#he's so strong I forget and then get violently reminded

[perpetuallyboo]

Listen, I love all of Charlie’s art, artists are so incredibly talented- BUT I SWEAR TO FUCK IF I SEE ONE MORE ART OF CHARLIE AS SOME NERDY TWINK IM GONNA LOSE IT Yes, yes, he’s still very much a nerd, but this nerd is jacked. Mans has been doing parkour his entire life and was on a professional swim team- HE FULLY PICKED UP WILBUR AND CASUALLY WALKED AROUND WITH HIM IN HIS ARMS-  CHARLIE IS ABOUT 5″10 AND WILBUR IS 6″5

I LOVE ALL OF CHARLIE’S ART BUT I NEED TO SEE MORE OF BUFF CHARLIE BEING DRAWN. 

[batwritings]

Alright, picture this. The reader’s a complete pest to 141, but Ghost in particular. Nothing too serious- but they’re always stealing stuff and messing with Ghost. Think Rouge and Knuckles from sonic.

They’re enemies, no doubt about it, but they don’t exactly hate each other. Eventually, one thing leads to another, and Ghost teaches them a lesson. But, not that the reader’s complaining..

Maybe he keeps her alive as his trophy wife, or something? I don’t know why, but the thought of him turning a villain into a pretty little homemaker drives me FERAL

-Hybrid

I CANNOT EXPRESS ENOUGH HOW FOND I'VE BECOME OF THE ENEMIES TO LOVERS TROPE-- Enjoy!~

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You were chopping up vegetables when you heard the door shut rather violently. All of your instincts from years on the run kicked in, and you crept around the corner with your knife in hand. "That better be you Simon Riley," you barked into the darkness of your living room.

"Who the hell else lives here?" Simon growls back, clearly not in the mood to be snapped at. You breathe a heavy sigh as his mask comes into view by the low light of the kitchen. "Put the knife down, it's been too long of a day."

"Well unfortunately for you," you say, swaying your hips as you saunter back to your cutting board. "I need this knife for finishing dinner. Go get your eye shadow off and I'll have a hot cuppa ready for you when you're done."

"Cheeky little thing today you are," Simon mumbles before lumbering off to do as you asked. You made the best tea for him, that was something he'd certainly give you. "Reminds me of when we first met."

You shiver a little at the memories that bubble up when he says that. You could vividly remember those hands pinning you to the brick wall of the building behind you when Ghost finally caught up to you. You'd been tormenting him and his little squad for months, batting your eyelashes with coy smiles and blown kisses as you escaped his grasp time and time again.

"You are such a fucking tease you know that?" he'd growled when he finally had you pinned. You gasped a little as his strong hands pulled your pants and underwear down in one smooth motion so they pooled around your ankles. The fact that you couldn't see what he was doing and roughly he was handling you had your cunt absolutely dripping. "Time you learned a lesson."

His words were dark as you felt him use the slick leaking from your slit to lube up his cock. A gloved hand covered your mouth as you moaned out when he entered you. "See sweetheart, that mouth of yours has such better uses than talking," he rumbled, a quiet groan escaping him.

The sex was rough and fast, something you'd never forget. You could practically feel his thick member pounding away at your cunt over and over when the high-pitched whistling of the tea kettle caught your attention. You shook your head as you rushed to take it off the heat, pouring it into the mug you'd set up for Simon.

A set of hands on your hips made you nearly jump out of your skin as the light stubble of your lover's chin rested against your shoulder. "Daydreaming again are we?" He hums, clearly very amused. "If you needed me to manhandle you again, all you had to do was ask love."

You bit your lip and rubbed your thighs together as his hands traveled up your waist and over your breasts, squeezing gently. "L-let me at least finish dinner first," you whine, gasping a little when his thumbs easily unhook your bra from it's clasp in the front.

"The appetizer can wait. I want the main course now."

[hwanghyunjinenthusiast]

[21:32]

Heads up: Lee Seokmin x Fem! Reader, dirty talk, unprotected piv sex, hair pulling (f. receiving), me pushing my big dick! Seokmin agenda, petnames, voice kink if you squint, manhandling of sorts and spanking (f. receiving).

I will block you if you are a minor and have no easily visible indication of your age on your blog if you interact with me in any way.

Seokmin has always had pretty solid self-control. Whether it exists from his want to ensure you're always taken care of first before he indulges in his own pleasure or, some deep-seated, albeit misplaced, desire not to hurt you should he lose said self-control.

It's sweet, really it is. How careful he still is when sinks into you or kneads your breasts so that it's not too harsh for you or how he slowly pushes his pretty, long fingers into you when he laps at your clit.

However, it's just too much fun to push that ironclad self-control of his to its limits.

"I- baby wait," Seokmin heaves behind you. His enormous hands grip your hips tightly, not tight enough to bruise, of course, but still with enough pressure that they still you.

You're well-aware of what you're doing when you look at him over your shoulder with a pout, "Seokmin," you whine, your eyes fluttering shut briefly when his girthy cock twitches inside of your slick walls, "Why? You feel so good. I want you to move."

The way his jaw clenches prompts your pussy to do the same. More of your wetness coating him and, leaking onto your inner thighs. The man who's behind you right now with his inky hair that sticks to his sweaty forehead and, barely restrained stormy eyes is a far cry from your typically adorable Seokmin. Anticipation prods at your gut, white hot and instantaneous.

"I know, baby. I'm sorry, I'm just-" his words are left completely swallowed by the choked moans that leave his pretty mouth when you push back onto him. Your ass kissing his hips when his cock is fully sheathed inside of you again. This time, your eyes flutter shut fully. Your fingernails clawing at your sheets from him deeply he's nestled inside of you. The stretch causes your thighs to quiver violently, and your answering whimpers join his pitchy moans.

A sharp gasp flies from your lips when one of his hands comes down hard and fast on your ass. The sting brings tears to your eyes, and your walls grip him like a vice. Seeming determined to never let him leave.

"You always go too fucking far" he grits out, dragging his cock along your walls until his fat tip is all that's inside of you before slamming back into in time with another heavy spank to your ass. This time, the tears roll down your heated face freely. Your mewls echo throughout your bedroom along with the lewd squelching of him thrusting into your poor, poor pussy.

"Never fucking know when to stop," he continues, his typically soft voice having dropped significantly in octaves and that just worsens the heat coiling in your core. You're already too far gone to think of responding to him. "Always trying to get a rise out of me," he mutters, weaving his hand into your hair and tugging you up until his breath hits the shell of your ear.

"This is what you wanted, right?" He groans into your ear as he thrusts into you particularly harshly, "For me to fuck this pretty pussy of yours until you feel me for days, right?"

"Seok- Minnie," is all your hazy mind can supply in response. Everything feels so overwhelming but, oh so good that you can't think of anything but, his massive cock shaping you around him and his stinging grasp in your hair.

His laugh is nothing like the sunshiney one that always brings a smile to your face, "Don't worry, baby. I've got you. Gonna fuck you until you're full of my cum."

You're not sure whether that's a promise or a threat but, you're not complaining in the slightest.

You sometimes forget how strong Seokmin is because of how gentle he is with you all the time. You're reminded of that fact when he shoves your face into one of your pillows at breakneck speed, his heavy hand pressed between your shoulders.

"You should see how your pussy looks swallowing my cock," he moans out, his other hand kneading the flesh of one of your ass cheeks as he presumably becomes enamoured with the sight of himself splitting you open, glistening with your wetness.

"It'll look even better with my cum dribbling out of it."

AN: Me? Writing more dominant DK? Who am I? Anyways, tagging my favourite kwiyeomdongmoim @onlyseokmins because it's the law and also *evil laughter.* Thank you for all the inspiration, Elv <3

Reblogs are greatly appreciated.

Do not repost, edit, copy and/or translate my work. I do not give you my permission to do so, nor will you ever receive it.

[amuseoffyre]

@triflesandparsnips made a rather spiffy observation on my post about Ed and face-touching:

It may be worthwhile, considering how much face/mouth violence Ed is sensitive to -- and when we see or hear about it -- to do a review of how much of that face sensitivity is also associated with food and eating.

And hooboy, I ended up down a rabbithole thinking about Ed and food and it got so long, it earned itself its own little post.

These are all the food/eating related moments that tie in directly to Ed having strong emotional responses. I didn't limit it to just the face-touching because there's a lot of emotional mess going on as well.

When Stede wakes him for brekkie in 1x04, he recoils immediately as he wakes, until he realises who's beside him (especially pertinent since Ed wakes in 2x03 and asks if anything was done to him while he was unconscious - he even anticipates harm while sleeping).

in 1x05, when he's being taught the intricacies of dining and the French captain slaps on his big red trauma button while he's sitting at a dining table and already feeling out of his depth with all the tablewear.

Cut to the flashback in 1x05 which has him and his mum talking quietly in one part of the room, but his father is there, slumped and drunk on the family dining table, setting the domestic sphere as a place of constant present threat.

Later in 1x05, when he's alone at the party, he's freaking out over not knowing how to deal with this kind of fancy-folk dining and then someone touches his face - double-whammy of the emotional stuff and the physical.

1x06 gives us the main flashback to his childhood and his father's violent reaction to 'slop' and 1x07 has stressed, out-of-his-comfort-zone hangry Ed, trying desperately to keep up the Blackbeard appearance ("Blackbeard can't be seen treasure hunting!") and again, something touches his body/head unexpectedly and he lashes out defensively.

There is so much going on in the brekkie scene that I can't even get into it here. Ed trying to code-switch between the way he interacts with Stede and Jack respectively, but most significantly, when Jack talks over him and ignores him trying to change the subject about violence he's done in the past, Ed shrinks down in the chair, doing the small-and-quiet thing he does when he's unhappy (one day I will yell about Ed taking refuge surrounding himself with gold/yellow things - blankets, chairs, robes, pillowforts. His version of the battle jacket).

1x10 has several moments. First is the marmalade - there's something child-like about the blanket fort and eating sweet sticky things with his fingers, taking comfort in food and hiding.

The second is something that is viscerally explained in S2 - when he forcefeeds Izzy his own toe. The contrast of the brutality and the very paternal "now don't forget to chew" like an adult talking to a child gave me chills the first time I watched it.

The last thing in 1x10 isn't necessarily food, but hooooboy there is something in the way he sets himself up at what was Stede's brekkie table, putting on the worst of personas possible, that is very much reminding me of his dad at the table in a bare, empty home, lit by a single candle, in that first flashback.

