#so just to be clear this /isn't/ an attack on anyone

[hopeswriting]

i don't know what *fanon reborn* looks like and at this point i'm too afraid to ask

hi nonny, thank you for the ask!

LMAO yeah that's valid actually. and for the quick disclaimer my understanding of fanon!reborn might not be accurate anymore because i know him from way back when i was also reading a lot of khr fics (my brain keeps telling me 2014, but i think it's more like 2016/2018), but basically fanon!reborn is... an asshole for no good reasons and also all the time.

and this is when you tell me “but hope, you just said canon!reborn is an asshole too!”, and you’d be right to because yes i did and yes he is! but where fanon!reborn is an asshole just for the sake of being cruel or because he actually wants to hurt the people he’s being an asshole to, canon!reborn is just one big troll who loves chaos and loves to mess with people whenever he can. but for the sake of fun and being funny. and because the intentions aren’t the same they come off differently in each case, and in the case of fanon!reborn he just comes off as a bully. so even when i could tell the moments where i was supposed to laugh, i was always just left being like “that was just unnecessary and uncalled for yet again. why does anyone even put up with him??” instead.

(this is also when you could tell me “but hope, don’t you think canon!reborn is a bully too? like with tsuna or skull? that’s just writing reborn in character!”. and i’m not gonna argue with you on this one because i think this is typically a case where it depends on your personal sensibilities and where you draw the line, and, well. reading reborn as a bully is of course very easy and understandable, and it’d be hard to argue it’s not canon, but the way i’d personally put it instead is that yes, he very often crosses the line/boundaries of other people, but unknowingly.

for me it comes back to his intentions again, and the way i see it reborn only always mean to tease and not bully. and yes, even when he goes the violent way about it, even if of course it doesn’t make it right. and he probably doesn’t even realize he can and does come off as a bully to other people, because he just assumes that where he thinks their lines are drawn is, in fact, where they’re drawn for real. and confident he’s right about it because how often is he wrong, right? it lets him dismiss complaints about his attitude (tsuna), and even people telling him very explicitly times and times again “hey, can you please stop treating me like that? i really dislike it” (skull) without a second thought.

also re: him being violent and not meaning anything out of it or thinking it’s a big deal. and again, it doesn’t make it right and it is a big deal for the people he’s violent with, but i think it’d be doing a disservice to his character to judge him on that without keeping in mind why he thinks that way. and the why is simply because reborn is mafia to his core and may or may not have known anything else his whole life. and violence is just one of the languages that comes the most naturally to him to interact with the world and people, if not the first one altogether. but that’s actually not even relevant here because to him he’s probably not being violent at all. all those punches and kicks and pinches etc? to him it’s probably just his equivalent of a tap on your hand. a flick on your forehead. him pinching your cheek, etc, etc, you get it.

and i can’t quite imagine what he’d consider as proper and genuine violence would look like when he’s the world’s greatest hitman, but i certainly can believe reborn can do so much worse than anything we saw him do in canon. and that still being seen as acceptable for mafia-standards. i mean, remember what nono did to xanxus? and how that was him being merciful with him? and the way iemitsu knocked tsuna unconscious in one punch to teach him a lesson (< in the literal way, i don’t mean he just wanted to beat his son’s ass for the sake of it lol)? so not only reborn’s behavior is actually super mild (to him), it also literally doesn’t even make it as something he even calls violence to begin with (again, to him).

and okay that was a long digression lol, oops, but yeah, the way i see it reborn is a bully to the people he only means to tease because they just don’t have the same boundaries, but he never actually goes out of his way to be hurtful to them with his behavior in a way where it’d linger and would make them come to resent him. like, the intention is never to actually harm. because yes he can and is mean and doesn’t care to be nice/kind either, but i still genuinely believe he doesn’t have a mean streak in him all the same. i mean, just look at his interactions with lambo. if he doesn’t care about you then that’s that, he’ll just move on with his life and ignore your very existence, and will deal with you only when you actively remind him of your existence again. and even then while still mostly ignoring you lol. and personally i think that makes him more complex and compelling as a character than him just being an asshole with people because he knows he can get away with it as one of the strongest people in the world.)

and that’s of course totally fine because to each their interpretation of the characters, right? but what really rubbed me the wrong way and broke my suspension of disbelief is that the attitude described above (the fanon one) is always glossed right over. and it’s because they actually didn’t mean for him to come out that way, were actually going for some fun banter/teasing and reborn being his canonical troll self, and so he was never called out by either the narrative or the other characters for his attitude. except he didn’t come out like that, not to me anyway, and i just couldn’t keep buying that reborn cared about them or that they cared about him in return.

and i think i can actually guess why fanon!reborn missed the mark with me so often. he just fell prey too to that-idk, trend? where the fans latch on a few selected core traits of the personality of a character, and reduce them to them and them only. which was bound to miss the mark with reborn when canon!reborn is all about balance between all the different sides of his personality. it’s like, he’s literally the biggest threat in the room at pretty much all times except for when his fellow arco are around (and even then because he’s canonically the strongest arco), but he’s also a very playful character who likes to mess around and doesn’t take himself seriously, but he still doesn’t make the mistake of ever letting other people forget he is the biggest threat in the room, but also doesn’t make the mistake of letting it get to his head, and that’s, imo, the framework within which he expresses his personality accordingly.

but okay, let’s just pick and choose the traits of his personality we like best, that too is fine, whatever you want to do, right? and at least when it comes to reborn his fanon version isn’t an entirely different character like *coughs* luce *coughs* some others we shall not name lol. but it’s just my luck that the way they wrote those selected personality traits the most often, and the way they interacted with each other’s really just irked me to the point i couldn’t keep reading those fics. and that’s why fanon!reborn personally doesn’t do it for me.

(and in case you’re wondering about what i think those personality traits are, i don’t want to go in details with them because i’ve already said plenty here that might tick people off lol, but the way i see it it goes something like this:

(canon) reborn likes chaos and fun and to mess with people, and is all around a very playful character. he's rough in the way he expresses that but never has the intention to hurt even if it does end up hurting the people around him because he mistakes where their boundaries are -> (fanon) his playfulness doesn’t survive the trip to fanon (lol) because they get his intentions and inner working/reasoning behind it wrong, so he just comes off as an asshole who likes to be an asshole and hurt the people around him just because he can.

(canon) reborn is the world’s greatest hitman and the strongest arco and is among the best in many other fields too and knows it -> (fanon) reborn is better than everyone at everything and is full of himself and barely has to lift a finger to make other people do what he wants.

(and my issue here is that 1) reborn knows exactly what he’s worth and is very confident in his own skills, yes, but that’s exactly why he doesn’t feel the need to flaunt and reassert how better he is than everyone else all the time, and 2) reborn being among the best of the best himself, it means most of the people he’s surrounded with are also among the best of the best in their own right, the arco first and foremost, and like. they’re prideful in their own right too and would not just let reborn boss them around. they wouldn’t hesitate or be afraid of standing up to him or challenging him either, even if yes, in the case of a full-blown confrontation, reborn is the one most likely to have his way.)

(canon) reborn isn’t one for big show of emotions or being open about or straightforwards with his feelings, but he still expresses himself and is able to get his feelings across in his own way -> (fanon) reborn is too cool to show he cares, but he’s so perfect at it he never shows that he does, in fact, care, and you’re left wondering if he really cares and why anyone would care back enough to put up with him.)

[thekimspoblog]

Demon trying to feed on my insecurities: "You're a bad driver"

Me: "Of course I am. I hate driving. Going 80 mph surrounded by tons of metal is nerve-wrecking. I try to do it as little as possible. Of course I'm bad at it"

Demon: "You're a bad writer"

Me: "Well that part's simply not true. I never claimed I was the greatest author of my generation, but when I put pen to paper I know what I want to communicate and I usually do it well. If someone isn't impressed with my work, that's unfortunate but they're entitled to their opinion"

Demon: "You're a bad leader"

Me: "Well I don't know about that! I mean there was that one time when... Ok look just because people don't see me as an authority figure doesn't mean... 😠 You know you can be a real asshole, demon!"

[werewolfbneimitzvah]

vent post. There are two stories i was told in my teenage years that even before i had a real concept of trans issues made me uninterested in discussing the supposed sacredness and safety of separated sex-based spaces.

First, when i was like 13 or 14 my PE teacher told us about a time she went to a women's public restroom, some guy was hanging out outside the bathrooms, she didn't think anything of it, went to the bathroom, and he walked in after her and like, creeped on her over the top of the stall. She was ok, she wasn't telling us this to scare us, just telling us what to do in situations like that (and iirc she was telling the whole co-ed class this, not just girls, bc it's useful for everyone), but this taught me immediately and forever that there's nothing actually keeping these spaces separate really, that anyone can be a creep in any space, and that establishing a space like that as for women only isn't actually particularly useful for safety.

Second, when i was 16 i was at an anime convention, a friendly acquaintance of mine and i ended up in conversation outside, and he showed me his bare wrist and told me he'd been kicked out. A female friend of his had stepped in dog poop outside, and between that and the stress of the convention she'd had a bit of an emotional breakdown, so being her friend, he started comforting her and ushered her into the women's restroom so they could wash the poop off her shoe together. And because he was a man who went into the women's bathroom, he got kicked out, no matter that he was doing something that was actually beneficial to a woman. Punishing a woman's friend for supporting her was supposed to... protect her somehow? This made it clear to me that a no-exceptions rule separating the sexes like that wasn't actually inherently good for everyone.

And this isn't even getting into me as a child needing to accompany my younger sister to the restroom when we were out with just my dad because she had certain support needs past the age he felt comfortable bringing her into the men's room with him. And what if I'd been born a boy, or she'd been the first born? Who's helping her then?

And of course even putting all this aside, we should always prioritize compassion and support anyway. But i never even needed to meet a trans person to know that "keeping men out of women's bathrooms" is silly nonsense. But trans people also need to pee anyway and as humans they have that right, so leave them the fuck alone. your precious women's restroom is just a fucking room with a door, holy shit give it a fucking rest, if someone is attacking you in the bathroom that's bad and if someone is in there to pee that's good and it doesn't fucking matter what their junk is or was when they were born.

a woman could have done the exact same thing to my PE teacher and it would have also been bad no matter how "supposed" to be in the restroom she was, and no one should ever be punished for helping a crying friend wash their shoe.

Anyway i know I'm speaking to like-minded folks here, i just think about those two stories literally every time bathroom gender shit comes up and it pisses me off.

