out, to place the lyrics to the notes and help unclutter his brain so he didn’t lose his mind.

Holy fucking hell.

“Steve,” Eddie starts, shakes his head, needs to find the right words. “You’re alive,” the most important thing. “You are healing,” another most important thing, for Eddie to oversee and make sure of, even as Steve keeps an eye on the last lingering threads of the long haul on Eddie’s road to recovery in kind, his beloved mother hen.

“This is,” and he runs his fingers too light to draw sounds across the keys, hopes he sounds as awed and grateful as he feels; “but you, you’ve gotta test, you have to,” and Eddie shakes his head and lifts his eyes to just fucking ask it:

“Why?”

And Steve: Steve just studies his face for a few seconds, reads what he needs before he smiles kinda exasperated, mostly fond and answers so simply, while also breaking a few more of Eddie’s ribs when he just says:

“Because I love you.”

And Eddie’s heart’s not so overfull yet of all of Steve, it’s not fair that it just bursts right then and there, Eddie propelled into Steve’s arms to kiss him deep this time, like he’s searching out Steve’s soul to taste and maybe he is, save that he needs his heart to not have exploded for feeling if he’s going to keep the memory of it safe in his chest for always, he needs to patch his heart back up first but he’s too distracted, too drowned in the way love actually fucking feels, fucking shifts his cells around and makes a new version of him, lets his heart grow bigger except it went and blasted apart with the unprecedented immensity of loving and—

And then Eddie’s got Steve’s taped up hands on both his cheeks, and he remembers that night, in the shower, where Steve ripped the seams from his shirt so taking it off wouldn’t hurt him; notices how Steve is wearing that same fucking shirt in this very moment, all in one piece, like it never split apart in the first place.

Master seamstress, tried and tested and true; truer than anything.

So Eddie just dives back in and kisses with everything in him, thinks maybe when Steve tastes the pieces of Eddie’s blowout heart under his tongue while Eddie goes diving for the sweet lick of Steve’s soul:

Eddie thinks Steve’s mouth might know how to stitch up torn things, too. Especially the kinds that are ripped at their seams wholly for the sake of loving that fucking hard.

✨permanent tag list: OPEN (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @pearynice @hbyrde36 @slashify @finntheehumaneater @wxrmland @dreamwatch @perseus-notjackson @estrellami-1 @bookworm0690 @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @nerdyglassescheeseychick @swimmingbirdrunningrock @goodolefashionedloverboi @sanctumdemunson

divider credits here & here

👾 title credit here

💫 ao3 link here

[flys-writing-drabbles]

OLIVER (DIALTOWN) ANGST!

[tw: transphobia and twisted views of gender and presentation because of it!]

Oliver flopped back onto his bed, a heavy groan leaving his speaker as his tail thrashed about frantically. The once enjoyable sound of the bells on the end of the beige cord only served to further his pissed off mood. He yanked the bells off, the ringing from them growing louder as he tossed them across his room at the door. His head felt heavy, loud and foggy all at once. It was like all of his thoughts were clambering for his attention. All of them yelling “Hey! Hey, Oliver! Look at me!” Getting told to go home by his own adopted father hadn’t helped. To be fair, Dickens could tell something was up with him and he knew damn well that Oliver couldn’t have made it through the rest of his shift without blowing up on at least one customer. Too bad he hadn’t got there in time to stop that from happening.

“Uh, hello, ma’am-” He could clearly remember that was exactly what that customer said. He also remembered scraping his fingernails into the counter as he tried to politely correct them.

“Yeahhh, it’s sir, actually. Y’know, he/him n’ all that stuff.” The tilt of their head said everything.

“Uh-huh.. But, you aren’t, you’re a girl.” The customer waving their hands around in his face was probably what set him off. That and the blatant transphobia obviously.

“Listen, I’ve had a long day, can you just tell me what movie you want to see?” His tail lashed dangerously behind him, just out of sight of the person he was talking to. He honestly kinda wished they had seen it.

“Ma’am, you don’t have to call yourself a boy to fit in.. I know times are different nowadays, but a pretty lady like yourself doesn’t have to change.” He vividly remembered the customer taking one of his hands into their own and cupping it like they were doing him a favor with their words. It took all of his will power to not punch them.

“Phone lord.. What aren’t you getting!? I’m not a girl! I’m a guy, a male, a dude! I’ve worked hard to be one and I’d really prefer it if you didn’t play my identity off as a joke or a trend!” He’d pulled his hand back so fast, tears pooling in his sensor, but he refused to let them fall. Transphobia be damned, he wouldn’t cry in front of them.