And now, into S2, and our man starts things in a totally healthy and normal way - eating the cake with his weapon. And, more importantly, "did everybody get cake?" Again, we have the juxtaposition of implicitly care-taking language against the surrounding violence and brutality.

The gravy basket tells us so much as well - he wakes up to the horror of being vulnerable, trapped by his own body and force-fed by someone who we learn had a habit of forcefeeding live crabs to people and who had threatened to flay Ed's skin off and feed it to him. He's rightfully afraid that anything Hornigold feeds him might be poisoned.

Once again, we have the parental energy of "open up for the cargo ship" tangled up with the fear of threat and violence and horror - poisoning, flaying and force-feeding.

Ed's fear has the two utterly bound up together, inescapably so. His father shaped his childhood and Hornigold stepped into that role when Ed became an outlaw.

But even in this messy and horrifying confrontation with his own psyche and layered up with the horrors he's lived through as a boy, some part of Ed still desperately wants the comfort and security of food and home, especially when the food his subconscious is gathering for him are the ingredients for Māori boil-up, something his mother would very likely have made for them.

It speaks measures that the three things he wants to live for include good food and warmth and orgasms. No fame. No glory. No reputation. Just to be loved and safe and warm and fed.

Jump forward to 2x04 and dinner with Bonny and Read. Ed is unsurprised by the degree of violence happening throughout, but does hesitate when poison comes into the equation - "I got the present you left for me in my glass" - Ed immediately sets down his glass, staring at it warily. Again, calling back to the Gravy Basket and his fear that anything given to him might be poisoned.

He's already on edge and off-balance - "not sure what's real and what's the basket" and there may or may not be poison and knives and the person he trusted may or may not betray him again and he's already spinning out when Anne - who had already declared her intention to provoke Ed and Mary - cheerfully lands the bombshell of why Stede left him.

No small wonder he storms out of the room, but it does lead to them having a much-needed conversation and he and Stede are on a much steadier footing after.

And then, of course, we have the breakfast of 2x07. This one is especially significant because Ed makes the brekkie then disposes of his leathers. He's actively trying to step from one mode of life to another, from the Blackbeard-and-Piracy into the domestic, softer life he's been quietly craving his entire life.

Only, as he says himself, "I don't think I've ever made regular breakfast for anyone before". He's trying, but it's something new and unfamiliar to him and it's "my way of saying thank you".

And lastly, we have the scene with the fisherman and his son where Ed has shoe-horned himself into what he thinks is the solution to all his problems and also includes a father-son dynamic, because our man can't do anything without his daddy issues rearing their ugly head.

Once again, Ed is out of his depth, but at the opposite end of the scale from the party ship. This is a place he thinks he should fit but he doesn't. This is the domesticity he craved, but without understanding or appreciating the real work that is needed to get there.

And once again, over a meal, he has an angry father expressing violence. "Control your pop-pop!" he tells the boy who is around the same age as he was when he killed his father. But he doesn't fight back, he doesn't strike out at Pop-pop, and the son steps between them and pulls his dad back several times.

And it's this father-figure's words that ring in Ed's ears when he realises Stede may be in danger. "If you were ever good at anything, do that". And if there's one thing Ed Teach is good at, it's fighting for the people he loves.

In conclusion our Mr. Teach wants a safe and comfortable home-life, with food and warmth (and orgasms), but he has no real experience of what that is really like or how to get it. His entire life has been a succession of threats and danger and men who would do harm to people in their charge, especially when they were unarmed, defenceless and vulnerable.

He doesn't know how to be safe yet, because he's never experienced it. All he's known until this point is a life of violence and danger and while he tried to move away from that, the violence and danger was still there - as Stede put it, there's no escaping it in their line of work.

But now, at the end of S2, for the first time in his life, he is actually able to say "No, I need to be away from piracy" because his whole journey through both seasons has been him trying and trying to step away from the life that has him by the throat.

And now, he's finally been able to do it and he's not alone. He has someone he's safe with and who is willing to do the work with him to help him figure things out. And give him good food, warmth and, of course, orgasms.

[takingthehobbitswhere]

fivefourthree.

Summary: Jason Todd getting feelings for someone he just met. In a flower shop of course.

Word count: ~2840

A/N: Well, well look who finally posted another piece. I am so sorry. Might be sort of character accurate, might not be - all I know is I'm doing this instead of a speech I'm supposed to be writing. Oops.

Warnings: strong hints of spice

jason todd x f!reader

The door had barely creaked open when the bells tied to the entryway alerted you to a new presence. A stifled sneeze made you look up from the bouquet you were cutting, towards a head of curly black hair glowering as he wiped his nose. Keeping him on the edges of your vision, you leaned back down to your flowers as he started to mill about, gently fingering the colorful blooms. After crossing in front of your workspace for what was at least the fourth time you sighed, cleared your throat and spoke. “May I help you?”

The boy spun around, hands in the air, and sauntered over, placing his hands on the counter. “Yes.” He looked at you intently, eyes almost seeming to shift from blue to green and back. “What kind of flowers scream I hate you, and I don’t plan on forgiving or forgetting any time soon?”

You tried to fight a smile as you turned to evaluate your stock, nodding. “Sounds serious. Let’s see what I have here. Ah, petunias, orange lillies, butterfly weed-”

“I’ll take all of them.”

“Do you have an hour?”

The boy looked down at his watch, then up at the flowers, back down, then at you. “Yeah, yeah I got time.”

You hummed in response, already in motion. Choose. Cut. Prepare. Working in near silence, a tinny speaker letting out strains of a somber piano was the only accompaniment. He watched you as ten minutes ticked by before uttering a single word. You had expected him to leave, but you had to admit you appreciated the company.

“How long have you been doing this?” He asked, leaning over the counter.

“Almost four years now. I learned from a older lady in my building when I first moved, and haven’t looked back.”

“Well, your arrangements out front look incredible.”

You looked up, finding him staring at you with something that resembled a smile on his face.

“I'm Jason.”

“[Name].”

Greenery. Focal. Fill. The space filled with silence again, but ever so slowly, over the next forty-five minutes, you found yourself opening up to each other, laughing the most you have in months, telling the safe pieces of your stories, until begrudgingly, it was time to hand off the bouquet. The time, however fleeting, was refreshing. Wrap. Finish.

“Well, here you are.” You pick up the flowers, extending them to Jason, a shy grin on your face as your eyes meet. His fingers brushed your hand, startlingly cold. “I hope whoever’s getting them is properly accursed for their wrongdoing.”

“I’ll make sure to tell my brother that. Just for insurance purposes, I’m going to need your number. Can’t leave you without an update can I?” He grinned cheekily, ripping off a small piece of the bouquet’s wrap paper and slid it across the counter.

With a sigh, you picked up your pen, tapping your chin.

“And collateral, for the allergies,” He whispered.

A small chuckle escaped, and with a flourish, you handed the paper back to him, number, name, and all. “Don’t keep me waiting.”

Almost out the door, bells ringing again, Jason paused, lifting his hand in a wave. “See you tonight!” he called. Before you had a chance to react, he was gone.

It rang through your head the rest of your shift, a reoccurring distraction as you gathered arrangements, watered flowers, and helped customers. A timer rang somewhere in the back, shaking you out of your reverie, a violent reminder to start closing the shop. Finally.

Humid evening air greeted you, clouds parted for the summer evening. The walk home was pleasant for once, the smell of the city no longer trapped in the now-absent layer of grey, the sun’s glow casting a spell on everything it touched. The light framed in your apartment window warmed a spot on the wood floor, and gladly you sunk down, curled into it. The shorter, colder days always came too quickly for your liking. Peace settled into your bones, your eyes growing heavy.

A phone somewhere vibrated. Again. Closer this time. The buzzing danced along the floor til it reached you, waking you up. A hand, your hand, brushed the edge of the vibrating box, yours. Oh. OH. You became alert, fingers scrambling to grab the phone, hoping the call wouldn’t be missed. Unknown number.

“Hello?”

“Hey, this is Jason.”

“Long time, no see.”

“I don’t know if you’re free tonight, but I highly suggest you make it so because I’m inviting you to my favorite dive bar where you can enjoy some live music, my company, and most likely a free drink or two. And if that’s not enough, just know I’m extremely stubborn.” His voice came through tinny, but just enough you could hear the tease in his voice.

A beat passed. You bit your lip. “Okay. Count me in.”

“Great. See you there. Seven.” And with that, he hung up, leaving you once again in silence. Dang. It’s a date.

30 minutes later, you found yourself seated in front of your closet, practically every article of clothing you owned on the floor. By the time you grabbed your keys, you had settled for something slightly more than what you'd usually wear. Your phone buzzed again with an address. It was just a short walk. You weren’t worried. Living in Gotham for almost all your life greatly shifted your classification of dangerous.

The bar was in an older building, dilapidated in a sophisticated sense. You could see the orange glow through the windows, shadows moving about to the light thrum of music. Your nerves stirred in your abdomen, slowly climbing into your throat. Just open the door and step in. Inhale, exhale. In you went. The wood paneled interior gave warmth to the space, various stained glass lights hanging about the space. Booths and few tables decorated the space about the bar, a constant buzz of conversation barely discernible above the live band playing from a corner stage. A saxophone caught your attention, crooning as the drumset hissed in response. Everyone seemed in their own world. Watching the music so closely, you didn't notice the someone coming up behind you until they had placed their hands on your shoulders, bracing as you flinched.

"Hello, [name]," the voice, Jason's, whispered into your ear. A knot forming in your stomach as he barely brushed the back of your hair. Shifting, an arm was slung across your shoulders as he steered you gently towards an empty pair of barstools. Seated, you were able to look him up and down for the first time that night. He had changed, but He looked good. A simple black tee, arms tensed, the rest of his clothes the same.  An appreciative look on his face as he took in what you were wearing.

"So, what'll it be for you two?"

"An old fashioned for me, and for her.."

"Wine. Red, please."

The bartender nodded, drifting to a waving patron, leaving you two staring at the counter. Jason shifted towards you, leaning onto his leg, a conspiratorial gleam in his eye. "Loser of the pool game gets the first round."

So there you were, in a hidden corner away from the din of the bar, lining up your break. It had been awhile since you played a game, and you knew he let you go first to size up his competition. Five, four, three, two, on one you let the cue fly, the chain reaction hitting the triangle of balls into a thousand different directions. A striped ball made its way into the pocket, leaving the cue ball in a compromising position. Huffing, you took a sip of your wine, and leaned, ball ricocheting off the side of the table, knocking into stripes and solids with a clack. His move.