[flussoperpetuo]

I have to rant a little about what's happening at the Olympics because I'm feeling ashamed as an Italian and angry as a queer person. For those who don't know, there is an Algerian athlete competing in women's boxing named Imane Khelif, who just today had a match against her Italian competitor Angela Carini. Khelif is a cisgender woman who allegedly* naturally produces more testosterone than the average. She was previously disqualified from the IBA World Boxing Championships for failing an unspecified medical test but was cleared by the IOC to compete in the Olympics (side note, the IBA is currently unrecognised by the IOC for internal governance issues and ties to the Russian government). Fast forward to today, Carini decides to withdraw from the match after only 40-odd seconds because Khelif hit her on the nose and apparently it hurt too much. Unsurprisingly Khelif has become the target of a massive shitstorm, including the press mistakenly calling her transgender (which she isn't) and many people, including members of the Italian government and the elongated muskrat himself, spreading misinformation and disgusting transphobic and racist rhetoric. It was so bad that even the Algerian government intervened, and pictures of Khelif as a young girl have been publicly released. I know that the participation of trans people in sport is a thorny conversation, but this whole shitshow isn't helping anyone and the facts are just being weaponised to attack intersex and trans people by the same far-righters who don't give a rat's dick about actual women's rights. So I'm sad about Carini's loss because she's my compatriot, sure, but I'm even angrier at both those people who use Khelif, an innocent athlete who has all the right to compete against other women, as the target for their campaigns of hatred, and those who don't bother finding proper information and remain content in their prejudices.

* edited the post slightly because there is no official confirmation that Khelif is intersex, nor that she has higher testosterone levels for medical or physiological reasons, and she never failed a testosterone test that we know of.

[icykalisartblog]

DDoS Attack Against AO3: Correcting Misinformation

Normally I don't make any posts like this, but I have an interest in cybersecurity and sadly I've seen people are being really ignorant about this recent DDoS attack against the site AO3 (Archive of Our Own), so I thought I'd remind people of a few things:

Anonymous Sudan appears to have no actual link to Sudan at all, or to any previous hacktivist groups that once operated there. This masquerade is probably based in anti-immigration and other racist sentiments, and utilizing those sentiments in other people to scare people and set up Muslims and Sudanese people as a target. This should be obvious from the language used in their note, but this was already known prior to this particular attack.

This so-called Anonymous Sudan has actually been very active recently—remember that they claimed to attack Reddit, Flickr, Riot Games, a huge number of Microsoft web portals like OneDrive and Outlook, etc. before AO3, so AO3 was totally a logical target for them since they've gone after smaller entities before. DDoS attacks like this are easy for any script kiddie to set up, so it's not weird that they'd go for a smaller target like this.

Honestly this group of posers probably just wants money, everybody. They sent AO3 a ransom note asking for Bitcoin (and just in case people don't know, do not pay a ransom if at all possible if this ever happens to you).

My advice to people who've noticed this attack is two-fold: calm down since this is part of a larger pattern that has literally resulted in basically no loss for the end-user of any of the sites, and... I don't really know a better way to put this, but don't believe everything you read. A religiously-motivated hate group wouldn't use terms like "LGBTQ+" and "smuts," and it's so blatantly obvious that the timing of every single one of these attacks is being used to smear Muslims and Sudanese people if you think about current events for like. One second. And if you look up Anonymous Sudan, you'll see their string of attacks and how all experts know that they have nothing to do with Sudan at all. Even AO3 itself told everybody that the group is lying about their motivations... though I think I'd go further than that personally because even their name itself is almost certainly a total sham.

To be clear: this post isn't targeted at anyone in particular. I've just seen a lot of people falling for this overall or not realizing this is part of a pattern, and I also wanted to remind everyone that this isn't anything to be concerned about. What is something to be concerned about is not doing research or thinking critically and then unwittingly spreading racist ideas.

[hedgehog-moss]

I volunteered to help the florist with her Mother's Day deliveries today, it was fun! My favourite parts of the experience:

early this morning I delivered flowers to women who were busy with morning farm chores, usually out in the barn; some had forgotten it was Mother's Day and were pleasantly surprised to see me show up holding a bunch of flowers above my head (so it wouldn't get eaten by barn animals on the way)

speaking of: one woman let a cow smell the flowers, then said "they're probably treated with chemicals—better not have a taste" with an apologetic look (at her cow)

a little boy opened the door at one point and I said, flowers for your mum! and he called her and while waiting for her to come downstairs, he said, "I learnt a Mother's Day poem at school", so I said, let's hear it! And apparently he hadn't expected that, and he lit up upon realising he would get higher returns on his poem investment than expected. He thought he'd recited it once and it was over but here was a fresh new audience!

a woman whom I found at the back of her garden hanging out with ducks deplored the fact that she didn't have a coin in her pocket for a tip, then said "Do you want to see my baby pigeons?" Yes of course I want to see your baby pigeons. That's a good tip

I delivered a bouquet to someone and a woman next door, who was in her garden, turned to the open window of her house and said, "[Neighbour's name] got flowers! For MOTHER'S DAY."

I later had to return to that street after a last-minute order was placed to this woman's address. Whomever she was talking to inside the house got the message loud and clear :)

at one point I entered a barn that seemed empty (except for cows), said "Is anyone here?" and a goat SPRUNG UP out of nowhere and poked me with her hoof and gave me a heart attack

I returned to the shop and the florist let me pick a couple of plants as thanks, and we had the usual conversation—"Would this cheerful yellow plant thrive in my house?" "No. Your house is under 10°C. Try this one instead." Me: "This one isn't yellow :( It's more austere" Her: "So is your house" (She entered my non-heated kitchen in December once, and ever since I've been trying to convince her that it's not always like that) (just six months per year)

as I sat in the shop waiting for more bouquets to deliver, a man came in to buy roses and the florist started wrapping a ribbon around the bunch and the man asked, could you put a ribbon around each rose? I said aw they're for several mums? :) And he said yeah—that he was going to visit his mum at the retirement home and he wanted to get something "for all her friends too, why not!" It made everyone smile

admiring the florist's skill as she quickly put together a bouquet for a new order, I said something like "at least AI won't steal your job" and she said "with quantum computing, you don't know... not sure what it is but I read an article and it sounded scary." I said, I heard it's still impractical because the quantum computer particles need to be kept in very cold environments, like close to absolute zero, and she said "Quantum plants would thrive in your house."

Florist: "I'll accompany you for this delivery because the person who filled the form gave a 'turn left after the third mossy rock'-type of address"

I was invited at her house for lunch, and I asked warily "Does your husband still have swans?" She said "No, we only kept the geese. We have just 3. They're evil too but not as bad as the swans"

one of my favourite interactions was when I delivered flowers in a hamlet that could fit in my pocket, and a young girl who came to the door asked me in what village I lived, and I said, it's not a village, just a lone house in the woods, and she sighed "I wish I could live away from civilisation." I looked around us. Asked, how many people live in this village? She said, "Sixty." I said, "That's too many?" She said, "Yeah."

Final stats for today: I was offered a coffee 4 times, Mother's Day chocolates 2 times, and 1 meeting with baby pigeons; was startled by 1 goat and terrorised by 3 geese; petted 2 windowsill cats, and was asked if Pampérigouste was currently in her pasture 4 times.

[kettlefire]

Booo-merang Trouble DP x DC Idea

Okay but leeching off the idea that Jason gives off an ecto-signature, and I probably saw a post about this somewhere. I just for the love of me can't find it. If anyone knows it, please link it so I can credit!:

Jason isn't even on patrol, he's visiting the manor. His chilling, eating away at lunch. He doesn't come to the manor often, but he always needs a dose of his crazy family every once in a while. There's no way he'd stay away from Alred's cookies for long.

Then boom, something shatters the window behind him. On instinct, Jason moves. Taking cover and trying to get a sight of the situation. Of the perceived attack. However, before Jason could do much a heavy object rams into his chest before landing on the ground before him. It doesn't really hurt, nothing compared to his prior injuries.

A boomerang. A glowing green and silver boomerang laid on the ground before him. Jason's a million and one ways confused as he stared at the device. His hands carefully picking it up, and looking over the softly beeping device.

Jason thinks maybe it's a bomb, but something in his gut says otherwise. He can think of a million different things it could be. Maybe one of the rogues got a hold of their DNA, and it tracked them. Maybe it's going to expel a gas any moment, an attack on the Waynes rather than their vigilante personas.

Except it's none of that. The beeping stops and suddenly a robotic voice sounds from the boomerang.

"Ghost located, prepare for your end ghoul."

Jason tenses once again at the clear threat in those words. His gaze scans around the kitchen, still crouched behind the kitchen counter. Except nothing happens.

Except for a voice ringing out from the boomerang once again. This time, this time it's not a robot. It's a clear record of a young woman speaking. Her voice filled with fear, concern, and urgency.

"Okay, this should work right? You know what, that doesn't matter. No one but you should have a signature. Beside's Tucker thinks he set this up to go to you only. So Danny, you should be hearing this..."

Jason only finds himself more confused. The urgency in this girl's voice was enough to keep his nerves on edge. It sounded important, but Jason had no clue who these people are. Who these names could be refering to.

"Danny... Things here aren't doing to good. Look, I know why you left. You have every reason to. What mom and dad did... It's unforgivable and I don't expect you to come back. But, thing is..."

There's a lull in the recording. The distant sound of soft chatting. If Jason strained his ears, he could somewhat pick of the sound of another woman and man.

"Everyone thinks Phantom is dead. Which I would think is a good thing, but it's not. Danny, the GIW is on a rampage now that you aren't here. Mom and dad are on their side..."

Jason made the conclusion that the speaker was this Danny's sister. The message was intended for him, yet it somehow landed in Jason's lap.

"They have everyone locked up in the school... Radars to see if anyone has a signature, and if they do... They separate them from everyone else."

Jason's brows furrowed, finally pulling himself to a stand. He placed the boomerang on the kitchen counter. Leaning forward as he took in the words.

"We don't know what they are doing. Sam, Tucker, and Valerie... We're all hiding. We'll have the highest signatures, and... Listen Danny..."

Jason had a growing pit in his gut. He knew something wasn't right. These people were in danger. It didn't matter he didn't know about what, or who the GIW was, but these people needed help.

"... We need you. We need Phantom, baby bro. I'm sorry, I know you're still recovering. We can handle things here, but please. Please tell me you're still alive, you're in Gotham right? Tell me you're safe, and you're healing and still kicking Danny."

Jason swallowed, placing his hands flat on the kitchen counter. He needed to get this down to the cave. Have the computer tracked where it came from. But Jason couldn't move, not at the sound of pure desperation in this woman's voice.

"I just need to know you at least made it out of this nightmare. I don't care how you do it, just please let me know things are okay... They have... They have Vlad, Danny. Things are complicated, and I hate to put this on you... But Amity needs Phantom..."

The recorded suddenly broke into static, but Jason thinks he got enough of what he needed. Amity. The place these people were was called Amity. It gave him a lead, something for them to work with.

"Da... We... Help... They..."

Jason could hear the woman's voice breaking through the static. He gripped the boomerang, turning on his heels and heading towards the cave.

"Sam... Mom... Tech... I..."

Every broken word only fueled Jason's own urgency. Jason felt a strange urge, a connection. Something that told him he had to help. They needed to help. The boomerang found him, and that had to mean something.

"... I love you, Danny..."

Those four words were the clearest compared to rhe rest of it. It made Jason's heart seize, and he took a breath. He was going to help.

It didn't matter if Jason didn't know these people. If they weren't from Gotham. This was important, and something told Jason he needed to find this Danny.

Danny would be the only one that would know that to do. If Jason manages to rewind the recording, he was certain Bruce would be equally on board.

That voice, the emotions that dripped from it. It gave the sense that this wasn't just life or death. This was a world ending problem.

And Jason would be damned if he ignored it.

