#try artificial dumbass

[m0jitosss]

I changed the phone's default keyboard a few months ago and am still trying to tame it

[oglegoggle]

I feel so paralyzed

[luvvixu]

he knows my shade / k. bakugo

he knows your makeup shades, brands, and preferences by heart!

the bell above the shop door chimed as you stepped inside, eyes lighting up at the familiar rows of skincare, blushes, and lip tints. you hadn’t expected to end up in a makeup store today, but when you spotted it on the corner and pointed it out, katsuki bakugo just gave a gruff, “tch. if we’re already here, might as well.”

you didn’t expect him to follow you inside. you really didn’t expect him to stay close by, arms crossed, eyes scanning shelves like he was on some kind of mission.

as you wandered over to the lipstick display, you heard him mutter behind you, “that’s not the one you use.”

you turned, brows raised. “huh?”

he pointed at the tube in your hand. “that brand’s too dry for your lips. you always use that other one—the one with the gold cap.”

you blinked. “you… noticed that?”

he looked away, ears tinting pink. “i’m not blind, dumbass. you always complain when your lips feel dry. that brand sucks.”

you bite back a smile and reach for the right one—your shade, your favorite brand. the one he somehow remembered down to the packaging.

you wandered a little more, grabbing a concealer, and without hesitation he said, “you’re shade 105 in that. you went too light last time and kept whining about looking like a ghost.”

“...”

“bakugo katsuki,” you said slowly, looking at him like he’d grown a second head. “how do you know all of this?”

he shrugged, still not making eye contact. “you talk.” he pointed at you. “i listen.” then pointed at himself.

your heart skipped.

he didn’t say it to be romantic. that was just him—blunt, rough, no-nonsense. but those four words said more than any cheesy pickup line ever could.

you reached out and gently bumped your shoulder against his. “thanks, kat. that’s actually really sweet of you.”

he grunted. “whatever. just hurry up before you end up buying the whole damn store.”

still, he stayed by your side the entire time—grumbling, yes, but you caught him sneaking glances at you every time you smiled at a new item.

and you knew, without him ever needing to say it, that he liked seeing you happy. even if it meant memorizing every shade, every brand, every detail just because it mattered to you.

as you reached the lip care section and immediately lit up. “ooh, they have new flavors! i’ve been wanting to try a different lip balm.”

bakugo followed behind, glancing lazily at the shelves “what's wrong with the one you always use?”

“i dunno,” you said with a shrug, twisting open a tester to sniff. “just thought i’d change it up since i'm always using strawberry flavor. maybe try this cherry one—”

“no.”

you blinked, turning to him. “what?”

he crossed his arms and frowned, a bit too intensely for such a tiny lip balm. “the one you use now tastes better. the strawberry one.”

your brain short-circuited. “i…i’m sorry, what?”

bakugo looked away, jaw clenching. “i said what i said. the old one’s better. that cherry crap’s probably gonna taste all artificial and weird.”

you gawked at him, warmth blooming in your cheeks. “wait…you’re actually savoring my lip balm tastes when we kiss?”

he tsked, clearly flustered now. “i’m not fucking savoring it, i’m just saying…i notice, alright? and that one—” he jabbed a finger toward the familiar pink tube you always used, “—that one’s the good one.”

a beat passed.

you broke into a wide grin. “katsuki. are you telling me you enjoy kissing me when i wore that strawberry flavored lip balm?”

“don’t make it weird,” he muttered, grabbing the old brand and tossing it into your shopping basket with zero hesitation. “just stick with the usual.”

you were still giggling as you walked toward the register, and bakugo, still flushed and fuming behind you, grumbled something under his breath about how you’re the one who kisses him first anyway.

after ringing up the products you bought, katsuki immediately beat you at paying as his card was already pushed on the cashier's hand. you looked at him in surprise but then blushed at his act of kindness—but to him, he just loves spoiling you.

when you thank him with all of your heart, he couldn't help but to feel warm in his chest as he literally watched you hoover him with sparkles in your eyes. and in his mind, he was sure he would do that all over again just to see you this happy.

as the two of you stepped out of the store, the little bell above the door jingled behind you. your bag was full of your favorite essentials—plus a few extras bakugo had thrown in with an annoyed scowl and muttered, “just get it already.”

he reached out and plucked the shopping bag from your hand before you could even blink.