Jason paced around the table until he found an ideal angle, testing his shot, eyes peering through his shaggy hair. With the utmost precision, his target found its way into the same pocket you landed your ball in. Clack, another one off the felt. "What can I say? Beginner's luck."

You bumped him forcefully, rolling your eyes. "In your dreams."

He was always one up on you, an aggravating dance of hope and loss, and the table was looking bare. Focus. A brief moment of consultation opened a possible shot, one you had to take. Practicing with your cue, you stared the no. 13 ball down. Line it up, pull back, and release.. It sailed into the pocket, the cue ball aligned beautifully with another striped one. Jason looked on approvingly as you hit another into the pocket. The eight ball was all that was left. Your cue slipped, scratching the felt, causing you to hit it from the side, barely moving.  Jason's turn. 

Jason's smile was burning through your back; you didn't even have to turn around to know he was already celebrating. Or so you thought until he slipped his arms around yours, adjusting your hands until your shot was perfectly positioned. His breath tickled your ear as he said something about your almost victory. He was steady, still as he played the shot through in his mind. You felt him shift, drawing the cue back, and as you both exhaled, the tension released, the ball rolled neatly into the corner, disappearing from view. Nobody dared move, staring at where the white ball remained. Jason's arms seemed to twitch, tightening around you as he whispered, "I owe you a drink."

Nodding was the only command your brain seemed to transmit as you were released from his grasp, his hands retreating, leaving a trail of goosebumps on your skin. He came back, another drink in hand, another smirk on his face. Giving it to you, he gently grabbed your arm with his free hand, leading you toward the band you saw earlier. The space was hazier, the lights dimmer, and it was harder to keep your balance, even ignoring the wine you had already consumed. His grip transferred to your hand as you approached the throng of dancers, pulling you into it, disappearing into the thick of bodies.

Surfacing in the middle of the mass, fresh air was a welcome commodity amongst the sickly-sweet mix of sweat and alcohol. Jason didn't seem to be perturbed, wholly focused on you, the music swelling back into existence. You stared right back at him, the red lighting bouncing off your surroundings, casting a soft glow on his face, transfixed. His hand extended, and once again, he pulled you, this time into a dance.

Back nestled into his chest, your hand was around his, resting on your hip, his fingers barely brushing under your shirt. A compromising position, but oh, it felt so good. The buzz was starting to hit you, and it heightened everything. Swaying, you fell into rhythm amongst the others around you, a steady pulse from the bass seemingly keeping time to your pounding heart, trying to ignore how he pressed into you, lips floating over your shoulder, the crowd moving around you.

Jason seemed to respond immediately to your growing tenseness, his hands hovering over your skin, forehead leaning into the back of your skull. The song ends right on cue, and in the resulting silence to applause, he turned you around, looking directly into your soul. His tone dips softly as a new riff fills the air. “Are you okay?”

A beat passed, and you finally found the courage to return his gaze. “Yeah- I just needed a moment.” Breathing deep, gathering a smile, normalcy returns. You tugged him into a spin, and in response, he dipped you, a squeal escaping from your throat.

The hours passed in a liquid haze, the end dancing closer and closer, until finally, you stumbled onto the street, the cool air shocking sobriety into your system. A glance was shared through the neon haze, another look, nothing was said, but a conversation, a dialogue, deeper than either of you were aware, had just begun.

Fingers slipped through yours, drawing you in a direction you didn’t want to go. Your place was closer. Your place was safer. Let’s go there. A gentle pull from you was all that was needed, and there you stood, in front of your door. No memory was formed of entering the building, standing in the elevator, walking down the hall, but none was needed. He was here, in front of you, and that was all that mattered; the quiet want in his eyes as he crept closer and closer, the struggle with the door handle as he pressed his lips to yours, the tumble into the entryway as the door gave, and the catch as his hands stabilized your bodies against the nearest wall.

The hunger built, space was no longer a concept. One of you ended where the other began, feeding into each other, caresses turning to grabs, mumbles turning into gasps, never staying in one place for long. The agony, the ecstasy of it all. A single thought lingered, questioning the sanity of this decision, but you pushed it back, trapped it in a box, and simply gave in.

Coming up for air, chests heaving, you had tucked into Jason’s arm, oblivious as he slowly surveyed your apartment, taking in the 400 foot studio you called home, warm light filling every inch of the space from a corner lamp, a portable chess set on a nearby table. It wasn’t much, but he could tell you had poured your heart into making it comfortable, safe. It was an abrupt, welcome change of scene from what the man laying beside you knew. This could be his safe place.

Your breath evened out, and he just listened, occasionally shifting his gaze to your figure, back to the ceiling, reaching out to trace a path down your sheets. With his heart keeping steady, with the rhythm of your inhales, he felt his eyes growing heavy for the first time in a long, long time.

Jason shot upright, head pounding, struggling to focus in on the unfamiliar room around him. Oh. His eyes shot to where you lay, peaceful and still, relieved the outburst was ineffective. What am I doing here? Shifting to the edge of the bed, he ran his hands through his hair, exhaling firmly, forcing himself to reprocess the events of yesterday. Maybe he was flirting with this girl, maybe he saw a friend, but all Jason knew was he didn’t know what he needed. Not a relationship. Anything, anything, but that. He dared to look back at you again. You would hurt and suffer for his actions, and that would be irreparable.

With practiced stealth, he picked up his scattered clothes and slipped them on, not daring to use the bathroom, minimizing his presence. He hoped you would forgive him. Then forget. That was best. Cramming on his shoes, he took one last look at the space he would think about for many more nights in the next sequence of life and quietly closed the door behind him.

The boy’s mind was already whirring, solving the next problem before it could happen. The entire house would ride his ass for this. He was sure he looked ridiculous, for sure jogging back to his car. And running up his front steps. And trying to inconspicuously unlock the side door. He was halfway to his room when-

“Jason!”

As slow as humanly possible, he turned around, peering over the stair rail at a one, very interested Dick Grayson.

“Dude, did you actually hang out with a girl? Wait ‘til Bruce gets a load of this.”

Before Dick could take another step, Jason was flying down the stairs, grabbing his shoulders, staring him dead in the eyes. “Do not mention this to anybody. I know where you sleep.”

“Master Jason, you’re home-” Alfred stops in his tracks, analyzing the situation before him, deciding a simple nod and a dismissive bow would be sufficient for pretending he never set eyes on the situation in the first place.

Waiting until Alfred finished rounding the corner, Jason finally let go of his brother, firmly dusting Dick’s shoulders. “Sorry.”

Dick sighed, looking at him suspiciously. “I won’t let it slip if you tell me the details of your outing. Scout’s honor.”

“That’s– illegitimate. You? A boy scout?”

“Ha, ha. Very funny. Okay, I’ve changed my terms. Just make me a sandwich.”

“Fine.”

Dinner that night proceeded to be filled with Dick offhandedly chuckling to himself while everyone just offered questioning looks at Jason, afraid to ask. The scraping of cutlery was the only noise in the dining room, as he ignored them, stuffing another bite of chicken into his mouth. Every so often, a lighthearted comment was exchanged, but his heart wasn’t in it. All he kept coming back to was you as he stared at the bouquet on the table. His mind had convinced himself you would be fine, but his heart was telling him otherwise.

He knew he had to see you again.

[ghouljams]

Ohmygod i have an obsession w price n witchhh!!! In my head after the events of tapped price comes back w his metaphorical tail between his legs bc before witch's wards kicked him out, she looked at him!! And was like price? And he def realised that she trusted him so much in that moment liek her instinct was to look at him bc she cannot believe he would let something hurt her let something of his (gaz) hurt her, not to deal w gaz or the fae magic, yk?? He def feels as awful as he can bc she trusted him and im making my own heart ache rn

It is genuinely so rrrrrrrrrr I am feral about that one moment in particular, because you're hitting the nail on the head. She trusted him, trusted that he wouldn't bring anyone/anything to her that would hurt her, trusted that he was looking out for her, and he gets that moment of his Witch's trust being shattered before he's forced out. That single "Price?" is a "How could you let this happen?" And it fucking kills him.

Price doesn't come by to see you for days. A week passes, then another, with his nose in his work. He can't face you, can't get your wide eyed shock out of his head, the bright crimson of your blood as it dripped from your nose. He can't shake the lingering ache of your magic in his bones, still working off Gaz's accidental curse. How could one mistake shake him so badly? Nothing shakes him.

Still, when his feet carry him down the familiar path to your garden he flinches at your sunshine. The overgrown garden that once seemed so comfortable now seems to only remind him of his failure. He stays in the treeline, watches you hum as you tend to your plants. You wipe the sweat from your forehead and roll your shoulders back, alive and well.

Why can't he forget the way you'd clung to him? His heart clenches in his chest each time he remembers the way you'd sagged against him, unable to keep yourself up any longer. It was the first time in a long time your wards had bit their thorns into him, distrustful and violent. You'd said his name like a plea for answers he didn't have, and it haunted him. How could he let this happen? How could he bring pain into your house? How could he stay away so long, avoiding you like the plague? A stern reminder of his own shortcomings.

You look towards your garden gate with eyes full of longing, something soft and sad dragging your brows together. Price steels himself to make his way towards your garden, then turns and leaves. He can face the court and all its dangers, but one witch turns him into a coward.

He makes sure to get to your garden wall before you come out the next day. Somehow that feels easier. The thought that you might look out your window and choose to ignore him sticks like a knife between his ribs, but it's better than having to approach you. When you do come out you're struggling with a tea tray, keeping the door open with your hip as you maneuver the delicate set out of your house. Price pushes off the wall.

"Let me help," He offers.

"No," you snap too quickly, "No, I'm- the wards are still all out of whack." Your explanation is almost as bad as your denial. He can feel the hum of your magic, the barrier as strong and friendly to him as ever, not a hair out of place. The wards are almost apologetic, not that Price holds it against them for doing their job. No. It's you, your expression is kind but your eyes are unsure.

You carry yourself like you did ages ago, like you don't trust him. Kind, not friendly.

Price swallows down his pride, and keeps out of your way as you set up tea on your garden wall. You set a steaming mug of spiced wine in front of him. It smells like an apology. What do you have to apologize for?

"Sweetheart," Price picks up the mug, his fingers tight on the rim of it, you hum questioningly, "you wouldn't be thinkin' of sayin' sorry for something, would you?" You pause your fussing with the precarious placement of your plate of cookies.