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Just Friends (König x F!Reader)

How to Escape the Friendzone 2/4 (Word count 5.3 k)

Summary: König is a horny, creepy killing machine obsessed with a shy, kind reader who has a raging knife kink.

Tags/warnings: 🔞 Eventual smut, eventual violence, angst, dark romance, canon divergence. Crack treated seriously. Yandere undertones, implied stalking, panty stealing, major character death, size kink, voyeurism, possessive sex, twisted, fluffy feelings. Loner boy/gentle girl dynamic. Protective!Obsessive!Top!König. Reader works as a cleaner at the base. She is described to have hair and prefers to wear dresses off work. Not safe or sane but mostly consensual.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Massive arms go about her as she's pulled against a lean chest. It's an awkward, tense hug. He smells of open air and coppice, with a whiff of acrid sweat on top as she lays her head somewhere between the bumps of muscle of a warm chest.

Not even the body heat makes him appear more human: his heart is not pounding as fast as she thought it would after making it clear he would score some tonight.

She fears she's dealing with a sociopath. Might even be a psychopath.

"Are you still afraid?"

"I don't know." Her breaths are everything but steady as she inhales the intoxicating scent of a madman.

"Don't be scared. I will only hurt those who wish to hurt you."

His pledge renders her weak; it makes her legs shake. She gets far more than she bargained for when pulling him in to give her a little late-night comfort.

Friends with benefits is a situation bad enough, but this is not okay. The guy's fixation seems boundless, and if she tries to wriggle out of this… relationship and starts seeing someone else, it might end up in König scrubbing the potential future love interest's guts off his shoes.

And something in the idea isn't even wholly appalling.

Good God…

"I don't want you to hurt anyone," she whispers like it isn't his day-to-day job – to hurt and kill people. She is on the verge of collapsing to the floor and stays upright only because he holds her in authoritarian embrace.

"Little angel, it's what I do." He releases her only enough to bow his head and look into her eyes. His stare betrays slight distaste. Those eyes are calm mirrors of how can someone be so naive.

"You come to me if someone is mean to you," he orders in a stern voice that makes her feel faint.

"Alright," she breathes a fluent little lie. He's satisfied with her answer, however, and presses her head back against him with effortless control.

She imagines him knifing someone with a listless stare from sparing a glance her way; she fantasizes him strangling some chauvinistic moron in the darkness after they have been "mean" to her. Quickening breaths betray her sick thoughts to him because he pulls her even closer. She can feel the enormous cock pressing against her body with a promise of violence.

"Angel… I wish you would stop teasing me."

"Yeah?" Her laugh is restrained, and her heart is racing inside her chest – like it's some kind of a good idea to have a heart attack while a murderous psycho turning into a boyfriend is in the same room with her. "Where's the fun in that…?"

"Do you always tease men like this?"

"No," she swallows a mouthful of woodland and musk. "Just you."

"Hm."

"König… Can I see your face?"

The man finally seems to find his reserve again. He detaches from her, and she can hear the audible gulp inside the hood.

"Maybe later."

He shifts his weight from one foot to the other like he usually does when he's a bit nervous. Probably to ease the discomfort from still being forced into those pants with such an astoundingly large, swelling erection, too.

She can't come up with anything that might explain why the man is so uncomfortable with showing his face. From the small glimpse she saw in the showers, everything looked completely normal. There is some other reason why he wants to wear the mask, most likely some mental block, and she would simply have to wait until he's ready and willing to take it off.

"How about a kiss?"

He doesn't shake his head or escape her as she hesitantly steps toward him and raises a hand to the hem of his hood.

"If I just…"

He does nothing as she starts to raise the mask. The look in his eyes is somewhat haunted, though.

She lifts it just enough to reveal a clean-shaven chin and a pair of thin, tightly shut lips. She briefly notices that there's a scar on his jaw before his mouth opens to call her in. They're polar opposites of each other: she feels breathless and limp when their lips meet while he's a statue of rigid power. Even his mouth is tense as she catches his bottom lip between hers and tries to soften that immortal stiffness. Distant notes of hops catch her tongue just before he pulls her back into a crushing hug.

The guy is not the most perfect kisser. He's very avid, though. In fact, his eagerness is what makes it a scary experience, what makes the kiss clumsy. He smashes his lips on hers with force, then opens his mouth so wide she fears he will devour half her face.

The ungloved hands slide down her back and cup her ass. He's gentle, but she still feels like she's levitating, half an inch above the ground from his groping. He moans like they are already having sex, but before she can disconnect herself from the violent kiss, he does it for her.

"I want to fuck you," he pants across her lips, eyes half-lidded and drunk. "Can I fuck you?"

The man has no conception of how to dance these dances. He simply declares his wish to shove his junk inside her and kill those who might do her harm. She feels dizzy in his arms, like dew that will evaporate under too much heat.

"Yeah, yes," she tries to sound sane, although there's nothing sane about this.

So much for being just friends or being nothing at all…

Her heart is beating faster and faster; it wants to rend itself out of her chest. She feels ample sweat between her thighs, then realizes it's only her own wetness that has broken through the cotton of her underwear. The dress is so tight in the middle that she can't simply try and throw it over her head, and the buttons at the front seem to have suddenly become too big to slip through the holes.

He doesn't take any of his clothes off while watching her undress. The instant she opens her whimsical veil of blooms, he moves close and shoves the fabric down her shoulders so that it drops sadly on the floor. Then he flicks a knife out.

Shit… Shit what the fuck–

"No–Don't–!"

The blade is forced with a flat surface under the middle of her bra. He pulls the fabric away, turns the blade - it's a miracle she's not bleeding by the time he cuts through the center front like it's butter. Her breasts fall free, and the destroyed lingerie hangs cheaply on the side before it gets dragged away too. She looks at his work, her exposed tits and the crude, fat knife he swiftly returns to its sheath.

"That was my favorite br–ah…"

The man is terrifying, even when he sinks to his knees. He dives for her breasts, licks the undersides and sucks her nipples like he's famished. Her head rolls back, and she feels fainter still as he gropes her like she's his toy, chews a nipple until she shudders and cries in pain. Then he goes down, down, panting hot breaths on her skin as he goes, the hood grazing and tickling her skin.

His hands shake slightly as he tears down the last piece of covering fabric from between her legs. She can't even step out of the briefs before a blazing tongue is pushed to her clit, all but delicately.

Perhaps he's not a virgin, but he's not a veteran, either – still, it draws a filthy moan out of her.

She has to take support from his head to prevent herself from falling when the tongue simply forces its way between her legs. It curls to meet her folds, slick with her wet. She knows she's practically leaking at this point, and hears how he licks his lips.

"Of course the angel tastes like heaven too," he rasps in her mound, sounding rather… bitter. Almost annoyed.

She thinks it's only the beginning, but he suddenly rises like a Kraken from the sea, like a Godzilla about to destroy an entire city.

"Get on the bed. All fours."

She chokes the whimper that tries to escape her, then turns and crawls onto the bed as if they are running out of time. His urgency is hers now, and she presents herself to him, waiting for the man to thrust in without remorse, but it's his mouth she feels first.

"Uh–Oh my god…"

He licks her with a flat tongue, torturously slow while she's on display. They're long, profound sweeps, as if he wants to sample her rather than give her pleasure. Although he does give her an immense amount of it.

She falls on her elbows, face down on the bed, exposing more of herself to him in the process. Her pussy has been neglected for so long that the feel of his hot tongue on her is absolutely breathtaking, thigh-shaking. She pushes herself back a little, lets him taste his own medicine for once.

And of course it only makes him more unhinged.

"You're wet like a…" he laughs a short, dry laugh straight into her folds, and she finally whimpers at the sound. "You want it so bad?"

"Yes…?"

It's a sad little confession but more than enough for him. He freezes behind her, and something in the way the air shifts tells her he has risen and is now standing high above her as she's in this crudely vulnerable position.

"I've made you wet this whole time?"

She snivels, opens her eyes, closes them…

"Yes," she sobs in the bed, nearly topples, but he grabs her ass and keeps her in place.

"Ach du lieber Himmel…"

She pants and cries in the sheets, but the sobering silence lasts only for so long.

The sound of a belt being opened shoots her skin full of goosebumps. Only a few seconds later, the fat tip of his cock is swept across her folds: it probes for a second, then slides in.

"A-ah–"

"Scheiße… So tight…"

He hisses and goes all the way in – the journey is long and torturous as he stretches her wide. The thickness only grows at the base, his balls are already tight as they arrive to press against her.

And mercy is not at the top of his list as he realizes she has denied her need and therefore, his. He starts to sail inside her, back and forth, in and out, like it's his job, too. It's total torture. She might just pass out before this is over.

"You little tease…" He seizes control of her hips while using her as his own personal fleshlight. The noise of wet, slick fucking is deafening. The pace is upped soon, and he has to use strength to hold her in place while ramming her from standing while she tries to hold on for her dear life and hold onto the sheets.

"Not so fast, König," she whimpers into her pillow, but he won't listen. The pace is frantic, and his thrusts are deep; he fucks her with despair, with anguish-driven, starved thrusts born from greed.

Nothing has ever felt so good, nothing.

"Just friends, eh?"

She has a hard time deciphering whether he is happy or mad. His voice is pitchy, and she knows, she just knows that he sounds equally as unglued on his missions. Perhaps that's why people rarely talk to him.

"Don't–don't be angry…"

"No? Say that you want me," he commands somewhere behind her, desperation coating the air with pungent sweat and musky arousal. "Say it–say it–"

"I want you," she finally cries, and it feels like an absolution. An amnesty. Remission of sin.

There's panting and frantic sound of slaps of flesh against flesh behind her. The air all around is pure electricity. It makes her quiver and throb and squeeze: him, the sheets, anything and everything.

"I will bring you flowers every morning and fuck you every night. Ja?"

His length is the only thing she can focus on; all else dissolves into a hazy mist. The cock glides in her like he's oiling a gun part, and he could ask her to kill someone and she would only say–

"Yes, yes."

He slides in and out with less and less control, moans and grunts with every thrust now. She's already past the point of no return, even though the orgasm keeps hovering right beyond her reach. She only needs a few more minutes. Or maybe just one...

"König… Not...so–fast…"

He answers something in German, an annoyed string of words she has no clue what they mean. He's probably just swearing profoundly.

"Get...what you deserve..."

That's the only thing she can flesh out from the English that follows. He finally finds some mercy with a choked groan and tries to slow down a little. It's even worse when he does that. He pulls almost completely out, then sinks back in, agonizingly lazy, and that does it: the full length of his giant cock slipping inside her without effort makes her walls clench.

"Oh God…" Her back is arching, her toes are curling, a tight cry disappears somewhere in the pillow, and he won't stop with the – "Oh–fuck–!"

"Yeah," he cheers her on as she screams, cries in the sheets while his cock swims in her. His hands dig into her hips, and she barely has brains left to think it might leave bruises. The orgasm comes in waves, shakes, and he won't let go even when she's only a heap of throbbing, soaking flesh and rapture.

And it's not the end; quite the contrary. He continues to fuck her with abandon: balls slap against her with every jab; they must be covered in her juice at this point, making the sound of sloppy thrusts utterly obscene. She's able to stay in a face-down, ass-up position only because he's holding her there for his cock.