“hey—!”

“i’m carrying it,” he said flatly, already walking ahead.

you jogged a few steps to catch up, a smile tugging at your lips. “you’re such a softie.”

“shut up,” he shot back, ears already turning red.

the two of you walked side by side, your free hand brushing his. when you slipped your fingers into his, he didn’t pull away—just squeezed gently, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

the city buzzed around you: people, traffic, distant music—but it all felt quiet with him next to you, warm and steady.

then, just as you turned the corner toward a quieter street, he suddenly stopped walking.

you turned to him, confused. “kat—?”

he set the shopping bag down for a moment, then leaned in and kissed you.

soft. quick. familiar.

but when he pulled back, he made a face as he licked his lips. “yep. that new lip balm would’ve ruined that.”

you laughed as you hooked your arms around his neck. “oh my god, you’re actually obsessed with my lip balm.”

“nah, not the balm,” he muttered, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and tugging you closer as you walked again. “just the way you taste.”

that shut you right up.

but the grin you wore all the way home? yep. he definitely noticed.

and if he kissed you again at the next stoplight just to prove his point? well… who were you to complain?

masterlist

©luvvixu2025

a/n: based on true story lol! i think this is by far my most favorite katsuki story that i wrote.

[cozmowrites]

How to Train Your Dragon

The first time Bakugou Katsuki saw you interact with a dragon, he knew you were either an idiot or a genius.

He was betting on idiot.

You were nothing like the other warriors in your village. While everyone else raised their swords and battle axes, you raised your hand—calm, steady, as if you could tame a beast that had terrorized your home for generations.

And, somehow, you did.

The jet-black Night Fury—one of the rarest and most dangerous dragons ever seen—stood before you, its green-yellow eyes locked onto yours, its wings shifting restlessly. The village would've celebrated if you'd slain it, but instead, you reached out like you belonged in its world.

Bakugou had never wanted to punch someone more in his life.

"You really think that thing won't bite your damn hand off?" he barked, arms crossed as he watched from behind a tree.

You didn't flinch. Your fingers hovered inches from the dragon's snout, your voice soft. "I don't think it wants to hurt me, or us."

"You don't think—?!" Bakugou stomped toward you, scowling. "This is a Night Fury, dumbass. The unholy offspring of lightning and death! It's not a damn pet!"

You ignored him, focusing entirely on the dragon. It was wounded—its tail fin torn, the reason it hadn't escaped yet. You had spent weeks tracking it, not to kill it, but to understand it.

And Bakugou hated that.

Not because you were reckless. Not because you made him question everything he knew about dragons.

But because you were right.

He had spent his life proving himself, being the strongest warrior in your village, the one who would slay dragons without hesitation. But you? You had done the impossible.

You made him doubt.

+++

The next time he found you sneaking off into the woods, he didn't yell. He just followed quietly.

You sat in the clearing with the dragon, sketching something in the dirt. It was a rough drawing of a tail fin—your way of fixing the dragon's injury.

"You're unbelievable," Bakugou muttered, stepping into the clearing.

You smiled at him, that stupid, hopeful smile that made his chest tighten. "You followed me." You noticed him easily. He wasn't exactly quiet. The dragon watched the two of you, and the drawing, whipping his tail on the sandy ground.

"Tch." He rolled his eyes. "I came to make sure you didn't get eaten."

You raised a brow. "And if I did?"

He scoffed, crouching beside you. "Then I'd say 'I told you so' at your funeral."

But there was no venom in his voice, no real anger. Just frustration—the kind that came from watching you rewrite the world he thought he understood.