"Of course not," You don't look at him, "but if I was-"

"You shouldn't," Price cuts you off. He sips his mug as you fidget --he's never seen you do that-- it makes his stomach twist unpleasantly. "I would've made the same call," he assures you.

"You wouldn't have let it happen in the first place," You tell him, "I shouldn't have-" You cut yourself off, staring at your tea. Shouldn't have trusted him, Price thinks.

"I should have stopped him," he tells you.

"Is that why you haven't come to see me?" Your voice is so soft, and so god damned perceptive. The way you look at him makes his heart stop, like you can see straight through him. You'd make an excellent creditor if you ever wanted a career change, leading him exactly where you want him.

"Yes," Price admits. Your guard melts away, smile softening just for him. You could take a man's breath away looking at him like that.

"Stop that," You break a piece off one of the cookies with an air of finality, "you'll just have to find some other way to make it up to me."

"I'll think of something," He murmurs into his mug. He'd spend the rest of his life making it up to you if you'd let him. For now he contents himself with your small smile, an olive branch that what's broken can be repaired. If it ever was broken in the first place.

[kneelingshadowsalome]

What if Konig accidentally scared the reader?

Like they were having small disagreement when he raised his hand to touch his face - and the reader flinched at that?

I can imagine him getting flashbacks to his father and how he used to treat his mother. He would feel so bad :(. Like, 'Does she think I'll hurt her? Is she scared of me? What if I do end up like my father?' And have a mini breakdown.

But from the reader's POV, she wasn't really "scared" of him. She just saw movements from the corner of her eye, and her body reacted for her.

Sorry not sorry for the angst ‼️🥰

I’m going to answer these two together because they kind of interlap!

CW: sexism, toxic König, light angst, a dash of fluff

Ooh this kind of behavior would remind him of his mother and only amp up König’s protectiveness for sure! I can’t stress it enough that the more his woman needs him, the better König feels about himself. It’s his life’s purpose to take care of his companion (so much so that this caretaking gains manipulative, stalkish and possessive elements...)

Truth be told, he would view this kind of behavior as you being helpless. And helpless creatures draw him in. König very much has a thing for helpless women. Actually, he thinks it's only natural for a woman to behave like that! His motivation to shield, guard and protect is founded on the need to make himself feel strong and capable (or masculine, if you want to put it that way).

You're scared? He will protect and console you, whatever it is. The more jumpy you are, the more it fires up his protectiveness. This guy wants to be the hero who saves your day. He will do anything in his power to drive your fears away.

You're clingy? Boy, you just gave a starving dog a fat bone! The more clingy you are, the happier König is. (Then he can pretend it’s you who needs him and not the other way around.) It soothes him when you're needy and desperate for him and his company. He will always be there for you, don’t worry ❤️

You forget things and stuff? König will go and fetch that shirt you forgot, even if it's miles away. He will say you should go and rest for a while if you spilled some water on the counter. In fact, he orders you to go and sit down while he cleans it up. He doesn't normally do house chores and cleaning but hey – his woman has clearly just exerted herself so of course he'll help.

And about arguments: during an argument König would be quite calm, actually? He would rarely even raise his voice with you. He's simply that sure of himself and of knowing what's "best for you". You can have your little fits and he might entertain you by giving you what you want if it's something insignificant, but otherwise, he knows he will have the last say if you disagree on something major.

The only thing that would make König lose it with you is probably the cheating scenario discussed earlier... He would be so broken, it would fuck him up so completely that there would be no redemption for him anymore. His violence might bleed into this relationship and manifest as emotional abuse, perhaps verbal abuse, too. He would go outside occasionally to let out some steam (wreck something) but even then, he would not touch you in anger.

If you flinched as an involuntary reaction to his touch during whatever argument you were having... yes he would have a minor breakdown. Flashbacks to his abusive father: definitely. König would apologize if he has been too rough with you. He knows his size and that he’s violent as fuck.

He sometimes wants to squeeze you a little too hard, gives you bitemarks when you two are having sex, he wants to hear those helpless sounds you make when he’s inside you... He wants to own, no, possess you. But he doesn’t want to see you hurt or scared (well, that's what he tells himself, even if you might suffer from his controlling behavior). There's a tug of war inside him: between the need to protect those few he cares about and the need to just annihilate the whole world that has made him suffer.

The last thing König wants is to become a replica of his father. That’s why women get treated differently, like they’re delicate flowers (because König is in fact scared of himself and that he might hurt them), and that’s why his woman will be protected and sheltered and taken care of. At all costs. She will never suffer the same abuse his mother did.

(Yes, König will only, um. Abuse you differently? Aaargh!)

[gatorbites-imagines]

hello!! i was wondering if i could request a thing where it's either evan macmillan, jason vorhees or bubba sawyer and they bottom for the first time? thanks :) (reader is just around average height, is not all that strong and is more caring to them)

Evan Macmillan, Jason Voorhees, and Bubba Sawyer

Headcanons

Evan Macmillan

-          Evan would be the most cautious about bottoming for the first time. I think part of his brain thinks its not something he should do, like its something bad, but he sees how much you enjoy it, so he wants to give it a try.

-          It would take a long time to have him prepped, as he keeps tensing up and you have to comfort and kiss him. You also reassure him he really doesn’t have to do this if he doesn’t want too. He would say he does want to, he’s just scared.

-          As you can imagine the first time with Evan is very slow and careful, especially since he’s bigger than you in height and width and he’s much stronger than you.

-          Evan gives a violent jolt the first time you touch his prostate, and he almost forgets how to breathe, so of course you make sure to hit it from then on out to hear him whimper and cry.

-          At the end of the night, Evan will ride you at least once after he’s grown more comfortable and surer of himself. He has very powerful thighs so you can assume you’ll be ridden into exhaustion.

-          The two of you will a sweaty cuddly mess when the night is over, and he will end up quietly admitting he really likes it and would want to do it again.

 Jason Voorhees

-          Jason would be kinda scared of the idea of bottoming, but he’s always been very careful with you when the two of you are together, so he is willing to give it a try, as long as you are careful.

-          Jason learns he really likes when you finger him or eat him out, it has him humping his sheets and whimpering. Since he doesn’t make much noise in general I don’t think Jason moans a lot, so choked off groans and whimpers is the best you’ll get.

-          Please be careful with him, slowly work him open and praise him when you’re doing it. He will melt into a puddle, his hips twitching back into your hand as he tries to get more of the wonderful feeling.

-          He would want to do it doggystyle the first time since he’s heard it’s the easiest for the first time, but at some point, he will find himself on his back, his legs around your hips and you thrusting into him.

-          Jason will definitely wrap his arms around you, but he has to remind himself to be careful since he is a lot stronger than you and he doesn’t want to hurt you. Loves when you make hickeys all over his neck and shoulders.

-          He would want you to cum inside of him, because it makes him feel closer to you and he likes how full he feels as well.

 Bubba Sawyer

-          Bubba wouldn’t have much of a problem with bottoming, I just don’t think it’s come up until then. He’s never really thought about it, but he would like to try.

-          He’s a lover, so you can expect him to want to kiss the entire time. Even when you’re stretching him open, he would want to kiss or touch you in one way or another. Please praise him, it makes him melt.

-          Bubba would adjust quicker than Evan or Jason, again because I don’t think he sees anything shameful of anything to fear from bottoming. As long as your both having fun nothing else matters.

-          Bubba is very embarrassed about the noises he would make when you touch his prostate, he would cover his face and blush. You would have to carefully remove his hands from his face and tell him its okay and its actually very flattering he’s so into it.

-          He would want to do it missionary, at least the first time so you can look at each other and kiss and so he can hold you close. Bubba might also try to ride you but he’s so worried of accidentally squashing you that it ends up with him just holding himself up as you thrust up into him.

-          Bubba wants all the cuddles afterwards, please hold him and run your hand through his hair, he will preen under your attention and cuddle you real close.

[feralfather]

If you're taking requests, could I have something with Spider being manhandled by the recoms and Quaritch? Like, he's literally just being carried around over Quaritch's shoulder bc he wouldn't go when he was told to, or he's just held in the air until he tires himself out when he's trying to attack them, etc. Just the recoms taking advantage of their size and Spider being about as effective as an actual child against them (hopefully inspiring some Dad!Quaritch feels as well?) Sorry if this is too detailed!

Oh yes yes yes! I accept requests! I love it!

If there’s one thing Spider got from his father, it was his stubbornness and anger… definitely his anger. That boy could blow up like a grease fire when provoked; try and douse it out with water, and it’ll only grow. You have to smother it.

Now, that isn’t to say Quaritch actually smothers the boy whenever he gets mad. He wouldn’t never.

No, instead he’s found it easier to snatch the kid up by his armpits and hold him at arms length while he screams curses and tries to punch and kick Quaritch in the chest. He learnt the hard way not to hold him close, after receiving a hearty kick to the chest, resulting in Spider rocketing himself backwards out of his grip and onto the floor, nearly giving the Quaritch a heart-attack while the other Recoms burst into laughter. Sometimes it was easy to forget how strong Spider was, but his bruised chest left him with a reminder of that strength for the following week.

Even if he had scolded Spider’s ear off for it, he couldn’t help but feel pride at the boy’s strength. He’d never say any of this, of course. He didn’t want to encourage Spider’s violent behavior towards him… but it made Miles feel better to know his son could wipe the floor with anyone who made the mistake of thinking he was an easy target.

And if Spider could bruise a Na’vi, he could only imagine the damage that kid could do to another Human with a single kick.

Maybe he should be more concerned with the amount of anger Spider seems to fall in, but he had his fair share of anger issues in his youth, and still does, so when someone pushes Spider’s buttons a little too much, Miles isn’t too hard on the kid when he blows up.

But none of this matters, as currently Miles is dealing with a different kind of situation. This isn’t angry Spider, this is stubborn Spider.

Z-Dog had been messing with the kid all day as they traversed through the jungle, like the absolute child she is, and Miles could only roll his eyes at the immaturity of it all. They taunted, poked, and argued with each other like children.

Spider eventually got fed up with her, and planted himself defiantly on the next large root they passed.

Miles had an ear tilted back towards the kid, so when he heard the crackling of Z-Dog’s laughter, he expected his kid to snap something back, but was met with resounding silence.