Then Mr. Dickens stepped in, told him to go home and dealt with that bitch of a customer. Recalling it only brought the tears back to his sensor, which he quickly wiped away. If he was going to be seen as a man, he wasn’t going to cry like a girl. He hated that’s how he had to see things now. How he had to purposely avoid things seen as even remotely feminine to avoid being called a woman. He curled in on himself, he really wished he could take out his stuffed animals from underneath his bed. Curl up with one of those instead but they’re just another “girly” thing he needed to cut out. Everything that would calm him down wasn’t masculine enough for him to want to do. Painting his nails, coloring in one of those adult coloring books, all of it was too feminine.

He eventually choked back the sobs that were threatening to leave his throat, easing into a shallow sleep. His chest heaved as he slept, like he couldn’t exactly breathe properly.

[esquen]

Hey I loved ur last post, could you do a Jude smut where they’re best friends and it’s her first time <3

this is tooooo cute !!

euphoric ;; j.b

smut under the cut, proceed at your own caution

“how many bodies do you have?” jude asked, putting down his cup of water as you set up to couch for bed.

“none.” you shrugged and turned back to him as you fixed your sleeping shorts.

“none? you’re nineteen years old with no bodies?” he asked.

“yeah. is that a problem?” you asked and giggled as you pulled your shirt down.

“well i mean, it’s kind of pathetic.” he joked, watching your expression change from amusement to sadness.

you two joked like that all the time, so why did it hurt for him to call you pathetic?

“oh.” you replied and got on the couch, turning to face away from him.

“oh c’mon, don’t tell me that actually hurt your feelings.” he asked nervously.

you didn’t respond, just scrolled through twitter and instagram until he found the courage to get up and pull the covers off of you.

“y/n.” he said sternly, waiting for you to turn around. when you did and he saw your face, his eyes softened.

“i’m sorry.” he apologized and watched as you wiped your eyes. “sorry, i’m overreacting.” you sniffed and sat up.

“you aren’t pathetic y/n.” he whispered as he sat on the couch next to you.

“you’re great. i hope you find someone who w—“ you cut him off with a kiss to the lips.

you pulled back and what you did had registered. “oh, god.” you whispered. “sorry.. i’m just—“

without another thought, jude pulled you back into the kiss.

you pulled away one more to catch your breath and sit up correctly, cupping his face with both hands as you went back in.

his hands traveled under your shirt and right above the waistband of your shorts.

“mm, wait.” he pulled away and rubbed his thumb on your hips as you searched his eyes for the reason why he pulled away.

“we should go to my room.” he whispered and stared at your lips, pulling you in again.

“loved you ever since i met you,” you stated and pecked his lips again. “wanted to do this for such a long time.”

“yeah?” he asked, laying his hand on the small of your back. he slowly backed up to give you room to get up.

you stood up as his arms wrapped around the back of your thighs, signaling you to jump.

when you did you wrapped your legs around his waist and he kept his hands on your ass, walking off towards his room with you in his arms.

he dropped you on the bed carefully, leaning down to place a kiss on your lips before straightening up again.

“okay first i need to.. open you up. so it won’t hurt when i go in.” he left chaste kisses down from your collarbone, down your chest and to your waist.

“don’t wanna do that— need you right now.” you whined. “i can’t, it’ll hurt and make it no fun for you.” he spoke and placed his hands on your waist.

“don’t care.” you shoke your head. again he refused, pulling at your waistband. “listen to me. please?” he asked as he pulled your shorts down.

“.. fine.” you huffed and watched as he slipped your underwear off aswell. “you’re so good.” he spoke and parted your legs slightly.

“how long have you been like this?” he asked, running his thumb past your slit. “since i saw you today.” you whispered.

“really?” you nodded and he slowly stuck a finger into you, whining at the sensation. “shit, you’re really tight. it’s gonna hurt a little.” he spoke, using his other hand to rub your clit.

“there you go..” he praised as you began to ease up, able to put two fingers in.

“ready?” he asked. you looked at him confused before he curled his fingers, trying to look for your g spot.

you gasped at the feeling, grabbing his wrist. “c’mon, you can take it.” he pushed, continuing to use his fingers to open you up.

“i think— ‘m gonna cum.” you whispered and dragged your hips along his hands.

“do you feel it? in your stomach?” he asked. you nodded silently and bit your lip before he felt your clench on his fingers.

“fuck!” you squeaked, your bestfriend bringing you to an orgasm.

you sighed out and looked up at him before he pulled his fingers out. “you think you’re ready for me?” he asked.

you nodded impatiently as he pulled his plaid pajama pants down along with his boxers.