The grunts turn into a wide, thick groan as he approaches the edge as well. The pace slows down almost to a halt before he comes.

"Jetzt…kommt–" he groans through gritted teeth, voice all taut while he grinds through his release. It's a multitude of deep, oddly paced thrusts, a sad attempt to get everything he can, and she's still like a wet gulf sucking him in.

The last throes are sluggish, the madness starts to pass, and she feels like every bone has left her body. There is nothing solid left when the man slowly relents and settles somewhere deep inside her. She can hear how he pants with his mouth open, and it sounds painful, wet, almost drooly. Then he swallows with a breathless gulp, slips out, and lets her go.

She immediately falls forward - topples, crashes, crawls on the bed, tries to rearrange what's left.

Just friends...

Yep.

He crashes somewhere beside her, spent and out of breath. The front of his shirt is covered in sweat; the air is filled with the stale scent of musk and saline sweat and pure, mad sex. She can barely catch a glimpse of the slick, glistening length of him. It feels like a miracle that this thing has been inside her. It’s not that it’s monstrously thick: it’s simply long, curving a little to the side, lean and aggressive even when growing soft.

"You play with fire, Engel. Why did you make me wait so long?"

The masked killer beside her is panting but satisfied for now, and turns his head to look at her. She has to muster all her courage to look back.

"I'm…a bit shy."

"You're perfect," he declares while watching her in her sex daze and ruin. So, at least he's not angry. He finally looks… normal, even with that absurd hood still on, with that intoxicated, admiring stare in his eyes. The ice in his blues has turned into melting snow.

"I noticed you the minute I arrived here."

She can't prevent a hand from reaching out at that, from splaying fingers over his chest.

"I noticed you too," she whispers back before moving closer to snuggle him. His heart is finally thumping in his chest, right under her cheek – from the late exercise or their closeness, she can't tell. A heavy arm goes around her, pressing her further into the nook of his armpit.

"You remind me of one of my knives," he says while holding her close.

Oh good God…

"You are a butterfly knife girl."

"Oh?"

"Ja. Small and cute and a lot of fun. And I can't get enough of you."

So much for getting rid of the man after getting some d. God, what was wrong with her? Any other woman would have put up some boundaries, perhaps gotten a restraining order by now.

"Is it… a good knife?" Her voice comes out as an annoying squeal, and he pulls her closer, ever closer.

"I mainly use it for playing."

She wets her lips in an attempt to calm herself, to comfort herself. She’s just another plaything for a murderer whose hunger seems endless, even if he’s more civil now. Still, she fears this man is only after sex and violence. Her little dresses and petite lingerie won't stand a chance against such brutality.

"What knife are you…?"

"Classic Glock field knife. Tall and ugly."

Behind the thin veil of indifference, there's pride. It borders on arrogance. She catches a dash of bitterness, too: field knives don't pair well with butterflies, perhaps.

"König, you're not ugly," she breaks their odd cuddle to look at him. "This sounds like a trustworthy knife to me."

He looks back at her with an even warmer tinge to the glacier of his eyes.

"It is. You cannot hope for a more loyal blade."

Her gaze drops somewhere in the darkness of his shirt. He's pledging himself for the second time to her, and it causes another storm inside her head. There's warmth on her cheeks, too.

"You are cute when you blush," he observes with pleased tranquility.

Perhaps... Perhaps he doesn't want to hurt things he finds cute.

Perhaps he will take care of them, like he takes care of his knives.

It still takes some getting used to that he allows his hood to be lifted just enough to push his tongue inside her mouth or pussy but taking it off to show his face is too much. She is lying there with him in an odd post-coital dream, thoroughly naked while he's still fully dressed. But she doesn't feel cold, not when pressed against his blazing form like this.

"Did you nick my underwear?" She asks out of the blue, and the hand stroking her waist stops in the middle of an idle caress.

"I might have," he admits without a single ounce of remorse in his voice.

"König… That's not cool," she says, knowing he can hear the lack of scolding in her voice.

"You want them back?"

"I… Gosh. Yes, that would be nice."

What a pervert.

"Or... Nevermind. Keep them," she sighs, trying to brush off the fact that the underwear in question wasn't even clean. "Do you steal women's underwear often?"

"No. Just yours."

A laugh meant to convey her shock is far too laced with joy to make it clear that she finds his deeds preposterous. She simply fails at every turn in trying to express that she's a decent woman. He knows it now, probably saw it long ago; that she's the perfect cheval glass to his perversions.

The hand on her hips moves to caress her thigh, and the drowsy stare observes her with growing mischief.

"Ready to go again?"

"Whuh–Again…?"

He takes her hand and moves it right over his cock. It's lean and demanding, and pulses under her palm.

Tall and ugly, she thinks while her walls dare to throb with hunger.

"You make me hard," he says, almost as a whisper, "all the time."

Jesus… There was definitely no rulebook when it came to this guy.

She gets to watch from the bed how he gives her a show as the man finally decides it's time to take his clothes off. The shirt is the first one to go: it flies somewhere on the floor while he holds on to his hood. The sculpted muscle looks even bigger up close, and the plates are covered with thin hair. It runs thicker below the navel, and his thighs are pure power: they surround the sleek length of his cock like trunks of strength when he finally gets himself out of those pants.

The v-shape of his upper body is something she will never get over. Broad shoulders shrink and curve into narrow hips which in turn swell into powerful thighs, and while perhaps this guy wouldn't win the gold medal at a fitness competition – judged by the way he's lean and athletic but not low fat ripped – he certainly is the most beautiful man she has ever had the pleasure to lay eyes on. He's a demigod with his herculean strength, a titan who's too big for the world of mortals. A tormented Samson who will never be tamed with treachery or tricks.

The bed sags as he crawls back to her like the gentlest predator. Her legs open wide to receive him – a classic missionary feels like the most intimate choice after the faceless pounding she received earlier. He gathers her legs as he proceeds: forces them up, up, almost next to her arms until he's hovering over her exposed pussy.

She should've known that some boring missionary wouldn't satisfy this man at all.

Her eyes drop to her legs and what's between them: she's in no position to do much of anything, but as the tip of his cock – smooth, pristine velvet – slides across her wet folds once more, she rather helplessly tries to drive her hips up to meet him.

It's like she's drunk or in a dream. The scene is wild and filthy: she's plump and spread open, ready for the taking, thighs almost in her ears as he draws his hips back and finds her opening.

"Please be gentle," she begs with a whisper. He halts for a while to lock gazes with her rabbit stare.

"You are pretty when you beg, little one. But I would never hurt you."

She swallows, and her lips part – his gaze instantly falls on her mouth, then raises back to her eyes, gentle and painstakingly ardent. He's close, so terribly close – and not just physically. Her thighs quiver with anticipation as the thick velvet slides in.

Holy fuck–

She savors the spread, and he's gentle, like he promised. The groan that erupts from inside the hood above makes her walls ache. He's so merciful this time, and she wishes to lift the black veil that still keeps them apart, to see his face as he takes her, to see that scar on his jaw and how his mouth hangs open with hunger, just like hers…

His cock comes out all wet – she can hear it – before plunging right back in, and it makes her mewl.

"Oh God…" Her eyes shut tight from the sensation of being so filled. She's even more starved than she thought. It's scary, far scarier than the mass murderer above and inside her.

"You like that?"

He's breathing heavy, and she knows he's looking at her, the distorting face of pleasure, the way she's biting her lip. Tears try to force themselves out from the passionate, featherbrained proximity, from being so tightly knitted together, like a bunch of happy, overstimulated nerves.

"Look at me," he orders, and she opens her eyes like they're under his command and not hers.

"You like it like this?"

She nods with tears in her eyes, and he won't stop looking at her like she's his most prized possession.

"Gut. I will make you scream again."

The man's dreamy stare follows every twitch of a lip, every bat of an eyelash. She looks down briefly to escape that love – the sight of the long thickness disappearing in her while she is so crudely open for him makes her feel dizzy, even when she's lying down.

Some pillow princess…

"Sehr schön," he comments while watching her face which must look like that of a dumb, anesthetized doll. His cock has that effect, and now that he's hovering over her, staring into her soul while filling her, it makes everything even more painful because it's sweet. She's under lazy waves, and decent men seem the most boring thing on earth right now.

"You like my knives?"

"Ah–what…?"

"You stared when I played with my knife."

She knows he has caught her staring more than once and bites her lip again not to blurt out how she had stared when he had played with... other things as well.

"Mh, yeah… It was beautiful."

"You're beautiful."

The sudden waves of intimacy leave her fragile and weak. His stare is nothing short of a caress. She is open and helpless for him to pound to his heart's content, but he's gentle, bordering on loving...

"I can teach you how to play with them."

Jesus Christ, this dude is just crazy.

"Uh-huh," she agrees to it with her mouth hanging open from the overload of sensation. The lewd sound of his cum pushing out of her with every thrust is an obscene background music for this – or any – conversation.

"I have a collection."

Why the hell would he be talking about his knife collection in the middle of–

"I own at least fifty knives. I can show you all of them if you come to my room."

His gaze is at least as piercing as his cock, and she realizes how serious this is: knives are his life. He finds them beautiful too, he collects them and cares for them. They're a profession, but they're also the most important thing in his world.

Knives are his essence.

And he had likened her to a butterfly knife...

"S-sure."

The sound from where they are joined rises to a sluggish crescendo: drowsy, filthy claps of flesh on soaked flesh. He makes her sick and well at the same time: he drags her to hell and raises her to heaven. He's the remedy and the curse. He plays with her like he plays with his knives: ravenous, entranced, obsessed.

She tries to concentrate on too many things at once: that intoxicating voice, the memory of him playing with death, the cock plunging inside her over and over again, making warmth pool below. She imagines him killing people with his collection, picking his tool for the day. He's not the only lunatic here because even the very thought makes her tight around him.

"You are close?"

"König… Just–" she whispers on the cusp of a deeper, soul-rending orgasm.

"You like it when I talk about knives?"

She breathes laboriously and tries to hang onto the last bits of her sanity, but he knows her, knows her already. He weighs down on her until her thighs come to rest right next to her breasts. He's plowing her in a crude angle, indecent and deep. It's vulgar, and she loves it; loves the way he stares at her, all helpless under him.

"Please, I'm gonna–"

"I can show you my guns too."

Ohmygod–

"I'm gonn–ah–!"

She shatters, her walls clench; her pussy sucks him like he's hard candy.

“Sieh dir das an… You were made for me.”

"Nh– Please…"

Her head tosses on the pillow as if in a dream. She's fathomless, and going to pass out, the cock inside her makes her eyes roll back in her head until she sees white, the color of saints.

"Shy girl… Beg for it."

The voice that answers his command is not that of a shy girl; it's not hers at all. She hears it from underwater, and her reality consists solely of the man filling her, spreading her, transforming her from an angel into something deliciously wicked.

Please, just–

It's not her voice, and yet it does sound everything like her. It begs, mewls a plea after the other in a string of helpless little whimpers.

Don't stop, please pleaseplease…

"Besser als jedes Messer…" he rasps, more darkly now. "You drive me crazy, Engel."