+++

Training with you was different than before. You weren't much of a coward, but you were studying other dragons you were supposed to fight and being friendly. The others didn't like that.

You used your mind a lot, notes you've taken in a notebook, and using it on those dragons in the rings. You earned trust. Bakugou had spent years fighting dragons, but now he stood beside you, watching in awe as you flew with one, one that was previously in the ring.

And damn it, he hated that he was impressed.

He hated that when you grinned at him from atop the Deadly Nadder, his heart stuttered like a clumsy first flight. That was a dragon he wanted to ride. He wanted to learn about that dragon for himself the moment he saw you effortlessly ride it.

+++

"You don't have to prove anything," you told him one night, sitting by the fire, working on the tail wing for your Night Fury.

Bakugou's jaw tightened. "That's easy for you to say."

"Is it?" You tightened a leather strap, adjusting the artificial wing, voice quieter. "No one in the village believes in me either."

He turned to you, surprised.

You sighed. "I'm not a warrior. I don't fit in. They think I'm weak."

Bakugou frowned. "You're not weak."

You met his gaze, searching. "Then why do you keep trying to stop me?"

Because he didn't want to lose you. Because the way you saw the world made him want to see it differently too.

Because every time you smiled at him, he felt like he was falling—and for the first time, he didn't mind not landing.

But he wasn't good at words. So instead of answering, he grabbed your hand, squeezed it once.

Your eyes widened slightly, but you didn't pull away.

+++

masterlist ⟢

more bakugou ⟢

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[thenewestxmen]

Logan making a bath for Wade after a rough cancer day and because of wades PTSD from Francis putting Wade in the ice tank, Wade starts to freak out.

“Bub?” Logan says outside the bathroom, hearing wades whimpers. When Logan hears no response, he starts to worry. And if you have ever seen a 400 pound wolverine get worried for his spouse, it’s not very pretty.

“Wade… Wade open the door.”

 - -no response- -

“Please open the door darlin’…”

You would think that Logan would try and break the door down, but, the “worst”- Logan isn’t this universes Logan. He saw every single person he loved die. And if he thinks that the person he loves might be in trouble, despite Wade being immortal, Logan might panic, in the time ripper was another story, that was each of them sacrificing themselves. But this, this was like Wade was closing off, and Logan wanted to… NEEDED to be let in.

“W-Wade, can you please open the… the door…?” Logan is petrified. The what if’s started to resonate around Logan’s head. 

“The key dumbass. It’s on the keychain by the door.” Al calls, hearing Logan’s distress. 

Logan rushes to the key and takes it off the hook. Running back to the bathroom he frantically turns the key in the key pad. As the door creaks open, Wade is having a full blown panic attack sitting in the bath tub. His face is tear stained and he’s holding his legs close.

“Wade! What’s wrong? You hurt?” Logan says, scrambling next to Wade.

“‘M real fucked up.” He says, trying to play it all off as a joke, giving Logan an artificial smile.

He’s almost frozen besides the movement in his head and the light shaking. Logan pulled Wade out of the tub, into my arms. He carries him out of the bathroom and onto the bed, handing him undergarment and clothes. When Wade could hardly bring himself to move, Logan resorted to helping his legs into his underwear and pants. When the clothes were on, Wade just held onto Logan for a moment, his arms wrapped around Logan’s neck tightly, taking in his smell. Logan didn’t want for Wade to be forced to let go, he’s already shaken up enough. Logan just picks him up again, laying him on the couch. The television clicks on and Frozen turns on, wades attention flips that way. Logan just cuddles up to Wade, holding him in his arms, cradling him. Logan lightly pecks his lips when Wade gets quiet and whispers praise when he starts to get more talkative.

“Would you still love me if I was a worm?”

“Sure bub.”

Authors note: weird ending ik, but I couldn’t think of anything else. Sorry it’s been a few days since I’ve posted, I’ve been a bit more stressed. -Vee

[writer-freak]

Frank celebrating your birthday

A/n: Another little thing for my birthday as I really love Frank and I really liked the idea of trying to celebrate your birthday in the realm.