Brows furrowed, he turns his head to make sure he was alright, only to come to a halt at the sight of Spider sitting grumpily on a root, arms crossed over his chest, and Z-Dog bent over and snickering at his expression as she popped a bubble in his face. The rest of his squad paused at the sound of Miles’ growl.

“Zdinarsk!” Miles snapped, causing her to shoot up and snap to attention, looking like she got caught doing something she shouldn’t have. “The hell happened?” He continued as he quickly walked over to the two, frowning as he scanned Spider for any injury.

Z-Dog tried to keep a straight face. “He refuses to move.”

Miles couldn’t see anything wrong, but his tail still lashed in worry as he leans down to place a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “You hurt?”

Spider only huffed, giving Zdinarsk a side-eyed glare. “No, she’s being a stupid butthole!”

Miles deadpans at the boy, ear twitching at the sound of Z-Dog’s snort of laughter. “Whatever you say, Tarzan.”

“I don’t even know who that is!” Spider snaps back, snarling up at the woman, who only popped another bubble at him.

Quaritch finally blinked, letting out a harsh sigh. “You’ve gotta be shitting me- alright, enough! Both of you!” He scolds them, letting his hand slip from Spider’s shoulder as he stood. “Get up.” He orders the kid, motioning for him to stand.

The boy only sneered and shook his head. “Not until she leaves me the fuck alone!”

Miles took a deep breath in through his nose. Lord, give him patience. “Zdinarsk, go bother Lopez.”

Said marine perked his ears. “What? Why me?!” He protested.

He was ignored.

“Yes, sir.” Z-Dog salutes.

“Liar!” Spider hissed, puffing up when she sticks her tongue out at him.

“What did I just say?” Miles growls, to which Zdinarsk raised her hands in surrender before leaving to pester someone else. He turns back to Spider. “There, now get up. We gotta get a move on before we run out of daylight.”

Spider didn’t move, still not convinced Z-Dog wouldn’t bug him again the moment they start moving again.

“Spider. Don’t test me, boy.” He threatens, eyes narrowing and a stern frown in place as his tail flicked in agitation.

The boy didn’t budge.

Lyle made his way over. “Maybe we should set up camp, night will be on us in a few hours.” He tries to pacify, but Quaritch only hissed as Spider side-eyed them.

“No. I ain’t givin’ in to this tantrum. We’re moving.”

With that, he swooped down and snatched Spider up before the boy could properly react, throwing him over his shoulder as he strides forward back to the front of the squad. He held tightly onto the back of Spider’s legs and ignored the kid’s hissing, cursing, wiggling, and kicking as best he could. He also ignored the other’s snickering coming from behind him.

It took about half an hour, but Spider finally tired himself out enough to allow Miles to slightly loosen his grip on his legs, and the boy rag-dolled against his back, head pressed into Miles’ vest and arms dangling in defeat as he tried to catch his breath.

… With Spider calm and not fighting him, Miles began to feel a light feeling building in his chest, like the weight of the word was slipped from his shoulders and replaced with the comforting weight of his son… he didn’t want the feeling to leave. It felt.. nice, oddly enough.

They carried on like this until Spider grew bored.

Quaritch jolted slightly when little fingers brushed against his tail, causing it to lash away from the touch. He clears his throat as some of the others chuckled. “The hell you doin’, kid?”

“I’m bored. Put me doooowwwn.” Spider whined into his back.

“Hell no. Can’t have you tryin’ another stunt like that and slow us down.” Was the excuse Miles came up with, unwilling to admit that the idea of putting the kid down was feeling more and more unappealing by the second. He didn’t realize how much he would enjoy holding his son, until this moment, and he was unwilling to part with the boy.

Spider only groaned and went back to trying to catch his tail.

… and if Miles indulged the boy by flicking his tail near his grabbing hands, no one said a word against it.

[whumpshaped]

No magic, but does Beck have any self defense instincts? I know he probably wouldn't consciously react on them, but.... Would he ever do something like bite Helle if they spooked him suddenly?

of course! beck is a vampire after all! a predator! big scary!

masterlist bingo card

tw vampire whumper, vampire whumpee, conditioned whumpee, fear of punishment, manipulation, mind games

Life in the mansion was quite cosy and peaceful, for the most part. Aside from the general levels of anxiety and the sometimes debilitating loneliness and isolation, Beck had nothing to complain about. He could almost completely forget about being a runt, with the steady supply of blood Helle was allowing him.

Never completely, though, of course. Because Helle reminded him. And they reminded him often.

Because of how sheltered he was, Beck really had little idea of how his vampire instincts worked. He never really got a proper feel for how strong he actually was, because Helle was stronger, and they were all he could compare himself to — safe to say, he wasn't prepared to see the coffee table snap in half after he'd banged on it out of frustration. He spent the entire evening apologising to Helle for ruining the furniture.

He didn't really use his speed either, unless he was running away from a human who accidentally spooked him. After having woken up to a group of hunters breaking into the mansion, he was extra jumpy, and he didn't hesitate to flee from any situation that made him feel even mildly threatened. Being able to catch his phone ten times out of ten was a nice bonus, he supposed.

'Fighting' and 'self-defence' never even crossed his mind. Once again, the only person he regularly interacted with was Helle, a vampire far stronger than he was. There was no reason to fight them, and no chance of defending himself. He was magicless, too, and from what he'd gathered, that meant he was absolutely useless in a violent setting; so that was exactly how he lived his life.

Until one night, Helle decided to sneak up on him.

He hardly remembered the exact sequence of events. He'd heard a noise, someone touched him– it didn't matter. All that mattered was that he'd sank his fangs right into Helle's hand, and he was still holding that hand in his mouth, and his jaw was completely locked up from the shock and anxiety.

Helle blinked at him a couple times. "So..." They gently tugged on their hand. "Any chance of me getting my hand back?"

Beck let out a soft whine, and finally released his hold. "I'm so sorry," he said immediately after. "I– I got scared– I'm sorry, I don't know why that was my first thought– and then I just, I just couldn't open my mouth, I got too anxious, it's a thing that happens when I'm anxious–"

As Helle slowly lifted their hand he quieted down, mortified to see the two puncture wounds he'd caused. Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Helle was going to muzzle him, they were going to pull his fangs out with pliers, they were going to wire his mouth shut.

"Do you think this is appropriate behaviour?" they asked, and Beck tried to make himself a little smaller.

"N-no, Master. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to–"

"Did I ask for excuses?"

He was trembling now, shaking his head frantically. "No, Master."

I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry please at least let me say I'm sorry–

"Dogs who bite get put down," they said softly, cocking their head to the side. "Are you going to bite again?"

"No!" he cried desperately, tears welling up in his eyes. "No, Master, please, I'm sorry–"

Helle burst out laughing, making him stop his pathetic grovelling for a second. Was that... good? Was he entertaining enough not to be put down?

They licked the blood off their hand, still smiling. "Fret not, dear, you are always such a good boy for me. I am merely teasing." They stepped away and Beck let out a relieved sigh, only for Helle to swiftly remind him that being on edge was a constant in their home. "But do keep in mind that I bite back, yes?"

~

taglist: @whumpsday @the-scrapegoat @hidden-dreamland @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @delicateprincepaper @whumppmuhw @florissimps @nicolepascaline @oliversrarebooks @the-cyrulik @pirefyrelight @there-will-always-be-blood @pigeonwhumps @echo-goes-mmm @whumpycries @morning-star-whump @d-cs @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees @tauntedoctopuses @blueyellow8green @typewrittenfangs @whumpsoda @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @auroragehenna

[odusseus-xvi]

MORE DUNGEON MESHI x MONSTER HUNTER

So, I said on a post, and I'm quoting, "I doubt Laios would have much of a chance against a Deviljho, [...]" ( This post )

And now people are arguing in my tags saying that Laios would definitely beat a Deviljho.

SO that made me reconsider a thing or two, HOWEVER I think a lot of people are forgetting what a Deviljho is. So let's look further into that : (REMINDER this is not serious I'm just having fun)

what- what are you talking about. No. No hunters are not grounded. They wield weapons heavier than they are while wearing batshit crazy armor. They can jump from icredible heights and suffer no damage *canonically*. Hunters are inhumanly strong canonically, and that is the only reason they do not die instantly to monster attacks.

That AND the hunter/huntress you play in the games is an exception even among hunters. Especially in the old games we had a lot of tales and quest descriptions that implied most hunters would die against such monsters. The one who faces Deviljhos and Elder Dragons are exceptions that are considered legends. (Like The Sapphire Star of the Fifth Fleet in MH World, the hunter you play.)

OK so multiple things to say, both in favor and against Laios in this situation.

1 : Now that yes, a lot of tags talked about Laios being effective against Monster Hunter monsters because he would LOVE studying their weaknesses and that is the trademark of a good monster, and I agree with that, a really good thing for Laios. He would probably figure out how to use it's appetite against Deviljho, using poisoned meat and other things to make the fight easier (let's remember nonetheless that Deviljho's metabolism is very resistant and wouldn't die from poison, the reason it can eat most of everything) 1.5 : HOWEVER the second option is terrible. Do not starve a Deviljjho. Not only would no one be able to do that consistantly, a Deviljho WILL find a way to eat, but the more starved is a Deviljho the more violent and strong it becomes : Starving Deviljho and Savage Deviljho (two different Variants) comes from a Deviljho so hungry it becomes near unstoppable.

2 : Ok but Marcille is cheating (I'm joking I'm joking but yeah, with Marcille on his side it would increase his chances greatly.)

3 : "It has a much thinner hide than a Red Dragon." That is true HOWEVER, let's remember : The Red Dragon as a spot that kills it instantly if hit, that is not the case of a Deviljho. It's Hide is still *very* strong, AND it has spikes making it harder to hit it without weapons boucing right off.

4 : Ok but who decides that, what if Laios gets Isekaid to MH universe. (that is not a serious point but like, who knows what we consider for what happens in this situation.)

5 : Last one : That wouldn't work, Deviljho has a thick hide, most normal weapons wouldn't do much against it AND one of the things Deviljho does is open up HIS OWN muscles and by how scarred it is. It would survive some Laios swordplay.

Yes As much as I think Laios would probably die against a Deviljho, he would have a FUCKIN BLAST in the Mh universe : A whole GUILD dedicated to understand and study monster, and some monsters considered good meals. yeah yeah he would love it.

THAT would be his way to both eat some Deviljho and survive the encounter : Chop off the tail, and flee the furious beast. A carefully crafted plan would make it possible.