A chant arises in her head: she has sinned and there's no turning back. He feels far better than any promise of heaven. She could never have guessed that being cast out would feel so good.

His release comes with a tight rip, he goes taut like in that shower, only ten times more desperate. The hiss under the hood turns into a pained, strained roar of a grunt. The first time was foreplay, a quick one: this is true release. She almost hopes she would faint as the whole body of the Austrian titan goes hard as a rock. She couldn't be more spent and used, and still, her pussy answers his godly essence by clenching around him, pulling him in like he's the best man there is.

The man of her dreams, the man from her worst nightmares...

His eyes are liquid, the waterline twitches. She sees behind the walls, a millisecond's worth of fragility before his head drops, and the muscles are released from the violent trance. Broad shoulders cage her in like she's suddenly deep inside a mountain pass. Spent and dead and gone, there's no hurry any longer: he is buried deep inside and throbs whatever leftovers he has to give her.

She's filled to the brim, crushed under his weight, banished: and it's only delicious, the feeling of her body disappearing somewhere in the depths of the bed he has plowed her into. She waits dutifully as the man gathers himself, even gets brave enough to touch him. The masked face is buried somewhere in her neck, and his stomach ripples with a few shivers as her hand runs down his spine.

"I want to do this every day," he declares softly while panting through the thick fabric of his self-made shield. She feels pure horror and thrill in her chest.

To do this every day… She will eventually break, like a toy that has been used too much. She's not made of steel like those butterfly knives used mainly for playing.

"König, this is crazy… We're crazy," she tries to put into words the unholy mess raging inside her. He snorts before releasing her from the absurd position. The weight of him leaves her empty as he pulls out, then drags his way beside her to gather her back into his arms.

"Don't be ashamed, little one," he coos through the mask. "You don't have to pretend with me."

Two rounds of intense sex have liberated him, the manic terror has turned into a strange compassion. The look in his eyes is magnanimous and tender, almost droopy. She feels weightless and timid, an angel once more.

"We belong together, you and I," he states with conviction that sends sweet dread inside her heart. "Don't worry. You will never be lonely again."

Her fate is sealed, and she fears a big, fat knife will cut her heartstrings too if she tries to escape his protection. Her jaw trembles at the prospect of him returning to her every day to fuck her bare after an adrenaline high on the field. She sees a future of tears and sweat and cum, a beast lulled into sleep amidst a withering sea of flowers and torn lace.

She tries to find the right words, hopes he will be swift and merciful in his execution.

König, please…

It's not the hood, it's–

"Everyone fears me," he sighs beside her. "I'm glad you don't."

[booty-uprooter]

some tips on how to make bosses easier if youre feeling theyre too hard:

play a ranged physical dps class. that way you can hang back to keep an eye on the arena and what the boss is doing without having to worry about needing to stand still long enough to complete an induction

on that note, inductions are considered finished before the bar is full. you can usually move right before it fills and still have it go off, but it takes some trial and error to figure out how close you can cut it

move your ui around. my own life was made immeasurably easier when i put the target right above my hotbar so i wouldnt have to pay attention to both the top and bottom of the screen at the same time, but try stuff out and see what works best for you

the best time to mitigate an attack is right before the boss finishes casting it. the second best time is as soon as the mit becomes available, every time it becomes available

use addle and feint. you almost never see these used in casual content and it's a waste because they really are extremely useful skills at any level

use arm's length and surecast. there are some knockbacks they dont work on but those are rare. if you know youre gonna get pushed, use these and you probably won't get pushed

take advantage of duty support. the npcs know the mechanics. watch them and let them teach you

particle effects cant hurt you (usually). with the exception of puddles that stay on the ground for a while or layered stacks like akh morn, as long as youre not standing on the marker when it disappears (or are if it's a stack), you're in the clear. feel free to move through the animation if necessary. more and more mechanics require you to do so to be in position for the next one in time

it's usually fine to let spread markers overlap. just, yknow, make sure another person isnt in yours (though its the responsibility of anyone without a spread to keep themselves out of harms way)

when in doubt, ask your party members. it's extremely rare to match with a group of randos and have everyone be a first-timer. most players are happy to help, and the ones that know the mechanics but are bad at explaining them will usually just stick a marker on themselves (usually a triangle) for you to follow

read your tool tips. boss fights are as much a test of how well you know your class as they are your ability to read and react to mechanics. unless youre playing a healer or paladin, youre going to use your entire kit, so make sure you know what everything does

on that note, freecure is a scam. once you get cure ii/benefic ii, you will never need cure or benefic again. keep them on your hotbar for when you get synced content if you wish, but otherwise you do not need them. do not use them

if you play multiple classes, try to keep skills that do the same/similar things at the same spot on your hotbar. this isn't always possible bc despite what some may claim, not all classes of the same type are actually identical, but it will save you a lot of headaches

entirely new and unique mechanics are rare to the point of being nigh nonexistent. everything is a remix of something else and practicing in lower level content can actually be a big help

look up guides. the internet is full of them in pretty much whatever form works best for you (though they can be of admittedly variable quality)

turn down party effects. theyre on one of the tabs under character configuration > controls. if you put them on minimum you can still see heals and such but you wont have your screen constantly full of explosions

turn on target health percentage. this one is under character configuration > ui. it lets you better see how close the boss is to going down

make summons smaller. we all love titan's ass but not when it's the only thing you can see. "/petsize all small" will make this problem go away

relax and have fun. panicking leads to mistakes, which can lead to worse mistakes. if you need to take a second to breathe, do so. your party members probably wont mind waiting a minute or two between pulls

[cod-fishing]

New allies or new enemies (fools, all of them) assume when interacting with the 141 that Ghost is the unit’s attack dog. And those that get close enough to start reading into their team dynamic often assume that one Soap MacTavish must hold the leash, despite their difference in rank. After all, the Sergeant is the only one who seems to ever get close to the hulking Ghost, more monster than man. They assume this because they think someone has to. After all, a beast can’t keep himself on the lead.

But what they could never anticipate with their little pea brains is this - Ghost is in complete control. Sure, he postures, and he wears his mask, meant to ward off anyone who would even think of getting close. But the mask is as much of a target as it is a tool for his isolation. For every 10 men who steer clear, there’s one who picks a fight just cause he’s the biggest, scariest guy they’ve ever seen. And so he honestly has learned to keep his cool. To turn the other cheek. To know when it’s important to fight, and when it’s better to just let posturing idiots be posturing idiots.

Soap, however.

He’s young, and he’s strong, and he has a painfully endearing golden-retriever sense of justice. He has no idea how to back down when the fight isn't worth it, to him it's always worth it.

And the only one who he'll listen to, the only person on the planet who can call off his bite is Ghost. When Soap bristles at some rando bothering a girl in a bar, ready to start swinging, it's Ghost that steps in with a cool word instead, stopping the fight before it starts. It’s Ghost who puts a hand on Soap’s back when he can feel him tense, teeth barred, it’s Ghost who calls Soap back to the present with a quiet hey, not now. And miraculously, Soap listens.

He holds the lead. He always has.

And when people underestimate them, when they’re unprepared for Ghost’s patience and even less prepared for Soap’s bite, they feel the wrath of Ghost’s attack dog, let loose.

Ghost likes that he can call Johnny back in, but he likes letting him free even more.

[charnelhouse]

Hey babe….Just putting this out into the charniverse. That lil side descriptor you put in the ghost fic about him licking reader to tears. If you ever wanna uh….give us a clearer picture of that —I’m sure the class would have absolutely No complaints 👉👈

A/N: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader. Hurt/Comfort. Soap is nosy. This became something else.

When they find Red, Ghost's back goes rigid. Soap has never seen his Lieutenant freeze when they’re in the field. It’s mid-mission. Time is ticking. 

But shit’s gone south. 

Even without seeing Ghost’s face, it’s apparent that her distress has rocked him with the same force as a bullet. He appears momentarily stunned as he stares down at Red. She's in shock, clamping her hands over her belly where blood has drenched the stiff fabric of her suit. Sweat beads her hairline. Utter agony carved into her features. They’d heard her over the coms. She’d been attacked by a leftover hostile. She’d screamed, and Ghost hadn’t hesitated. He'd run.

“Simon,” she whimpers, and he jerks before bolting forward. His giant black boots reverberate over the cement as he swings his gun behind him so he can tend to her. The enormous man crouches low, knees popping. 

“You’re alright,” Ghost says in a low coaxing voice. He gently pulls her wrist away from the growing dark stain. She whines, wrenching her hand back to her belly, desperate to stem the blood flow. “Duchess,” he murmurs. “Let me see it.”

“It’s bad,” she whispers. “Ghost - it’s-it’s not good.”

“Let me look at it,” he urges. “I can’t help you if I don’t know.”

Red grimaces, and Soap understands. She doesn’t want to see it because then the pain becomes real, the direness of her situation. Finally, Ghost manages to move her hand, but he doesn’t release it. He clutches it possessively in his huge fist, thumb stroking her skin at a slow, even pace.

What. That’s slightly intimate. A touch tender.

Soap sees his shoulders subtly tense once the wound is revealed to him. “We’ll have to deal with it at the safehouse while we wait for Medevac.” Ghost’s voice is perfectly calm, a little strained. He’s trying not to frighten her even though the floor is tacky with her blood. Soap isn’t sure if he should help or retreat, he feels like his participation may pop some bubble that’s holding Red together. She seems comforted by Ghost’s presence.

The masked man brushes his thumb over her cheek, and she leans into it. 

“I killed the guy.”

“I know you did, kid,” he says softly, a hint of amusement under his tongue. 

Soap blinks. It falls into place. All of it. Ghost and Red Fox. Something is rooting them together, blossoming bright in front of him. Ghost is handling her with a gentleness that Soap didn’t know he possessed. It’s not because she’s a woman, it’s because she’s important.

This isn't new. He's seen this before.

He recounts the numerous times he’s noticed his superior act differently regarding her. It’s nothing blatant, but it’s there. Well hidden because of his mask. You can only hear it in the inflection Ghost’s uses when he calls her name, the way he inhales sharply when she stumbles or goes silent over the coms.

Hiding in plain sight.

Soap clears his throat, and Ghost flinches as if he’d forgotten anyone else was in the room. He lurches forward, hand on his gun, and secures Red behind him before he realizes it’s Soap. “The target, L.T.?”

Ghost curses and then shakes his head. “Gaz,” he barks into the coms. “What’s your position? You got eyes?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Finish it.”

“I feel weird,” Red Fox slurs, and she looks terrible. Sunken-in. There’s a grayness sticking to her complexion. She reaches for Ghost, fingers trembling as she wraps them around the straps of his vest. “Ss’cold.”

Soap isn’t sure what to do. Everything is hanging in the air. Pulsing. Alive. There’s the distinct pop of a gunshot through the coms. Mission Accomplished. 

“Alright, Red,” Ghost says, sliding his arms under her as he slowly lifts. “Up.”

Her mouth drops open, her brows knitted together from the pain. Soap offers her an empathetic look and awkwardly pats her knee from where she lies in Ghost’s hold. “You’re good, Foxy,” he smiles. “Just a scratch, yeah?”