“it might be.. a little uncomfortable.” he explained, pulling you towards the side of the bed where he stood.

when you looked down, you saw what we have talking about. he was big, bigger than his fingers that was for sure.

“you alright?” he asked, putting a hand on your stomach.

“just nervous.” you spoke with a shaky breath, laying back down. “dont tense up, it’ll hurt more.” he suggested and grabbed the base if his dick with his left hand, pushing into you slightly.

you were already struggling to take him, your jaw clenched and your cunt squeezing the life out of him.

“shit,, ease up would you?” he rubbed your tummy as you slowly let go.

“that’s right, just like that.” he praised, pushing in the rest.

it felt like an eternity as you laid there, waiting to get used to it.

“are you okay? does it hurt?” he asked. you shook your head. “feels weird. i feel full.” you huffed out.

“okay.. move.” you asked before jude immediately started pulling his hips back and fowards.

“oh—“ the air got knocked out of your lungs when he pushed back in.

“shit, i can barely move baby.” jude struggles as he grabbed your waist and continued on.

“please, please—“ you whined, pushing your hips to meet his. he winced and pushed your hips down to keep you planted.

“there you, just like that huh?” you nodded and grabbed the hand that rested on your left hip.

“wait, i’m gonna cum again,” you whispered, looking up at him.

“hold on baby, i’m right behind you.” he replied out of breath.

“mm mm, can’t hold it.” you complained. “okay, c’mon let go.” he approved, pulling you down to meet his thrusts.

“oh fuck!” you cried out and grabbed his wrist as he came along with you, a long groan escaping his lips.

“there you go.” he spoke, pulling out of you completely.

you shut your eyes for a second before he shook you. your eyes flashed open and he began wiping you down with a cloth.

“you can’t go to sleep yet, we have to get you in the shower.” he offered his hand which you took, wrapping his arms around your hips.

“i hope this wasn’t just meaningless sex, y/n.” he whispered and let you sit on the toilet. you frowned at that and looked at him.

“you think i only had sex with you to get it over with?” you asked as he turned the shower on.

“i hope that isn’t the case.” he pulled his head out of the curtain to look at you.

“it isn’t. i promise. that was the most euphoric thing i’ve ever felt.” you smiled at him.

[thatlightbluefox]

What got Butch interest in Bubbles in ur AU?

(I’m going to yap so hard rn)

Their crippling fear of change brings them together 🙏

Butch wants to stick to what he already knows, which is being a villain, that’s why he refuses to interact with the girls or his brothers (for ‘going soft’) when his brothers are actually just looking to be more than just a vessel to defeat some superheroes over ten years ago. Butch is pretty much just unsure of what he’d be if he wasn’t sticking to what he’s known for a long time, who would he be if he wasn’t a member of one of the feared and strongest criminals of Townsville? Who would he be if he wasn’t just dedicated to beating them? He’s done it his whole life, why stop now?

Bubbles wants to stick to her childhood, she isn’t ready to grow up yet. Realistically her and her sisters will always be there to defend Townsville no matter what yet she knows that at some point Blossom and Buttercup would want to pursue other goals than just being heroes. Buttercup has her band and Blossom is looking to become successful. Like anyone they’ll leave home soon enough just to pursue those goals which is what scares her. She’s afraid she won’t have her sisters like she always has (especially with Townsville’s progression the girls would basically be free to just be normal girls the moment the sudden monster problems and super-villains are under control.)

Both are irrational with this (Bubbles’ sisters could always just return home, they’ve got super flight and aren’t going away forever. Butch would just need to let go of the idea implemented in him for, yet he’s too stubborn to listen to his brother’s.) which leads to them connecting after Butch accidentally helped Bubbles fight a monster due to his need for adrenaline.

They slowly bond after that. Ironically, the reason they stuck together was because out of everything changing in Townsville they’re the only two that seem to keep the idea that ‘change is scary which is why I won’t change’

(And that just leads to them growing together)

That’s what I have at the moment though! :3

Might change, might not!

[aliesbienish]

A study of wolves: chapter three

chapter one ✩ chapter two

Paul Lahote x Reader

- The previous day -

“Why did we even agree to this study, clearly she is going to notice signs that the wolves around here aren’t always of the typical gray variety?” Paul questioned the tribal council, pacing at the foot of the meeting table.

“Son we didn’t have a choice, the majority of the land you boys protect falls out of the reservation. It was going ahead anyway, so it made sense to at least have someone from the council always there to steer clear of anything suspicious,” Billy placated, hands up in surrender to the clearly riled man.

“Billy’s right Paul,” Sam chimed in “there wasn’t an option. Plus this way we get income from the cabin and a guide. You know we need this to complete the maintenance on the school.”