NOW some things about Deviljho some of you might have forgotten that might tip the fight in it's favor :

The size :

Deviljhos are MASSIVE, but they are also FAST, they run fast, they can jump extremely far, they are muscly, they can carry monsters such as ODOGARONS in their jaw without much of an injury. They are also powerful enough to fight back when caught in a trap.

And my last two points :

1 : Deviljho has a corrosive saliva that corrodes and melts ARMOR off, that's why in the game you get Defense Down when you get pinned in it's jaw. One mistep from Laios, and it's over. Reminder that the guy wears basic iron armor. Laios does havd some healing magic, but that would only buy him a little bit of time.

2 : Now that one is more complicated : Dragonblight is mysterious in canon, no one really knows what the Dragon Element really is, but we do know that it is really powerful, that it hurts real bad, and that it increases your weakness . (and that it's linked to the madness of it's user but that doesn't matter here.) That is really powerful, hard to dodge, and would be really hard for Laios or anyone to truly understand.

A few weaknesses a Deviljho DOES have and that Laios could use :

It's weak to Thunder. I don't know what Laios would do, but who knows he'd probably have an idea.

It's weak to Dragon Element. Well. That one's probably not being used.

It's belly hide DOES become softer when enraged, but it's till very thick, and it's tall enough that it's hard to reach.

It's perpetually hungry, and the use of drugged meats is a known method, Laios would probably figure that one out.

It has little self preservation and is reckless. The thing is, Laios too. But there is things to do here.

Ok I think that's my most autism post I ever did. welp. A reminder, I did this just because I was having fun doing it, this is not serious. A fight between Laios and a Deviljho would have a lot of variables. (I still do think a Deviljho has more chances of winning but who knows) (also hot take Laios is not the best fighter)

that's it that's the post. There you go.

[nerdieforpedro]

You're not Broken

Frankie Morales x plus size female reader

Fanfiction: Teens and up

Masterlist / Francisco “Catfish” Morales Masterlist

Approx word count: ~2200 (I edited a bit after starting my draft post.)

Warnings: references to smut, descriptions of past violent traumatic events, depression, PTSD, minor physical altercation (wasn't intentional), anxiety, self-deprecation, Fluff at the end

Notes: I'm happy to finally have a fic for Frankie Friday! In many of my fics as of late, the angst has been HEAVY, this one is no exception. I tried to include all the warnings I thought would apply, please let me know if I need to add anything. I think at some point depending on what weird, painful, happy or fun path life has taken you down, we all may feel broken at some point.

We're not, we're just humans in an imperfect world just trying to figure it out.

The same question had been nagging your thoughts for the past month, “Why doesn’t he let me sleep over at his house?” You’d been with your boyfriend Frankie for three months, getting to know each other, having mind-blowing sex and having a great time so you thought. You’d even met his daughter, Camilla, who was an adorable two year old toddler a few times. Frankie would sleep at your place, playing big spoon to your little spoon, his strong arms wrapped around you, his chin and scruffy beard against your shoulder and neck. You’ve been to the man’s house, just haven’t stayed overnight in it. You realize it’s dumb, thinking too hard about this, you’ve only been together three months, it’s not that long, but it’s also not that short either, at least to you. He makes sure you get home safe from your dates and calls to let you know he’s in his house safe. 

One night, you decide that tonight you’re going to ask him why, why he doesn’t want you in his house overnight. Frankie doesn’t offer an explanation, only that he didn’t realize that it was that important to you. Instantly, you feel like an idiot for bringing it up. He assures you you’re not and you both go off to bed, sleep soundly and he cooks you breakfast. Slowly, you spend more nights at his house, but it was one particular night within the week you had been staying overnight at Frankie’s house why he was hesitant to have you over.

It turns out, Franscico Morales is a man with layers, like an onion. He hates that analogy because his friend Santiago says it too often and Benny mentions that his feet smell like onions, anyone’s feet would after wearing heavy boots all day with no breathable material. He’s a kind man, a loving partner and a doting father. He was also a soldier in the Special Forces of the US Army. This left him with blemishes on his mind and frayed his soul, he tries to remember he’s not that man anymore and has moved on, left that behind. As a concept, he understands, but his body and soul never forget what he did in the name of his country. Most times, he can keep busy to stave off the intrusive thoughts, the fears, the self-loathing, the guilt of surviving, the blood he can still see on his hands and head shots he made. Even flying, something Frankie loves doing which lead him to the army, reminds him of his past, moving his comrades bodies to and fro, sometimes they were alive, sometimes not. Frankie has talked to some people about it, some at the VA, and those he served with, but it’s a struggle each day. He is happy though, his daughter lights up his world and so do you, his new girlfriend who he does want to see when he wakes up.

Instead, Frankie sometimes sees the faces of those left behind, those who he couldn’t save, other times, it might just be blood or his old comrade Tom on that damn mountain a hole in his fucking head. He doesn’t want to burden you with this quite yet, things are new, they’re good. He can’t bear for you to walk away as others have, scared of him, feeling he’s defective in some way. Even Camila’s mother felt that way about him, she told him he’s a wonderful father but a haunted man that can’t let anyone in. That stuck with Frankie in the subsequent years.

Now he’s here, happy that you’re lying next to him, but wondering when it will happen. When his mind will fail him again and he’ll see the past horrors taunt him once more. Thankfully you’re a heavy sleeper, he was sure that he had woken you at your place when he got up in the middle of the night and went for a walk, sat on the couch, read one of your books, scrolled through his phone and then when he was near exhausted, he climbed back into bed. You were never the wiser though, you’d wake up with that gorgeous smile and ask him how he slept, give him a kiss and ask him what he wanted to eat. It was as it should be, no nightmares, no horrid dreams, no violent visions, maybe he got three or four hours of sleep tops, but it was next to someone who treated him like he was normal. He had found that he slept slightly better at your place so he was hoping to keep that going as long as possible. The veteran would get up to four and a half hours of sleep consecutively at your home

Tonight in Frankie’s house was fine, better then fine actually because once again, he made you say nothing but his name for at least an hour. After you both came down from your highs, your boyfriend wiped you down per his routine. If there was one thing you had learned about Frankie, unless he approves, don’t disrupt his routine. He takes special care to wipe you down first then himself, encourages you to use the bathroom followed by himself. Then the pair of you got into bed, his big spoon to your little spoon. A lovely end to a lovely evening. 

Except at one in the morning, you heard whispering. Frankie’s large hands weren’t on your round belly or wide thighs, instead, he had them wrapped around himself as sweat dotted his brow. An unfamiliar grimace was on his face as he mumbled something you couldn’t make out, it didn’t sound like words. You reached to touch his shoulder and he snapped back, he looked at you but his eyes were wide and unfocused. One of his hands grabbed your wrist as he draped you out of bed, he crouched behind the bedroom door. You didn’t say anything at first, shocked by what was happening but you started calling his name, first Frankie which he didn’t answer to, then you tried Francisco, he still gave you nothing. He was rattling off numbers now which were nonsensical. Finally you tried Sergeant Morales which got him to focus on you finally.

It took him a minute, but he recognized you and gasped in horror. Frankie didn’t remember getting out of the bed or grabbing you, ‘a new horror has happened’ he thought as he released your wrist. You actually hadn’t felt your hand for the last few minutes and now that he wasn’t putting any pressure on it, your wrist throbbed in pain, you winced but didn’t want to scare Frankie more than you already assumed that he was. He turned to head toward the kitchen but you stopped him.

“Wait, don’t go. I’m alright Frankie.”

“No you’re not cariño. Look at your wrist…I…”

“You didn’t mean to. I know you would never mean to. Is this…” You paused, taking a deep breath before asking. “Is this why you didn’t want me to sleepover?”

Frankie looks away for a moment, closing his eyes. Is this the moment he loses you? You say it’s fine but like hell it is. He knows your wrist hurts and you’ll be lucky if it doesn’t bruise by morning. You’re one of two people he wanted to be his best self for, you and his daughter, but he’s failed. Shown you what the outcome can be if his mind plays serious enough games with him. He looks into your patient eyes and nods. “Yes. Though not as severe as tonight was, most nights I…I don’t sleep well.”

You surprise him by embracing him, wrapping your soft body against him with your arms around him, massaging his back. “I’m glad I now know Frankie. We’re supposed to be up front with each other right?”

Frankie laid his head on your shoulder, placing a soft kiss on your round shoulder, he was in your arms and felt better, still guilty but better. Maybe you wouldn’t leave right away, he’d have time to convince you to stay at least.

“Frankie, let’s go back to bed, but I’ll be the big spoon this time.” His body stiffened, that was not part of the routine, his regimen with you. Before he could mention this, you’d pulled him back to bed and laid down, patting the pillow beside yourself. The man sighed and laid next to you in bed, giving in to your whim. He rolled on his side and felt your body against his, though your arms, especially your sore wrist didn’t quite make it around him due to the broadness of his back. 

“Cariño, I think we should switch positions. Doesn’t your wrist hurt like that?” You knew Frankie wasn’t wrong, it still pulsed with pain, though slightly less since it had been a few minutes. You decided to turn on your back and patted your chest.

“Lay here then. No funny business though, we have work in the morning.” A playful grin spread across your lips. Frankie let out a happy huff and laid his head on your tender breasts as his chest lay across half your plush belly. One hand patted your head, his fingers rubbing your scalp as his other hand squeezed your hip. 

“This is a lot better. You sure you can sleep like this though? Are you comfortable?” Your boyfriend asked, that was the man you knew, always concerned for your well being, even when you’re trying to get him settled.

“Yes, I can sleep through you having horrible dreams most nights.” You closed your eyes, realizing that may have been a cutting statement to make, but it was mainly directed at yourself. He’s been suffering like this and you didn’t know, slept happily without a care because you don’t remember your dreams but he does and it’s detrimental for him. “Sorry, I just…I would have tried to help you sooner you know. I get why you didn’t tell me. It’s a hellova thing to deal with Frankie.” You feel his body start to relax and to put more of his weight on you, he’s accepting of the position at least, you’re hopeful that it can get him back to sleep with minimal issue.

“Thank you cariño. I don’t deserve your understanding or your kindness.” A small acknowledgement comes from Frankie, though it makes you frown. He shouldn’t speak of himself that way, it’s not his fault his mind is in this state, it took years to become this. You had an arm that was laying across the pillows, above his shoulder, you bent it to place his scalp in your palm grasping and releasing his soft curls.