Ghost grunts before cradling her to his chest, his mask blank. A stain of white in the dark aside from a splatter of red across the teeth. 

Soap reads him quite well. Don’t get in my way.  

***

“You gotta stay still,” Ghost demands in a low voice. “You’ve got this. You’re strong as all hell.”

“JESUS. FUCK.” 

“I need to clean it, kid,” he says, frustration building. “That was a dirty fucking knife.”

There’s another painful groan from the bed where Ghost is frantically hovering over Red like a nursemaid. The wound is gruesome. She’d been stabbed, and then the blade wrenched upward. Even Vargas had blanched at the sight of it. The flesh torn and bruised from the force used by her attacker. 

Soap waits outside the door to offer assistance if Ghost needs it. The Luitenant has remained strangely protective, not wanting too many in the room.

“Ow!” Ghost hisses. “That was my bloody eye.”

Red whimpers again before Ghost, seemingly forgetting that she’s just struck him, immediately begins to comfort her. Soap can hear it in her voice. The suffering is palpable. Her breath hitches before a sob breaks free. 

“Ah, shit,” Ghost says. “C’mon, no tears.”

“It fucking hurts,” she practically screams as something hard crashes to the floor. Soap thinks it may have been the lamp at her bedside. 

“I know,” he replies, and Soap discerns the distress in his tone. Ghost is scared, miserable that she’s miserable. “I know, darling.”

Darling. 

It seems to work like a balm. She hiccups, throat thick and wet before she says something Soap can’t make out. Ghost responds in an equally quiet voice. A soft murmur before he chuckles. 

Chuckles! 

Ghost is saying something again. The chair creaks on the floor, the man’s massive weight shifting forward. Curiosity gets the better of him, and Soap peeks through the doorway. 

He can only see Ghost from behind. He’s hunched over her, blanketing her with his body. He’s got a knee between her legs, one hand braced on the mattress. He’s doing something to her face. Soap can’t help himself, he takes a step to the left until he’s able to catch that Ghost has lifted his mask a few inches, forehead shoved against her own. He cradles her jaw and kisses Red like he’s lost the plot. She stiffens before her fingers curl around his neck and sighs like he’s doused her in cool water. 

Ghost retreats, cocking his head to appraise her before claiming her lips again and then dragging his tongue up her cheek, licking her tears in a way that borders on erotic. She groans and pushes at his massive chest. 

“Oh God, Simon.”

Ghost snatches one of her hands to slide his mouth over it. She shudders and then flinches, expression screwed up in pain, but her eyes are clearer. Her lashes clumped with tears. “You’re so weird,” she accuses in a tiny voice.

“Distracted you, though, didn’t I?” He draws away, pulling his mask back over his chin. “You enjoyed it a little.”

“I’m dying of blood loss.”

“You aren’t.” Ghost grabs the saline solution and cotton pads. “You gonna be a big girl and stop wriggling?”

“Get Soap,” she says. “He can hold me down.”

Soap shoots backward, soundlessly jamming himself against the hallway wall. 

“You’re just askin’ for it now,” Ghost growls before the chair squeaks as his enormous weight drops into the seat. There’s another moment of silence, aside from him unwrapping the gauze and unscrewing the cap on the solution. 

Soap should retreat. He should leave right now, but then Ghost speaks again.

“You can’t do that to me,” he says in a low voice. 

“I stayed alive, right?” she replies. “It’s the job, Simon.”

“Stay alive harder next time.”

There’s a beat of silence before Red answers.

Her voice is full of tenderness, and the words get lost in it. Indiscernible. Soap tiptoes away, suddenly mindful that he’s eavesdropping on something not meant for him.

[animeyanderelover]

May or may not write in the next few days also some poly!relationship with Morticia and Gomez Addams (as portrayed in the two movies in the early 90s). For now I would like to try my skills with my currently other hyperfixation. We're talking about the Wolverine version as portrayed in the first 3 X-Men movies.

Tw: Yandere themes, possessive behavior, obsession, stalking, overprotective behavior, death

Wolverine Hc's

The situation would be quite difficult and most definitely unexpected for Logan. He has spent years just aimlessly wandering around with no clear recollection of who he is and how he came to be, spent years just getting by somehow before Professor Charles and the X-Men offered him the closest thing to a family he has had since he came to be. He's loyal yet still sees himself as a loner who prefers keeping to himself. He's very conscious of his own feelings above anything else and even though he's known for his short temper and crude attitude he is by no means a bad person which is why he tries to put some distance between the two of you, fully aware that you shouldn't associate with him. At that point it is most likely too late already. For Logan to get so attached to you to the point of obsession it's likely that the two of you have known each other for a while now and that you've opened his heart up without even being aware of it. You've essentially just gained yourself a guard dog who will take any physical harm for you all too gladly.

Whilst Logan can be very possessive, especially in an established relationship, above all he is very protective. He spends most of his days just watching you from a distance, usually able to track you down by scent and sound alone. Normally his days do not require him to be overly busy unless Professor Charles needs something from him so he has a lot of time on his hands which he gladly devotes to you. All too often you have him always a few feet away from him, watching over you and willing to interfere as soon as anything or anyone should pose a threat to you. As someone who doesn't like when his own freedom is limited Logan at least gives it a try to not be too protective yet the fact that his senses are so much keener do not make this task easier. Never think that he isn't good in noticing your current mood. He hears it when your heart starts racing and his elevated sense of smell makes him very sensitive to changes in your body odor as he's able to detect the chemical changes when your emotions change. This plays a role in how he reacts and if his darling is highly emotional or on a more anxious Logan will be naturally more protective.

Your existence is a blessing as much as it is a curse for him simply because you make Logan aware just how painfully lonely he feels now that he has started yearning for you. You make him miserable in more than one way. Somehow he makes the situation even worse for himself though whilst being your devoted watchdog from the shadows. He's usually there when you spend time with friends or family outside, observing from a safe distance all whilst feeling a strange sensation tugging at his heartstrings, a strange sensation edging between warm comfort and cold loneliness. He'd like to be by your side too but knows that there are things he still has to work on. Jealousy is one of a few emotions that tends to make you aware that there is in fact a man following you around and the first time you hear that guttural growl from behind you you believe for a short moment that a beast is standing right behind you. One may call him too protective but he isn't irrational when he's jealous for neither his nose nor his ears lie to him. He knows exactly when you feel attracted to someone or vice versa.

People have insulted him more than once as being no better than an animal, a beast with no mind of his own. That is not true as Logan doesn't blindly attack people but killing others he will do if it guarantees your safety. There's a difference between arrogant stupidity that some may put up for show and the genuine bloodlust , the will that it takes to kill someone and Logan is able to tell the difference which often spares idiots their life as a few simple threats with his adamantium claws are more than sufficient enough to have grown men running away like little kids. Anyone who really comes for your life though will be met with the beast he has been called he is. Logan is fully prepared to murder anyone who would even dare try to lay a finger on you and his regenerative abilities tend to make him very reckless, fully prepared to use his own body as a shield and endure all injuries if it means that there isn't a single scratch on you. The one mistake someone could make though is triggering him to go berserk by hurting you, leaving him attacking and hurting anyone around him blindly, his mind clouded in red rage as he tears through blood and flesh.

In all the years since he has awoken without any memories of his previous life he has never been able to settle down once as a unease deeply rooted within his soul kept him moving from place to place, too restless to ever allow himself to sit still for even a moment. He has no place where he could keep you and Logan knows that yet strangely enough the longer he starts spending time near you the more he feels a previously unfamiliar ease washing over him, one that motivates him to give a permanent stay in a place a chance, something that previously used to be unimaginable for him. Even if he were to actually take that step and buy a small house he would still refrain himself from kidnapping you unless his trauma that lays dormant somewhere in his mind would resurface when he has to witness the heart-shattering situation of almost losing you, a vice on his mind that would taunt him forever that you almost lost your life because he couldn't protect you. The guilt will most likely only serve as an additional shackle around his soul yet his paranoia would ultimately outweight his guilt.

You may fall in the same trap as others do when they initially lay eyes upon the wild-looking man. Whilst Logan is gruff, crude and quite aggressive at times he is not only that. He's more but that is a side he only reserves for the people he trusts and you figure out that there is far more beneath his hardened surface. He's kind, he's loyal, surprisingly gentle and downright flirty once you get to know him better. He's usually careful with his touches, aware that his grip may hurt you more due to the adamantium that coats all of his bones. Your scent usually manages to calm him as soon as he gets a whiff of it unless it would be tinged with distress in which case his own emotions would quickly start stirring up with worry. There are still occasionally moments where he appears more uncertain and hesitant, moments where he questions just how much he should indulge in all of this and to a degree even how much he deserves it. At that point he's already aware that it is far too late to recover though as he'd leave half of his heart with you if he were to distance himself from you now, doomed to always live only half the life he could have if he were to have you.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Natalia

Hardersson x Daughter!Reader

Natalia Guijarro (OC) x Hardersson!Reader

Part of The Big Adeventures Universe

Summary: Talia has a way with the refs

You wrinkle your nose in disgust as you look at the smear of mud on your boot. You know boots get dirty but this is a new pair and you had hoped to keep them cleaner than this after their first game.

It's a little annoying but there's not much else you can do.

Actually, you haven't had much to do in this match at all which is probably the reason why you can take so much time to inspect your shoes.

The action is on the opposite side of the pitch for the most part with brief forays into the midfield but the ball never got close enough to you to need to touch it.

You like playing, obviously, but sometimes it's nice to be on the field and not have to do much. At least when your mothers are in the crowd because there's always the added pressure of keeping a clean sheet when you have to go to dinner with them afterwards.

Besides, a seven-nil lead on a team at the bottom of the table is always fun to watch while on the field.

Talia has been tearing up the opposition's defence. On a hat trick already with a brace of assists you know she'll be searching for a third to complete her set.

On the bench, you can see Alexia bouncing her leg with the other coaches as if this is a make-it-or-break-it game. You're at the top of the table so you can only think she's hoping for the goal difference to increase.

She's a bit intense like that.

You're a bit more relaxed though. It's a mixture of the usual starting eleven and some of the kids from the B Team, testing out formations and roles.

Your defensive line is mainly the kids but they take orders well and don't seem to mind when you micromanage them.

You usual defence know what you want before telling them so it's a seamless partnership. The kids just need a bit more guidance sometimes.

Not that you've really needed to do it this match with all the action up the other side of the pitch. But, still, it's nice that they listen to instructions.

This match has been an easy win for Barcelona but that doesn't mean it hasn't had its mishaps.

Yellow cards have been flying around since the moment the whistle was blown. Three in the first half and four this second half. It's a little impressive, actually, because this referee isn't really known for giving out cards so willingly.

You think that's probably why Alexia seems so intense on the bench. A few players are a yellow card away from being suspended from the next match and you've got matches against second and fourth in the table in the coming weeks.

She'd probably try to take over for coach yelling if anyone got suspended.

You sigh as another altercation happens in the midfield. Some attackers collide with your midfielder and they go down.

It's a clear yellow but it seems like the ref is done giving out cards this match. It's the wrong decision but you're not about to march up to her and tell her that.