“So you are okay with us becoming a study? Because we all know between the cameras and her field observation training we’re fucked. There is no way we can always play it safe with these cold ones lurking around, a mistake is inevitable.”

“Son,” Billy continued “it’s not even like it’s an issue anymore. You’ve imprinted on her, so she is one of us now. It’s well within reason to tell her what is going on.”

“No” Paul growled. “That is my choice and it’s absolutely not happening. Some silly idea that she’s my soulmate doesn’t change the fact she is a complete stranger. We don’t how she’ll react, there is no way I’m risking it,”

“You might not have a choice if she catches sight of something she’s not supposed to.”

“This is my only choice, and I’m not letting anyone taking it from me. Not even you.”

Billy sighed, resting his head in his hands. The chief was well aware what Paul’s reservations were really about. “Son, I know you didn’t want this. But please understand this is a blessing from the spirits, fighting this will only hurt you,”

“I refuse to let my choice be taken away, and I refuse to let hers. I will help to keep our secret safe but once this project is over she will leave and life will continue. And I don’t want anyone to try to do anything to change that.”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The sky was clear but the southerly winds whipped ferociously along the cliff face where Paul parked up. The great blue expanse of ocean was mesmerising, stretching out as far as the eye could see. It was in moments like this you felt solace, out of the noise and bustle of large cities. Just the sounds of birds, waves crashing and winds whistling amongst the trees. After taking the moment to ground yourself you made your way over to the truck bed to grab your gear, Paul doing the same with his own bag.

“What’s the plan?”

“Well the most recent report says the last sighting was off this trail here,” you said pointing across the gravel road and to the unsigned trail head. “It happened in a clearing about four miles in so I think we head out there keeping an eye out on the way.”

“Sure thing boss. Anything you want me to keep an eye out for?”

“If you wouldn’t mind looking for prints, the ground should be pretty muddy under the vegetation cover so anything that’s been here since the previous rainfall last week should have left a mark. I don’t think we’ll actually come across a wolf since they’re nocturnal. But hopefully we can find a good spot for at least one of the cameras,”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

For the past hour you had been hiking in relative silence. Paul lead the way, keeping a steady but maintainable pace. The trail itself was muddy but relatively flat, and wide enough you didn’t have to squeeze past any bushes. So far you hadn’t spotted anything apart from a wild rabbit that darted across the path in front of you.

Seeing a fallen trunk parallel to the path up ahead you decided now was as good a time as any to have a break.

“You keen for some morning tea?” You called to your companion, who gave you a nod and slowed down.

Perching on the thankfully stable trunk you pulled out the first of the sandwich haul.

“What’s your poison; PB & J or ham and cheese?”

“Whatever one you don’t want,”

“Na-ah, that wasn’t my question now was it. What kind of boss would I be if I just gave my worker scraps?”

“A standard one,” Paul smirked. Before grabbing the ham and cheese sandwich from the lunchbox. “Thanks”

“So Paul,” you began after a few bites of food, “what do you usually do besides leading clueless city girls around the forest ?”

“Thanks for making me sound like a serial killer. Plus I wouldn’t call you clueless,”

“I mean in the serial killer equation I think I’d rather be clueless. Would be worse if I willingly followed a killer into the middle of nowhere. Now answer the question idiot,” you laughed affectionately.

“Whatever the council needs really. Usually some form of construction or land maintenance,”

“Do you enjoy it? I imagine it’s nice to be working with your hands and doing something different every day?”

“I do. It’s not what I had anticipated doing, but it keeps me busy. I don’t think I could ever work in an office.”

“What did you think you’ll be doing?” You paused a second, and realised you may be getting too intrusive with someone you didn’t know. Something about Paul just made you want to dig into what made him…well him. “Sorry you don’t have to answer that. I’ll just shut up,”

“Don’t worry [y/n], it’s fine. But you have to swear you won’t tell anyone,”

“I solemnly swear,” you declared grabbing his left pinkie with your right.

“Child,” Pull laughed, before wrapping his pinkie around your own. “I also thought by now I’d be travelling the country. Maybe working with animals on my way, at a ranch or something like that,”

“Nothing wrong with that at all. In fact it’s smart, animals are obviously much better than people,”

“Obviously,” he snorted.

“May I asked what changed?”

“Ah just council things really, it’s my duty to the tribe.”

You could tell he was skirting around the answer, but you knew it would be beyond rude to pry any further.