With a kiss placed on his forehead you told him, “You’re not broken Frankie. You’re entitled to so much from life. I love you and I won’t hear you talk about yourself like that. You’re too important to me.” A heat rose from your cheeks and spread throughout your body, you might burst into flames. You just told this man you loved him and you’ve only been dating him three months, that seems a bit soon. Even if a real tender moment is happening right now, that could sour it a bit or weird it out. You stayed perfectly still, closing your eyes to avoid the look on his face whatever it was. You worry too much.

Frankie is ecstatic with this turn of events. In fact, he too was wondering if it was too soon. Your plush body he loses himself in, your melodic voice where it always sounds like you’re singing his name, Camilla appeared to like you - she didn’t do the stranger danger and waddle away, you make him laugh, his friends liked you, you were aware of his past transporting discretion and although you didn’t excuse it completely, understood that he was trying to make ends meet at the time, enjoyed how comfortable he could be with you even in silence. Why shouldn’t he tell you that he loves you, especially now that you’ve said it first, though he did want to beat you to that originally. Francisco popped his chin up to look at you, your eyes were closed and he snickered, he had horrible dreams and you spun too many things inside that pretty head of yours.

“Look at me, Cariño,” he waited until you made eye contact with him. This was important after all, “I love you too and I also thought it was too soon. We’re on the same page most of the time. Stop spinning and sleep.” A small peck landed on the top of your breast before he laid his head back down.

Soon both of your respirations slowed and you slept until the morning. Frankie did not wake during the night or need an early morning walk. He had the best sleep he’d had in years. You were ecstatic to see him the next morning actually looking well rested for once, sitting on the side of the bed as he said good morning to you. Your hands pressed against his back as did your cheek - a wonderful start to the day for you both.

[and-stir-the-stars]

Evan and Mikey drabble that I didn't bother proofreading:

"Evan…"

Michael wishes he wasn't so unsettled by his little brother's eyes. 

It isn't even the twin gaping pits jammed into the center of Evan’s face that are a bit too wide, or the thick black liquid oozing from the empty eye sockets, or the lights glaring amidst the darkness. 

It's the fact that those two pinpoints of light are staring directly at Michael that makes the blood freeze in the elder Afton’s veins. He isn't sure why. Maybe it's because Evan had always been a quiet child; quiet and shy, reluctant to look anyone in the eye or start a fuss, especially after Michael’s behavior toward him had turned from teasing to cruel. Maybe it's because he never expected his little brother to look at him again.

Michael takes a step forward, his eyes locked on the pain clearly etched in the way Evan has his brows furrowed angrily in Mike's direction.

In his haste, Michael forgets about Evan’s silent protector. 

Michael takes a step forward, and in the corner of his eye, he sees a flash of gold and purple. That flash is all the warning he gets before an unnaturally heavy metal hand digs into his shoulder with enough force to draw blood. A deep, guttural, enraged growl echoes in Michael’s ears, making the hairs along his arms stand on end and his entire body tense as teeth gnash inches from his face. 

The golden paw jerks against Michael’s shoulder, and the sudden upset of balance sends Michael’s head tumbling straight into the gnashing teeth. 

Except the teeth pull away at the last second. 

Michael stumbles on his feet. The growl still echoes in his ears, the twisted metal still holds firmly just underneath the skin on the back of Michael’s shoulder. 

In the back of his mind, Michael thinks– knows– that he should be dead.

The metal protector is farther away now, trembling as it watches him like a German Shepherd being held back from a cat, straining against its leash. 

Without the teeth seconds away from tearing his head off, Michael can see his little brother's ghost again.

Evan is still staring straight at him, but now, he has one fist raised in the air with a violently trembling arm as the dark tears leak down his face. 

"Stay– away– Mikey–" Evan grinds out. "Stay away. You're not going to get me or my friends ever again. I'm strong now, Mikey. Strong enough to stop bad things from happening." 

Michael has heard a similar tone from Evan before. It reminds Michael of how Evan would threaten to tell father if his big brother kept being mean. Except this time, Michael knew it wasn't an empty threat that Evan would give up on if his older brother glared at him. This time, Evan meant it.

Tears prick Michael’s eyes; all the horrible things Michael has ever done that have been trapped inside his head claw at the backs of his eyes, desperate to get out. "...Bad things like me?" Michael whispers before he can stop himself. 

"Yes." Evan's voice is strained, as though speaking through vocal cords put through a garbage disposal.

Evan’s protector jerks forward, the German Shepherd finding a sudden slack in its leash and greedily clawing forward every millimeter it can. 

Michael flinches.

And so does Evan. 

"I can hurt you," Evan sobs. He still holds his fist up in the air, and his entire arm is tense from the tips of his fingers to his shoulder. It's not just Evan’s arm trembling from exertion, either; his entire body is shaking from the effort of keeping the growling yellow figure back. 

"I can hurt you for what you did. I want to hurt you." Evan's voice wobbles so much Michael can barely make out the words. "I want to hurt you so much."

And then Evan collapses. His knees hit the ground with the thick thump of skin slamming against tile, so loud that Michael can hear the painful sound even from a distance. Evan’s head lowers until all Michael can see is a shock of tangled, blood-stained brown hair. The fingers of one of Evan's hands grapple against the smooth tiled floor like a drowning man clawing for something to grab onto amidst the waves. But through it all, Evan keeps his fist raised up, keeps the yellow monster from getting too close to Michael. 

"I– I'm bad," Evan whimpers into Michael’s stunned silence. "I want– to hurt you. I'm bad, I'm bad, I'm bad, I'm–"

Michael shoves the large yellow paw off his shoulder and doesn't even flinch as the motion makes the twisted metal buried under his skin slice through his flesh. 

He pushes past the large, growling creature without a thought and collapses next to his little brother. 

Michael’s arms circle around his brother.

"Listen to me," Michael said, voice raw. "You are not a bad person. You aren't; I swear to you, you aren't."

His hands lead Evan’s head to rest in the crook of Mike's neck. Evan’s hands fisted in Michael’s shirt and dug painfully into his skin, like Evan wasn't sure whether to cling onto him or push him away. 

*Fredbear as a silent protector inspired by the past refuses to be forgotten

[practickles]

EnaKasa Tickle Headcanons

It's downright criminal that these two have never interacted.

Absolute. Drama. Queens. 

Neither of them can just sit still and take it, they are either flailing and squealing like it’s the one thing between them and spontaneous combustion or twitching violently and complaining nonstop (never meaning a word of course) 

Ticklish tummy solidarity. I don’t make the rules, sorry. 

Tha image of them just sitting next to each other, gradually hiking up each others shirt and tickling oh so softly without either laughing or saying a word. It’s kind of become an unspoken game for them at this point. The first one to giggle gets nonstop raspberries for at least 5 minutes. They have a pretty even win/loss streak. 

These two are stubborn, so tickle fights can get intense and often start with no warning. 

All it takes is a few fingers under either of their arms and suddenly its been an hour and both are exhausted and panting on the floor. 

Ena for sure plays dirty too. Does that thing where she pretends to be giving a break but right as Tsukasa inhales, she tickles him again. She’s also really mean by means of going for bad spots and not letting up for even a moment. 

It is no understatement to say that both of those make him lose his mind screaming. 

Pretty much the only advantages he has on her are physical. He’s got size, strength, and endurance but in every other sense she has him completely beat. Yeah he can pin her but that won’t stop the teasing, which is half the battle for him.

Neither of them mind how often he loses though.

I’ve talked on here before about Tsukasa being the most dramatic and playful, but also the sweetest ler out there. That 100% rings true when he goes for Ena too. 

She’s the type to be easily frustrated and then take that frustration out on herself. Luckily for her, her boyfriend hates that and has a much better solution for it (read: frequently tickling her to pieces)

Idk, I think Ena comfort tickles would just be a common thing for them in general. 

Tsukasa is one of the only people in her life who she feels comfortable enough to admit to that she kind of maybe just a little bit doesn’t hate being tickled. 

He, of course, understands that’s Ena-speak for “she loves to be tickled. It makes her happy.” He also knows she’s frequently in need of comfort. 

Body image issues? Soft tickles everywhere she’s insecure while he whispers how pretty his girlfriend is. Insecure about her art? Tickling her until she forgets and saying the corniest stuff like “if your art is half as lovely as that laugh, then you have no reason to worry.” Trouble waking up? Try staying in bed when you’re too busy squirming. 

It is a miracle she hasn’t burnt to a crisp yet with how easily he can make her blush.

Another embarrassing thing he does is the theatrics.

He just makes.. Such a big deal about how fun it is for both of them and is clearly so engrossed in it. 

Playing characters and high pitched “kitchi kitchi” noises serve to remind Ena exactly what’s going on and exactly why she’s not pulling away.

The worst part for her is the fact that he’s not even trying to fluster her with the tickling. It’s just an added bonus if/when he notices it. He’s just so affectionate she can’t help getting all embarrassed.

Ena, on the other hand, does not at all take Tsukasa’s sweetness into account when he winds up on the receiving end. 

Ena loves to draw on Tsukasa in general, like doodling on his arms/hands whenever she's feeling antsy but especially loves being able to take the time to make use of his stomach when she's in the mood for a longer “project”.

Really it's just an excuse to see/touch Tsukasa's tummy but he doesn't need to know that. Sometimes she doesn't even draw, just traces shapes with her finger or a clean paintbrush.

“Such a beautiful and strong canvas. So perfect for me” is all that needs to come out of her mouth for Tsukasa to be ready and able to do anything she could ever want.

She’s one to keep her nails always well done and pretty and that fact has nearly sent Tsukasa to his grave so many times. 

He already loves how they look, he can recognize the artistry and has even considered having his own done. But when they’re wiggling towards him? He’s an absolute goner. She knows exactly how to pinch his ribs and slowly drag them around. 

To the point where he’s associated that with her nails and even looking at her hands too long can put him in a lee mood. 

Tickles to get him to shut up. 

Tsukasa has a unique talent of being able to fill any room’s silence with his voice going on and on and on. Ena has a talent for filling the room with his laughter instead.

Tsukasa can get kind of overenthusiastic and reactive at times, but that's not necessarily a bad thing. Sometimes though, feeling so much at once is overwhelming and what better way of tiring yourself out than annoying your vindictive girlfriend into wrecking you to pieces?

A classic favorite of his is to poke Ena over and over, sometimes somewhere ticklish to make her jumpy or even just her cheek just to be annoying. 

Because he lacks subtlety, she always knows what’s going on. 