Talia seems to have no such reservations.

You can't quite hear what she's saying but you know she's arguing because her hands are flying around and her face is all tense and the vein in her neck is bulging.

This ref is a bit trigger-happy with dissent though and you can see her hand twitch towards the cards in her pocket.

"Talia!" You yell.

She ignores you.

"Natalia!"

She turns her head slightly to the noise but doesn't stop.

"Natalia Guijarro!"

She turns to look at you and you point to the space in front of you.

She jogs there, panting from exertion or yelling, you're not quite sure.

"Yeah?"

"Don't you dare get a yellow for something as silly as arguing."

"But-"

"No, Alexia's about to blow a gasket on the bench and you'll just give my Morsa more reason to dislike you. Go and get another assist so you have something to brag about."

She sighs, kicking a patch of grass stubbornly. "Fine."

"Good."

Talia ends the match with no yellow cards and a hattrick of assists to add to her hattrick of goals.

Alexia gives you a nod of thanks as you pass her before she turns on her heel to go yell at the players that got yellows.

Talia's arm wraps around your waist as you approach the stands.

"Good game," Momma greets as you stop in front of her.

"Good game for her definitely." You nudge Talia. "Hattrick queen."

Talia's cheeks glow red at the praise. She always does that when it's you complimenting her.

"Almost got a yellow card too," Morsa says and you roll your eyes.

Her whole act of annoyance with Talia is so flimsy at this point.

"But she didn't."

"Yeah, I suppose she didn't..."

Talia's grin widens.

"Let us get changed and we'll meet you outside? Or reservation is in forty-five minutes."

[lunahearts]

Okay I'm doing it. I'm chapter 96 posting.

This is not meant to be a big analysis post this is mostly just me sharing all the little moments that Marcille & Laios show their care for each other because they are SO beloved to me. Join me on the journey if you wish.

(but also the above statement may be a lie. I do have a point here, it turns out, and the point gets at some of my Big Feelings of what Dungeon Meshi has to say about the nature of friendship & living in the world)

So, first of all, the conversation about Laios being king at the start of the chapter. Just in general Laios insisting on presenting himself in his own way here is so good. Character development!!

Before the events of the story he hadn't shared his inner world with anyone but Falin. Now he's like Actually I'm gonna dress up in the discarded remains of my monstersona and that's just how it is.

And even though there are a LOT of parts of the story and bits of character growth that go into this, I think it specifically highlights some interactions from a few chapters ago.

After all, his initial reaction to having been in that monster form & coming out of it was trying to hide from everyone.

And I think everyone helping him put things in perspective here contributes to how he is able to present himself as king. They assure him that he is accepted, despite having just been seen by EVERYONE at his Peak "Weird Monster Guy" mode.

Highlighting what Marcille says here especially:

Going out to "face them with a smile" is EXACTLY what he does. Not right away. He's still pretty stressed in the following scene in this chapter. But he is able to face the crowds with a smile, eventually...

As king. Dressed in the memory of his most vulnerable moments, the most honest expression of his desire.

BUT I'M GETTING A LITTLE AHEAD OF MYSELF. Before the King Laios speech, there's a little moment with Marcille I want to highlight, because...

Did y'all know that by the end of the manga, Marcille isn't like... grossed out by eating monsters any more? Or at least, she's definitely changed her reaction to it. It's Namari who makes the "yeah it smells good despite what it is" comment, not Marcille.

We even get shots later of Tansu, Shuro, and Kabru being kinda grossed out by - but still going ahead and eating - the different Falin foods. Chilchuck also throws out a line about it being surprised that it's good.

But there's no disparaging comment from Marcille, despite the Everything of the situation. I just think that's also a nice little detail. She may not be as far in the monster eating game as Laios, but she's more willing to roll with the weirdness.

So after this little moment, this is when Laios comes out in his new regal outfit. And first of all...

This is such a good contrast to the moment when the group goes to save Marcille in chapter 84. The monsters had stopped attacking, and everyone's reactions to Laios and the others framed him as unsettling. Creepy. Maybe even traitors.

They even use some of the same labels (lord of the monsters/lord of the dungeon, dark lord/demon king)., but the context is that they are disgusted. The parallels in this manga....

Have a tendency to destroy me. What a difference in reception.

Anyway, after this moment, Laios stops to talk to the group... and I'd like to point out again: MARCILLE ISN'T FLIPPANT HERE EITHER!!

Chilchuck is still Chilchuck, of course, and I want to be clear I love that, too. Chilchuck is who he is to his core. His little jabs are very affectionate in this chapter.

But Marcille... Marcille only points to the Winged Lion symbol as being weird, not the monster bits. And like, considering what she's just been through with the lion, being skeptical of that part is... fair.

(don't get me wrong, her "that's fine and all" isn't exactly excitement. BUT the point I'm trying to make is less about her completely changing her feelings & preferences. It's more about how she expresses them, and how she treats Laios and HIS feelings & preferences)

And she continues to be so encouraging!! Wah!! Like, despite, all four of these people definitely caring about Laios, it's Marcille specifically who tells him to relax and just be honest. And you know what? I think that's what Falin would have said, too.

Please also note how cute everyone's little faces are in the crowd:

(see, Chilchuck loves him too!! Look at that fond face, and the cheer. and Senshi! and Namari! They really are such a family)

Laios' short speech actually has a little bit I'd like to highlight as well, since I think it is a nice little reflection of his choice to keep the lion insignia on his new outfit:

"Eat to your heart's content," he says. Not just "enjoy," or "let's eat."

Dunmeshi does such a wonderful job of framing so much about the Winged Lion with nuance, and this is a good example of that. Desire is not bad! Craving and consuming is beautiful. As Laios says when explaining the lion insignia...

It's not just something to get rid of.

So then... on to the feast!

And not only does Marcille not express any grossed out feelings, as I mentioned before... she even helps to gross out Chilchuck!!

Her weird girl powers are only just in their infancy. She will only grow more powerful in time...

As the feast goes on of course we get the group's realization about her hair, and I'd like to point out:

I really feel like they have such similar reactions to finding out about how the other has been affected by the Winged Lion

Just... the quiet concern. Not making a huge fuss, but... worried. Understanding. A little heartbroken for each other.

SPEAKING OF HEARTBROKEN REACTIONS THOUGH. WHAT COMES NEXT REALLY GETS ME.

After Chilchuck braids Marcille's hair for her, the topic of her needing to leave everyone comes up and...

God, these expressions. Every Time I see these panels I think about about what Laios saw in her nightmare. Her fears. The weight of inevitable loneliness, and the way it has marked her. As much as Marcille tries to keep things light when talking about it, he knows what this means to her. And it HURTS.

So he doesn't accept it. But do you notice how he frames this. Do you see. Not "do you want me to fix this." Not "hey I have an idea."

"Would you be willing to stay."

He doesn't know whether she will accept. Whether she will hate the idea, actually, of staying here with him. He's putting himself out there fully prepared for rejection & dismissal, as he has faced many times before.

But his pitch, his proposal to her, it's not JUST an excuse to ask her to stay, either. He's put thought into this. Into what Marcille could mean and do here. Not just to and for him, but for the people of this area. The place he has taken responsibility for.

He's also thinking about Falin. And about all the other little girls, the people of all sorts, just like her. He's thinking about the people who have been killed (burned at the stake???), hurt, shunned. About the people who have been abandoned. The people who are still alone.

He's not just offering Marcille an out from her isolation, he's offering her a new purpose. A new way to continue her work, to do the things she cares about. He SEES her! he understands her.

BUT ALSO HE'S SO NERVOUS OUGH. FIDDLING WITH THE PLATE. UNSURE IF SHE WILL CARE. UNSURE IF HE HAS IT RIGHT.

HE'S NOT GOOD WITH PEOPLE HE'S NOT GOOD AT THIS.

BUT THEY UNDERSTAND EACH OTHER. AND SHE WANTS THIS LIFE HE'S OFFERING HER.

Still... it's not that simple for her, even if for a moment she is swept up in how much she wants this.

Again here, Marcille is working so hard to be chill about the whole 'going west with the elves' thing. She looks absolutely devastated in the first panel, but puts on a smile in the second.

Maybe she doesn't want to bring down the mood. Maybe she doesn't want to burden everyone with what seems like the only option she has. Maybe she had already accepted the cost that might come with bringing Falin back. Maybe after everything with the Winged Lion, she doesn't want to risk letting herself fight for her desires too hard.

But hey. Desires aren't always bad. They aren't something to just get rid of.

A small bit of visual storytelling here... I love that Marcille is confined by the panel, but Laios is stepping outside of it. He's literally pulling her outside of the box she feels trapped in.

Also, I love that his first acts as king are:

1) welcome everyone to a big feast

2) stand by his friend and help her find happiness

It's great stuff and it's so Laios.

In addition to that, I love how this whole act actually plays out. I love that, while getting the elves to let Marcille go, he gets to be extremely cool and protective...

but also like. Not THAT cool and protective.

No really, I mean it! I think it's important! It's important that cool 'suave king guy Laios' is a front he puts up when he needs to deal with these strangers, and one that he completely drops once it's just him and Marcille.

He's not trying to impress her, or convince her he's cool and suave. Why would he? He trusts that she's okay with the messy, often unimpressive, sometimes kinda gross reality of who he is.

And isn't that what Dungeon Meshi is all about? Messy, unimpressive, gross reality. And how beautiful, how wonderful, how very precious it is

Especially when you get to share it with your friends.

[the-writer-arrived]

Voice lines and habits that give me unholy thoughts

Synopsis: it doesn't need much for your cute little brain to go haywire with desire for him... (un)fortunately for you, he's quick to catch on the signs and use them against you.

Characters: wriothesley, alhaitham.

Warnings: afab!fem!reader; explicit smut; established relationship; a bit of plot since i like the build up to the horny part; use of handcuffs, oral f!receiving, fingering & overstimulation (wriothesley); semi-public/office sex & oral m!receiving (alhaitham).

A/N: wrio's teaser and web event messed with my brain :D hoyoverse def knew what they were doing when they created him.

This work has sexual themes and is not suitable for minors. If you click on read more, I am not responsable for any discomfort you may feel reading this. You have been warned.

"...Sweetheart, did you hear me or were you too busy staring intensely at my hand?"

"...Oh! I, uh... was just thinking about an answer to your question!"

"Does my question of whether you want more tea or not need that much pondering over?"

Wriothesley rests his cheek on his hand, not even trying to hold back a smirk as he watches the redness of your cheeks becoming more proeminent.

Shit. So much for thinking you were being discreet about it.

You decide to exercise your right to remain silent, taking the teapot and filling your own cup, promptly ignoring the chuckle coming from the man before you.

At the corner of your eyes, you see the handsome bastard has the audacity to return twirling and moving that dastard pen again, as if to taunt you.

...Is feeling jealous of an object too concerning of a sign?

----------

Wriothesley was seeing you out of his office, a stack of documents in your arms that needed to be delivered to Neuvillette about the recent happenings of the Fortress, a task that you were more than happy to do for him.

As you were finishing your conversation, you hear a commotion coming from the Coupon Cafeteria. With a shared glance between you two, the warden walks towards the scene to investigate, you following a few steps behind.