“Well there’s still plenty of time to try something new,” you declared as you swung your backpack on. “Shall we continue future cowboy?”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Hope you all enjoyed xx

[stardust-sunset]

I really do hope that more evidence is coming forward soon because I do admit, the fact that both Brody and Trevor are out for the week does seem sketchy. But so does the way that all of these allegations came out. It only seems to be talked about on Instagram and Reddit and nowhere else.

that’s what i’m saying-all of this is so sketchy. maybe it’s inconvenient timing? but there’s so many things wrong with this that point me to believe it isn’t true

First off there’s so many inconsistencies within the posts. Nobody has shown any actual proof other than someone claiming they know where Brody went to college. But since I’m a bit of an ‘I need evidence’ kind of person, I figured I’d check it out. They claim he went to UF but I found nothing about him going to UF online. Second, why is it JUST Brody they’re going after? They’re claiming the cast is “full of r*pists” but they aren’t focused on anyone but Brody.

Second, you think that there would be a news outlet talking about this. I mean, rape allegations are serious and should be handled as such. So it’s weird that Instagram is the first place this all came out. The night after the Tony’s nonetheless. There was no concrete proof either. This chick just said that she ‘knew it and that everyone else did too’ when she was contacted by the actual musical themselves (at one of the producers at least)

Third off is the accuser’s response to any form of criticism. Normally in a case like this, it would make sense to show evidence when faced with criticism and skepticism and be like ‘okay, yes, this is why this happened’ and instead she doubled down and said shit like ‘oh where’s your address so I can mail you a clown suit’ and ‘everyone knows it’ without proving anything.

Fourthly Angelina Jolie is the producer of this. She stands with victims and is fairly open about it. If there was even an inkling that Brody did this don’t you think she’d fire him on the spot? There are also claims of police involvement and investigation but I’ve found no such thing. The original accuser fails to provide sourcing-which is also suspicious. You’d think she’d provide sourcing on where she gets her information but she doesn’t. You’d think she would have solid concrete evidence rather than just doubling down and saying ‘that’s what happened’. That’s the kind of shit you do when like-your sibling hits you and they’re lying about it by saying ‘oh it happened everyone knows it’ without providing solid evidence.

Fifthly, there was another post that the cast was talking about how they were gonna win best musical and everyone else could leave-you saw the video of Brody ripping his shirt off and speed changing into his tux for the Best Actor Award. There was no way he had any involvement in that at least. And secondly, I seriously don’t think any of them had time for that. I really don’t.

Sixthly, I met some of the cast when I went. They were all super nice and when they saw me with my cane they asked me if they could do the face touching thing and were perfectly okay when I said no. And from what I’ve heard Brody is like that too and asks for consent before touching a fan. Heard this from a few people.

It’s really suspicious that this all only comes to light after they won best musical. It’s more suspicious that they’re only going after Brody and nobody else. They say the cast is full of r*pists but then refuse to provide names other than Brody Grant. And there were people that were super pissed that Suffs and Hell’s kitchen didn’t win the Best Musical Award. So it could be plausible that people are trying to take them down for whatever reason. Maybe because they’re men and won. I dunno.

I’m of course not saying it didn’t happen. I was SA’ed when I was younger by my late grandfather. I know how hard it is to want to come forward about these things. But it’s extremely sketchy the way these things played out. I do admit that Brody taking a step back is awfully suspicious too. But I don’t have insight on that and I don’t feel like stalking this poor man’s whereabouts. He could be taking a break-I mean, it’s been a few months. He could be on vacation. Who knows? And there have been many, many times that people have lied about rape for clout. Like the Kwite situation a few years back. Now am I saying this didn’t happen? No. No Im not. Am I saying this is extraordinarily sketchy and that there’s no solid evidence this girl provided? Yes. Yes I am.

I’m not saying anyone did or didn’t do anything until it’s been proven by an actual news source and not some girl on IG. But if these allegations are true, of course I hope Brody gets fired and serves prison time for what he’s done. If not, I hope her IG account gets taken down and she serves time. Accusing an innocent person of r*pe should be just as illegal as the crime they’re being accused of. That could ruin someone’s whole life.

This whole thing is sketchy. That’s where I’ll leave it.

[EDIT] I’ve been looking into it. It’s not uncommon for actors to take breaks after the Tony Awards. I don’t blame him for taking a break. I can’t say much about Trevor though. Apparently Shoshana Bean is taking a break too.

[mizuhandpics]

sooooo I wrote a roommates au drabble based on this post. enjoy :)

special thanks to @kiraman for the encouragement hehe

contains: gay awakenings, sex talks, masturbation, akemizu <3

“Taigen hasn’t been around in a while.” Mizu’s voice yanked Akemi out of her fragile concentration. She looked up from her laptop at Mizu, who lounged on the opposite end of their couch, a book laying open in her lap. Akemi was momentarily stunned. Mizu never asked about Akemi’s boyfriend. Well, ex-boyfriend now. In fact, she was pretty sure Mizu had never even said his name out loud before now. She sighed and shut her laptop. 