Whether she draws it out and makes him admit it or immediately gets him back depends on her mood. Tsukasa loves both regardless, it’s a win-win.

He gets downright whiney if she drags it on too long but still won’t ask. The best she’ll ever get is a little mumble.

When Ena is in the ever elusive “soft ler” mode, she has a tendency to become absolutely captivated with any smile of Tsukasa’s. She just wants to look at him all day. Every single one of his features is perfect to her. 

He gets so so shy from the attention, Ena just has to tickle him right back out of his shell. 

[thesunshineriptide]

Could I request the vice housewardens + Ruggie play fighting with the reader, is there a certain way they initiate if they play fight at all? Do they smack talk? I NEED TO KNOW

Also don't forget to drink water and consume your fruits and veggies 💛

This request made me so happy and it was hilarious to think about someone fighting a bunch of cryptids for fun. Anyway yes absolutely I hope this if acceptable and thank you for reminding me, I am currently drinking water now

Okay so the vice housewardens (or second in commands, which is more accurate) are the feistiest group at NRC. They are all shady or ready to deck someone which makes me think that it’s simply a trait housewardens look for. I’d imagine they all play-fight, but where and how varies greatly. Also the tags look so gnarly but I swear none of them are that violent

Hit me with your best shot

Characters: Trey, Ruggie, Jade, Jamil, Rook, Ortho, Lilia, Floyd (mentioned)

Tw// fighting, violence, drowning (mentions), biting, hunting, Rook typical behavior, Leech typical behavior, food, bruises/marks, blood mention

Trey

Definitely a play fighter in the casual way.

Most likely to poke at you, smack you with a pillow, throw something at you, etc.

He’s probably the second gentlest in this regard because he’s human and not training to beat the fuck out of someone

When you play fight it’s probably because one of you is being snippy after a long day of dealing with other peoples bullshit.

You aren’t likely to end up actually injured or bruised or anything, but you may end up wrestling on the floor of Trey’s room or smacking each other with pillows.

He’s an older brother so he knows restraint but the urge to pull hair and smack the shit out of someone is strong.

Instead he just pins you to the ground and dramatically lays on you to keep you there

You guy definitely have a food fight.

Not like, with finished dishes or anything, but in a ‘I dropped some ice from the freezer and instead of kicking it under the fridge, we’re playing ice soccer in the kitchen at 3 am’ kind of way.

Or sometimes when you have leftover frosting from a cake he’s made you end up flinging it at each other.

If you ever cover his mouth he will lick it and give you an evil smirk

His trash talk is somehow both very good and very bad at the same time.

He gets into it but he also uses stupid insults like “you’re a poopface” mostly because he wants you to know he’s joking because onetime he called riddle an asshole and he cried so now he’s careful

Please take a boxing class with him you two would have so much fun

Ruggie

Initiates by walking up and biting your shoulder or sometimes just shoving you and running.

If you accept playfighting him at least once be prepared he’s going to do it a lot.

He has so much pent up aggression.

Half of the fighting is smack talk and boy does he have a MOUTH.

Hopefully you have thick skin because otherwise when he says shit like “you look like a gazelle ass fucked a cactus” you might actually cry

Definitely rougher when he plays.

Expect claw marks, bites, bruises, and sore limbs when you’re done fighting.

Try to ignore the stares you get from everyone when they see a bite mark on your shoulder because how do you explain you didn’t do that you were actually just beating the shit out of each other

He will start a fight literally anywhere and you two probably go at it for at least an hour before he gives up

If he ends up drawing blood he’s frantically making sure you’re alright and patching you up

Probably play fights with you as warmup for spelldrive practice.

This entails him coming to your room, pouncing on you to wake you up, then maniacally laughing when you fight him off with a scowl.

But on the bright side, he brought you breakfast (Leona paid for it, shhh) so it wasn’t for nothing

Jade

Jade isn’t one to play fight normally, he has a reputation to keep up.

So he won’t usually initiate that.

If you start to goad him into it, he just gives you a menacing smile then turns you over to Floyd to play like that.

If you still insist on playing with him, he will literally just pick you up and sling you over his shoulder until you promise to stop.

Then he drops you on the ground.

Now, that’s how it goes on land, anyway. But in water? Hooboy, hope you can hold your breath.

Jade’s third favorite thing to do is drag people underwater (the first two are hiking in the mountains and teasing Azul) and luckily for you, he remembers just how much you like play fighting!

And since Jade’s in the water, chances are Floyd is too.

They rarely do fun things without each other.

So now you’re going to be fighting for your life from two mischievous mer-eels.

Jade wears a darkly serene expression as he asks you whatever could be the matter and Floyd looks like he’s won the fucking jackpot when you surface from getting dragged into the water with them

You will not win this playfight, because there is little distinguishing it from a real one.

The only difference is that they aren’t actually trying to harm you, but you probably won’t realize that when Jade repeatedly drags you under water to see how long you can hold your breath, trapping your legs with his tail.

He finds the way you beat at him with your fists pretty adorable, which is lucky because that means you won’t drown today!

You will receive 0 aftercare from him for this traumatic experience, but he may invite you to do it again.

Don’t accept it’s a tr-

Jamil

You’re not so much play-fighting Jamil as you’re training with him.

Which is probably good, it means there’s rule and a time limit.

Anyway, most of his comments are half trash talk and half trying to get a rise out of you.

Very “is that the best you’ve got?”

Sparring with him is fucking exhausting so you likely do it mostly in the evenings or when Jamil is training some other students.

Sometimes he gets way too into it and ends up mixing breakdance moves and martial arts to kick your ass.

He has knocked your feet out from under you before and he will do it again

Moves so confidently and quickly you think he might moonlight as an assassin

Chances are you’re not gonna beat him, he’s got years of experience, but you’re getting stronger and faster when you’re with him.

If he ends up hitting you too hard he apologizes quickly and you don’t usually have many bruises due to the fact he makes you wear padding and you spar on a mat

Dude can totally take a hit so you don’t really have to hold back (he prefers if you don’t, it tests him more)

so don’t be afraid to smack him around.

Genuinely appreciative of you doing this with him and makes sure to let you know every time you take up his offer to practice together

He repays you buy providing you with snacks light on the stomach after you’re done working out together, usually some lightly chilled water and a piece of fruit.

Also sends you home with leftovers of whatever he made for dinner that night

Rook

Hahahaha….oh dear lord. So listen, there’s two types of play fighting.

There’s the one you initiate, then there’s the one he initiates.

One of them is fun!

The other is straight from a horror movie

If you initiate, he’s happy to indulge, and he hits a littler harder than he means to sometimes but overall it’s pretty chill.

You two end up chasing each other around campus, playing what could be described as a really intense, violent game of tag.

By the time you’re done, you’re both covered in dirt of mud and have sticks and leaves sticking to you.

If he initiates, please don’t take his offer.

This is the scary one.

His version of play fighting is chasing you through the woods behind campus with a bow and arrow and yelling vague threats about “ahh, you’re close! I can almost smell you~” and occasionally shooting an arrow that is ENTIRELY TOO CLOSE for comfort.

If he catches up to you - or just decides this is the right moment - he’s tackling you to the ground.

He’ll tease you for losing before attacking you with tickles, the most terrifying of all weapons.

So maybe it isn’t scary in the end, since he was never gonna hurt you, but running through the forest with nobody nearby except for a guy armed with a long ranged weapon is absolutely terrifying, and there’s always the slim chance he misses….

Ortho

Gentlest of the list.

He’s more sure how much pressure to apply when play fighting, so it mostly ends up being pillow fights, or something else that’s soft.

Poking, bumping into you, very very gentle punching, that’s all on the table.

If you try to initiate, Idia will get very pissed.

All of his internal components are extremely sensitive, you can’t just smack him! And besides that, he’s tiny, and his brother! Why would you do this?

Idia is genuinely terrifying when his entire attention is focused on you, and hes pissed.

The flames of his hair are growing and flickering wildly as his gold eyes glare down into yours.

The only thing that calms him down is when Ortho begs him to

So you don’t really get to physically play fight with him anymore, but you do get to game together.

With Idia’s supervision.

He’s not going to be letting Ortho around you anymore since you decided to fight a literal innocent child

Lilia

I’m fairly certain that play fighting is Lilia’s love language.

He loves to beat the shit out of people.

Least gentle next to Jade, because he will literally grab you and throw you in the air.

You’re not in danger, but his awareness of the human limits is limited, unlike Jade.

Probably isn’t a fan of shit-talking in person, but definitely does it when he’s gaming late at night.

Probably play fight in the Diasomnia lounge.

There’s an audience there to watch you get your ass kicked by an old man, as well as to see you fling the five foot nothing bat across the room.

Most intense play fighting imaginable.

He’s a big fan of flipping people and literally just throwing people around.

He’s completely fine with people doing it back to him, he finds it fun.

Playing with him is like trying to fight black widow, except if you call for a time out he’ll let you.

Silver and Sebek both try and warn you not to do this.

They literally trained with him as children they know he does not fuck around.

You ignore their advice and end up with a broken leg and a bowl of Lilia’s soup.

[wulvercazz]

// mpreg , possessive behavior , arrancar instincts and feral shit in general bc hollow love , some suggestive and mildly spicy mentions , this lil ramble has no point btw just me rambling about these two for the sake of it 🥰

I just think the idea of such a feral and violent man slowing down (barely, but he does) for a human (not fully, but Grimmjow’s never forgetting that part of him is) and the tiny bump he caused… is just soso good.

And Ichigo knows this oh so welll 😩 he’s in awe everyday that, not only is Grimmjow still here but also here with him, of all people.

Round and full and claimed, his more animalistic side reminds him.

If we’re being honest, it’s Ichigo who’s claimed. So enamored with the most callous parts of the arrancar that he can’t keeps his hands to himself even when Grimmjow eats hollow flesh sloppily. Getting blood and guts all over himself like he would have when he was an adjuchas, eating again so much because he’s eating for two and his child is going to be as strong as he can manage to make them.

Details.

Ichigo’s deeper instincts are so happy they’d wag that big ol dragon tail of his for him, if they could. It translates to more and more need to touch, to hold, to protect. And he can tell Grimmjow’s annoyed by the constant coddling, but he hasn’t fled to Hueco Mundo to do this on his own like he very easily could, and he receives his touch with only mildly amused annoyance that usually ends with a purr or a deep, satisfied, rumble; and that’s more than he could ask for.💕