There, you see a group of inmates-- no, it's more like one inmate is causing a ruckus while the others are trying to cool him off... without much success apparently. In fact, things are quickly getting out of control when the riled up man begins to fight anyone opposing him.

Your boyfriend is known to be level-headed, always trying to resolve internal conflicts by talking things out to reach an agreement. Cases like this one, however, require a more... on hands approach.

It all happens too fast. The prisoner turns around to hit the next person that dared to touch him so casually, only for his sloppy attack to be dodged with ease by none other than the Duke himself. One could easily see the color draining from man's face, any trace of his anger disappearing in a flash.

You gasp at the scene ahead of you, having to lean on the large pipe next to you as your legs suddenly feel weak.

Make no mistake, your reaction isn't fear by the violence you witness, far from it. Rather, it is because of the sudden wave of arousal you feel as you watch Wriothesley pin the troublemaker underneath him, pulling his arms behind his back to cuff him.

Fuck. For a split second, you wish you could trade places with the inmate.

'...What in the world. Get a hold of yourself!'

You shake your head in an attempt to clear the indecent thoughts... Which proves to be futile at the way the stern and cold look of your lover melts into a soft and warm one when his eyes turn to you. All while 'adjusting' his loose tie, aka pulling it lower and revealing a bit more of his scarred skin that you adore kissing it.

"Are you okay, sweetheart? Sorry, did that scare you?"

His duality makes you crazy horny-- t-that is, deeply in love with him!

"No! No, no, I wasn't scared! I was just, um... feeling a little faint due to the heat, yes!"

You wave a hand in front of you make it more believable... which don't seem to be working very we'll, seeing the frown on Wriothesley's face. So you start your plan B: run away.

"Ah, I-I better go deliever this documents to Monsieur Neuvillette then. Seeyouathomeloveyoubye!"

Wriothesley watches as you scurry off to the elevator, clutching the files in your arms like a lifeline. He shakes his head, a hand covering the grin.

"Oh darling, you're too easy to read."

----------

"Y-You mean-- ahh, that you k-knew all along?!"

"How could I not, when your eyes were almost begging me to fuck you? You should reward me for my self control, sweetheart."

Any retort you had dissolve into a shaky moan when Wriothesley curls his two fingers inside your core, hitting that deep spot that turns your brain into mush.

You want grasp the sheets, you want to scratch his back, you want to cover your face, ANYTHING. But you can't, not with your hands locked with his handcuffs to the bedpost. You hate it and you love it.

"Wrioooo..."

"Now, now princess, don't tug the handcuffs so hard, it'll hurt you and we can't have that." His free hand trails up your arms, lightly dragging his nails to make you shiver at the ticklish feeling, until he holds your wrists in place. "Be a good girl and focus on me, yeah?"

Jokes on him, that's what you've been doing the whole day. Thinking about your dear boyfriend, his sweet personality, his cute adoration for tea, his godly body, his great strength and how you wished for nothing more than to be bent over his desk and--

"C-Close, close... Gonna-!" Your babbles are interrupted by a gasp, Wriothesley's fingers speeding up and his palm brushing against your clit over and over that it takes just a few seconds for you to see white, body taut, eyes squeezed shut as pleasure washes over you.

The Duke slows down his movement until his hand stops completely, kissing your temple and cooing at you when you whine at his fingers leaving you empty.

You sigh when his mouth meets yours in a languid kiss, helping your heartbeat return to normal... until it races again when you realize his lips going down, down and down your body...

"W-Wrio... what are you-- Ahh!" You squeal at the sudden cold sensation in your sensitive pussy, attempting to wiggle your hips away. Your very mean lover just chuckles, wrapping his strong arms around your thighs and drags you back to his face, the asshole shooting you a smirk after he uses cold tongue to lick your folds again.

"Surely you didn't think I'd stop at one round, after you used your bedroom eyes at me the whole day, right? So..."

"Don't run away now, sweetheart."

"W-What did you say?!"

"...I said, don't let any of it, the treasure, roll away now."

Your lover looks at you with a quizzical look, not comprehending your unusual reaction to his words. You, on the other hand, are silent praying to all the Seven archons for your face to not be as red as you think it is.

In any case, you decide to turn your back to Alhaitham to get the rest of the treasure inside the chest, while he keeps on look out for any other hilichurl or abyss monsters lurking around.

You see, it's not common for you two to go adventure together around Sumeru, much less to see the scribe in action with your own eyes. So, you can't be blamed when you've been too distracted by the way his toned arms flex as he swings his sword(s), his cape gracefully flowing at each movement, the focused expression as the Chisel-Light Mirrors cut down the enemies...

Anyway, you were far too busy gawking over your boyfriend and how unfairly hot he is to actually notice the chest spawning right in front of you. And those words that he had said? It's no surprise your mind went to the gutter.

You just hope you weren't acting so obviously down bad for him as you fear...

----------

"So good... Always so good to me. Fuck, I'm getting close...!"

You really don't know how you got here. The memories from returning to Sumeru City from adventuring in the wilderness to being on your knees, sucking on Alhaitham's cock while in his office are a blur.

But, honestly? You can't bring yourself to care about these minor details.

You drag your head back slowly, torturously forcing the man above you to feel every inch of your mouth until only the tip, angry red and drooling pre cum, remains inside.

The harsh suck you give at the sensitive area earns you a groan, a growl almost, that leaves you rubbing your thighs together. Looking up at your beloved, you watch his chest rise and fall rapidly, a pretty flush on his cheeks and eyes sending you a glare.

A side of you wants to be mean, to give him a taste of paradise before taking it away, just like he so adores to do with you. You want him to be frustrated, to beg you for release, a taste of his own medicine...

But you can't. You shouldn't.

Regardless of the locked door, anyone might come knocking, requiring the presence of the scribe for some unimportant business and, archons forbid, hear what is happening inside the office.

You try not to acknowledge the dampness of your panties from this thought.

And then you feel it, three taps of his fingers on the back of your head, the sign you two came up with to tell the other when you're about to cum.

You release his shaft with a "pop" and Alhaitham is ready to question your cruel actions, but whatever words he had wanted to say get thrown out of the window when you swallow him again without warning, taking as much of his cock as you can.

With one, two shallow thrusts of his hips, he paints your throat white with his release, head thrown back, eyes tightly shut and a moan that most certainly would be heard by everyone in the Akademiya halls had the scribe not covered his mouth.

You try, you swear to Celestia that you try your hardest to swallow every single drop of cum, but there's too much and you can control your breathing only for so long. With much dismay, your mouth lets go of the slowly softening member, covered with a mix of his seeds and your saliva.

Chuckling at your dejected look, Alhaitham raises your chin to make you look at him, thumb gathering the very same mix that has escaped from your mouth to smear it over your lips, his next words making you shiver in arousal but also embarrasment of the knowledge that he had known all along what had gone through your mind during your adventure earlier.

"Don't let any of it roll away now, my love."

thanks for reading <3 likes, reblogs and comments are very appreciated <3

heart divider made by @/cafekitsune

red wriothesley and alhaitham banners (smut) made by @/the-writer-arrived aka yours truly ;)

[beeing1alive]

Could you play the Tokyo Revengers characters with a really pretty girlfriend?

Note: Of course and I had a lot of fun writing this

f.t.: Mikey (Manjirō Sanō); Draken (Ken Ryūgūji); Mitsuya (Takashi Mitsuya); Chifuyu (Chifuyu Matsuno); Baji (Keisuke Baji); Takemichi (Takemichi Hanagaki); Angry (Souya Kawata), Smiley (Nahoya Kawata); Hakkai (Hakkai Shiba); Kazutora (Kazutora Hanemija), Koko (Hajime Kokonoi); Inupi (Inui Seishu); Hanma (Shuji Hanma)

Mikey is not at all shy about telling you how perfect and really perfect you look in every conceivable situation. You go for a walk? He tells you he's never seen anything prettier. You're in the shower? He's practically glued to it and won't stop telling you how wonderful you look.

Draken almost always looks at you. At least whenever he can. For some reason, his eyes are always around you, no matter what you're wearing. He might go crazy if you're wearing a short skirt or a tight shirt because he can't help but stare at your accentuated body parts and blush every time you move even slightly. We won't go into that any further.

Mitsuya always gets extreme love attacks when you wear clothes that he has made. He always adjusts every seam and every fabric to your perfect body, so that all the wonderful parts are highlighted. Every time you walk around in front of him in one of these pieces of clothing, he forgets how to breathe and has to turn away to hide his blushing face.

Chifuyu thought at the beginning of your relationship that you were only with him because you wanted to get closer to one of his friends. Not a single girl has ever looked at him the way his friends are looked at, so he wondered why such a beautiful person fell in love with him. But after your first kiss, he realised that love can't be faked so well.

Baji got a nosebleed when he saw you for the first time. You just walked into the classroom in your school uniform and as soon as he caught a glimpse of your pretty face, it happened. Of course he was terribly uncomfortable and that wasn't the first impression he wanted to make on you, but at least now you can tease him every time he stares at you.

Takemichi wonders every day why someone like you, who could get anyone with his beauty, would want to be with him. You just look so pretty with that sweet grin painted on your perfect face. He thinks that you are a work of art. Of course, he's not just with you because you're pretty, but honestly, he loves your body.

Angry adores your body and he just can't keep his hands off you. Not just in the kinky sense, but much more in general. He's very shy, but even so, his little finger is given away with yours as soon as he walks or stands next to you. There is simply no prettier creature for him than you.

Smiley really does show you off a lot. To be honest, he always stands behind you so that you come into your own in front of him. It's just his thing to stand behind you, one arm around your waist, like: I know, she's a masterpiece, isn't she? Well, unfortunately it's already mine. I don't know why, but his grin always gets a little more mischievous when he sees that another boy staring at you and then realises who is standing behind you.

Hakkai is, just to be clear, extremely shy around pretty much any girl. You're certainly no exception. But we're only talking about in public here. Behind closed doors, he can hardly keep his hands or eyes away from you. He likes it best when you only wear short and comfortable clothes so that he can see a lot of your skin.

Kazutora hasn't seen you for a long time and honestly? He almost fainted when he saw what a beautiful young woman you had become. He quickly got used to it though and made a habit of admiring and loving every inch of your perfect body. He just can't help himself.

Koko loves your body and every inch of it. Sometimes you're just lying on your sofa scrolling through social media and he lies on top of you and draws circles and lines on your body. He loves these moments, especially because he can really relax, as he usually works so much and hardly gets any rest. And he has a clear view of your body…

Inupi stares at you from a distance and when you notice it, he looks away and blushes so much that you know he was staring has been staring. Your body is simply too hypnotising for him and he doesn't know what to do about it. Every single movement looks perfect and every part of your body is wonderful.

Hanma rarely tells you how great you look, but he definitely shows it. Not intentionally, but he shows it. Sometimes you notice how he stares at you with extraordinary affection or how he absently strokes your body and hums softly. He actually wonders why you're with him. With your beauty, you could have anyone. Oh God, he just loves you too much.

Attention: The characters and the gif do not belong to me. All credits go to the actual owners. If you want anything to be changed or removed, please write to me.