She had texted him only a week ago, fed up that he stood her up for the umpteenth time. “Are you ever going to spend time with me?” Akemi had texted him. His response: “you know how important this job is, Akemi.” “Aren’t I important too??” A typing ellipses popped up on her phone screen momentarily, then disappeared. Taigen didn’t respond. Akemi texted again: “Fine. We’re done.” 

Akemi tells her as much, curious to see Mizu’s eyebrows rise at the news. Akemi felt a tidal wave rise in her chest, bolstered by Mizu’s expression of mild interest, and launched directly into girl talk, frustrations bubbling out of her like an overflowing sink.

“Like, I’m not that  upset about it, we hardly saw each other anyway, but it’s just annoying, right? Like, why waste my time if you don’t even give a shit about me? Honestly the only thing I’m going to miss about him is the sex. Actually, no, not even that! I was the one putting in all the work! I was the reason our sex was good at all! It was always me on top while he laid there like a dead fish. And don’t get me wrong, I like being on top, but not all the time! Sometimes I like getting pushed around a bit, you know? Get rough with me! Eat me out once in a while! But noooo, Prince Taigen just had to always act like he was too sore from work to do shit. Idiot! Um, Mizu, are you feeling okay?” Akemi took a breath, distracted by a flush darkening Mizu’s face, her eyebrows so high on her forehead they looked like they could fuse with her hairline. Suddenly self-conscious, Akemi stammered out an apology. “Shit, my bad!! I just assumed… sorry, Mizu, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” 

“It’s fine,” Mizu said, looking anywhere except at Akemi. Akemi’s eyes followed the pink of Mizu’s skin, which spread from her cheeks down her slender throat, disappearing beneath the collar of her shirt. She felt her own cheeks pinking as she thought about everything she just spilled to her quiet roommate. What was she thinking?! She hardly knew anything about Mizu, and now Mizu knew more about Akemi’s sad sex life than she probably ever intended to find out. Mizu coughed uncomfortably. “You could always… find a hookup?” She sounded hesitant. 

Akemi blinked at her, a small smile spreading on her face. She had expected Mizu to make an excuse to leave the room, to change the subject. Mizu’s (annoyingly pretty) blue eyes were actually meeting Akemi’s now, completely serious about the suggestion. Akemi almost giggled. It was sweet. 

“Ugh, there’s no way I would be able to find a hookup who would actually be able to satisfy me,” Akemi rolled her eyes, grinning in earnest, “I’ve tried before, trust me. I mean, you know men—” Akemi stopped herself at that thought, and eyed Mizu. “Or, maybe you don’t? You’re… gay, right?” 

Mizu actually laughed at that, the sound soft and light. She had a nice laugh. “Is it obvious?” Mizu asked, knowing it was obvious. “But I’ve been with men before.” Akemi’s mouth gaped slightly at the admission. She folded her legs up under her and scooted incrementally closer to Mizu on the couch. 

“Really? You have?” Mizu just shrugged in response, refusing to elaborate. Akemi breathed sharply through her nose. How could her roommate still be so annoyingly cagey when they were bonding? 

“So you get it,” Akemi continued, “Hooking up with men is terrible. They’re done in five minutes, and then have the audacity to not even be interested in round two! Even when they do manage to make me come, it’s still not satisfying, you know? Like, I can just keep going and they’re ready to tap out as soon as we’ve both come once. Like, are they not embarrassed?” 

Mizu seemed to sit back and consider Akemi as she paused to throw her hands up in the air in frustration. The pause lingered and Akemi felt pinned under Mizu’s sharp scrutiny. 

“Do you even like men?” Mizu narrowed her eyes at her. Akemi eyebrows shot up her forehead and her heart stuttered in her chest. 

“Wha— what do you mean by that?!” 

“It’s just a question.” 

“I mean, obviously, right? I’ve been with lots of men, haven’t I?” 

“Why are you asking me? Do you not know?” 

“Because— because!” Akemi couldn’t think of a reason. What did she like about dating men? She tried to answer the question, and her mind went terrifyingly blank. “What’s it like being with women, then?” Akemi frowned at Mizu accusingly. The woman had the audacity to grin devilishly, a fierce look Akemi had never seen on her before. It made something in her gut twist uncomfortably.

“Fun.” Mizu answered simply. 

Akemi could feel her heartbeat in her throat. Could she say that about any of her encounters with men? Was it ever fun, or was it just… a chore? Suddenly, Akemi felt herself wondering about Mizu. What did she like in bed? What did she find… fun? A hot flush rose to her cheeks and she stopped those thoughts where they were. 

“Yeah, umh… okay. Thanks for talking to me, Mizu. I think I’m gonna go take a shower.” Akemi forced herself to laugh, to distract from the obvious discomfort in her face. She scrambled to her bathroom, feeling Mizu’s eyes following her until she disappeared behind the door, burning a hole in her back. 

The shower head stuttered to life and Akemi leaned over the bathroom sink as the water began to heat up. She regarded herself in the mirror, frowning at the ruddiness in her cheeks that refused to recede. What the hell was that all about? Akemi doesn’t get flustered, she just doesn’t. She always prided herself on that, staying cool under pressure, having complete control over herself, her body, having the freedom to choose who she was attracted to. 

And she was attracted to them, right? Taigen was a good looking man, he was nice most of the time, he was never pushy with her. Akemi might have actually liked him, if he was around more. And he was easy. Her heart never raced around him, not like it was doing now, beating out of control. 

Akemi stepped under the hot water and exhaled shakily. She tried to relax her shoulders as the water soaked her, but she couldn’t get that word out of her head. Fun. Mizu’s voice rang in her ears, and when Akemi closed her eyes, she saw Mizu, sitting cross-legged on the couch, that fucking grin on her face, the mischievous curl of her lips around that word, fun. Akemi shook her head, shaking away the thought. 

But maybe Mizu was right, not about the hookup, but maybe Akemi just needed to get off, to let herself be distracted for a while. 

She dragged her hands across her own body, touching her skin the way she liked to be touched, her soft sigh swallowed up by noise of the shower and the bathroom fan whirring. Akemi bit her lip as she pinched and tugged at her nipples, sensitive buds hardening, stoking her own arousal. One hand dipped between her legs, stroked her clit, hissing at the stimulation. Her fingers rubbed slow circles around her clit and she leaned her head back, letting the hot water soak her hair and run down her face, cascade over her shoulders, roll past her clavicle and down her chest. She tried picturing Taigen. Akemi remembered the way he looked beneath her when they fucked, his lips parted and gasping as she rolled her hips onto his cock. Her fingers stopped moving as she felt her arousal wane frustratingly. She pictured him and suddenly it felt as though she were touching dead skin, all her nerve endings dulled. 

She breathed for a moment, eyes opening to stare at the ceiling. Maybe she should try something different. In the heat of the shower, enveloped by steam and curtained by water, she could try something different and no one else would have to know.

Akemi closed her eyes again and pictured Mizu. She pictured Mizu after she came home from wherever she would disappear to at night, clothes soaked in sweat and sometimes blood. She pictured the moments she would sit with Mizu on the edge of the bathtub, sanitizing and bandaging deep gashes on her back where Mizu couldn’t reach. Akemi could almost hear the way Mizu would hiss as she cleaned her wounds with rubbing alcohol, could see the way the muscles in her back would go taut to withstand the stinging pain. 

Akemi began moving her fingers again, rubbing firm circles into her clit. Her own touch felt electric now, arousal gathering between her legs, heat coiling in her stomach. She gasped, pressed harder. She pictured the way Mizu would put her hair up after a shower, gathering dark hair into her hands as she held a hairband between her teeth, long fingers taming her waves with practiced movements. One stubborn curl would always fall out of her lazy bun, resting gently against her cheekbone, softening the sharp lines of her features. 

She pressed her lips together, muffling a low moan as her fingers worked faster, feeling the heat in her abdomen build and tighten, encouraging her arousal with quick motions. Her heart pounded, exhaling heavily through her nose as she furrowed her brows, focusing on the feeling. Akemi’s other hand came up to fondle her chest again, tugging roughly at her nipples. She bit her bottom lip, and pictured Mizu sitting cross-legged on their shared couch, face painted in a pretty red flush as she politely listened to Akemi talk about her depressing sex life. 

Fun. Mizu’s dangerous grin, plush pink lips curling around the word. Akemi gasped, knees buckled as her release hit her like a freight train, her hand on her chest flying out to steady herself against the wall of the shower. Her fingers moved frantically as waves of pleasure rocked through her body, slick wetness covering her hand and the inside of her shaking thighs, mind going pleasantly fuzzy and momentarily, blessedly empty. Akemi’s fingers slowed as her orgasm did, and she panted under the hot water. 

Icy white panic shot through her chest as she realized what she just did. A fast, fucking powerful orgasm as she thought about her roommate. Fuck, she’s going to be so awkward around Mizu now, isn’t she?

She finished her shower, quickly soaping and rinsing her body as she caught her breath and slowed her heartbeat. Turning off the water, she stepped out of the tub and wrapped herself in a towel and wiped the condensation off the bathroom mirror. When she looked at her reflection, still dripping, breathing unevenly, she felt new, raw, different. 

“Oh my god, am I gay?”

[issacballsac]

“Being Best-friends with Dante Sparda„

Being a son of Sparda doesn’t mean he doesn’t have time to fool around with you ! Gender neutral human reader

Teenage Years | DMC3

Being the massive flirt he is he’ll most likely try and flirt with you upon meeting

Seeing as his twin brother is currently trying to kill him and take his necklace he’ll keep your first conversation short and leave you with his number

After literal Hell on Earth he’ll remember to give you a call

Y’all click instantly…he’s also just a really easy person to get along with but we’ll just ignore that

Now we all know he STAYS broke so either you pay for a meal or y’all are taking a walk in the park somewhere

Getting him to actually talk about himself is pretty difficult

Give him space and he’ll open up about deeper things in his life eventually especially things that concern his demon half(brother, childhood, etc.)

He does enjoy throwing compliments everywhere so expect daily words of praise whether it be sarcastic, goofy, exaggerated, or sincere praise

If you like to compliment as well it’ll be like the most sickening bromance ever

If your still in school DO NOT go to him for homework help

He’ll hype you up for sure but if you need genuine academic help just get a tutor💀

Would be genuinely upset if you made a joke regarding his white hair bro would get hella moody and claim you aren’t friends anymore

If you have a part time job you can BET he’s gonna ask for some bread

Not exactly outright but he’ll allude to it like..

“You remember all the damage those demon guys did to my shop? Yeah…it’s gonna cost A TON to repair it by myself…”

“Are you hungry? Well I heard about this new pizza spot that WE should totally tryout 😁.”

If you like to make clothes/jewelry/accessories he’ll totally wear it

Refuses to let you mess with his hair until like two years into knowing each other

Takes pride in his looks and you should too! Self care! Ofc you’re paying for any and all expenses🫶

Glorified sugar daddy😭

If you live with your parents…so does he

Congratulations you have a new brother 🩰

If you don’t he’ll offer to be roommates so he can get a cheaper rent

You’ll definitely meet Lady she is absolutely appalled at how you tolerate him constantly sarcastically ofc she knows he’s a good guy

If you’re into video games he’ll play with you granted he doesn’t have the money to pay for a game console so it’ll be on whatever console you have

Once he’s in your life he’s never leaving literally.

A best-friend for a lifetime

Adult Years

He probably saved you from some demons

Like if you met him in his teenage year he’d def start flirting

What can I say he stays true to himself

His personality would never change regardless of his aging

Still the same wacky woohoo pizza man we know and love

Thinks you look hot and invites you on a date which quickly just turns into a hangout after the LACK of romance

Still finds hanging with you to be fun and keeps a friendship

Even after establishing a friendship he still flirts here and there—force of habit

Would definitely teach you how to ride a motorcycle if you didn’t already know

More willing to let you mess with his hair

Like put it in pigtails or tie it up/braid it

Introduced you to the whole DMC gang

Now depending on the time period he’ll tell you about Vergil and his upbringing

He would totally tell you all about it after the events of DMC5 after he returns ofc!

I feel like he’s an animal guy so if you have any pets they’re now his pets too

Co-parenting core🩰

If you’re an artist he’ll be your muse/reference material any day

Loves the attention

Drunk dance nights

Karaoke too he doesn’t have the best singing voice but it’s not the worst

Since he’s a devil hunter he goes on missions a lot and seeing as you don’t want to get your shit rocked you stay behind

Cherishes every moment spent together and will make sure you know that

You always take him with you on vacations

How could you not???

He appreciates if you chip in helping him pay off his MASSIVE FUCKING DEBT

He doesn’t expect you to though

Despite being broke he stays stylish and if you asked would help you with fashion

Ofc he isn’t like BIG on fashion but cmon have you seen his looks? He dabbles

Immediately sees you after missions and starts ranting about the entire thing

“Can you believe it?! So obviously I shot that nasty bitch and it had the nerve to explode all over my jacket! It died so I can’t even get it to pay for a new one!”

“Don’t worry about why I smell like this worry about the fact that Trish totally took MY commission!”

Very dramatic but laid back too if that makes sense

Calls you cheesy nicknames that I will not elaborate on use your imagination 🗣️🫶

Enjoys live music and will go with you to concerts if you like

Shows you his demon form if you’re interested

Whatever your hobby is he’ll be interested

Would make sure nothing ever bad happened to you regarding devils ofc

Best bros for life and in death🫡