The last thing you ever expected to find in the Entity’s realm was a birthday celebration. Hell, you weren’t even sure time worked the same here. The endless cycle of trials and terror blurred the days together, making it easy to forget things like birthdays or holidays.

But somehow Frank Morrison remembered.

You didn’t even know how he figured it out. You didn’t exactly go around announcing it, and it wasn’t like the Fog handed out party hats. Maybe he overheard you mention it once. Maybe he pulled some strings with a certain killer to get the information. Either way, when you stumbled into the abandoned lodge of Ormond, you were met with something unexpected.

There, sitting on the bar, was a makeshift cake. If you could even call it that. It looked more like a stack of stolen cookies, haphazardly held together with frosting. A single candle stuck in the cake barely holding on.

And leaning against the wall, arms crossed, was Frank.

"Happy birthday, dumbass" he said casually.

You blinked, completely thrown off. "Wait… what?"

Frank scoffed, pushing off the wall. "Don’t make me say it again. I went through a lot of trouble for this."

You raised an eyebrow. "Did you… make this?"

"Sorta" he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. "Might've stolen some shit. Julie helped with the frosting. Not my fault if it's disgusting."

A laugh bubbled out of you before you could stop it. The idea of Frank Morrison trying to put together something even remotely resembling a birthday celebration was so absurd in your mind, it almost felt like a prank.

But when you looked at him , really looked ,you noticed something different. The way he shifted slightly, as if unsure what to do now that he’d actually gone through with this. The way his fingers twitched almost nervously.

This wasn’t just some joke to him.

Warmth spread in your chest. "You actually did this… for me?"

He rolled his eyes. "No, I did it for the other survivor in the room. Oh, wait. There isn’t one." He smirked but there was no real bite behind it. Just Frank being Frank.

You shook your head, still smiling. "Well, it’s probably the best cake I’ve ever seen in the Fog."

Frank snorted. "Low bar, but I’ll take it." He grabbed a lighter from his pocket and flicked it on, lightning the struggling candle. "Go on, make a wish or whatever."

You stared at the tiny flame, the only bit of warmth in the otherwise freezing room. You had no idea what to wish for. A way out? A normal life? A birthday where you weren’t stuck in a nightmare realm?

But then, as Frank stood there, arms crossed, acting like he didn’t care but he clearly did, you realized maybe, just for today, things weren’t so bad.

You closed your eyes, made a wish, and blew out the candle.

When you opened them, Frank was watching you, his head tilted slightly like he was trying to figure something out.

"What’d you wish for?" he asked.

You smirked. "If I tell you, it won’t come true."

He let out a dramatic sigh. "What a tragedy."

You laughed, shaking your head. "You’re ridiculous."

"Yeah, yeah," he said, but his voice was way softer now. He nudged the cake toward you. "C’mon, let’s eat this disaster."

You sat down, breaking off a piece of the haphazardly stacked cookies with a bit of frosting stuck to it. It was terrible. Too sweet, too artificial, and definitely made with not so great ingredients.

And yet, it was probably the best birthday you’d had in a long time.

Because somehow, in this terrible realm Frank Morrison had managed to make you feel special.

And that was a gift all on its own.

Divider by: @uzmacchiato

[formiito]

drunk walk home ; soukoku

synopsis : dazai osamu's last night before he leaves for good— his last night with the only one who has ever truly seen him.

author's note : my first time writing soukoku!! i hope this isn't too ooc, god knows i tried. a bit rushed towards the end because i really should study instead (and i'm not <3) read on ao3

In the middle of the night, the only lights on are the ones near the port. Flickering street lights, late offices and the glow of distant bars; artificial stars dotting the bay city. The neon colours bleed into each other once again, burning into Dazai’s vision. Everything seems slowed, as if he was struggling to catch up with a reality that was far faster than his alcohol addled mind could keep up with. The occasional auburn blur was the only thing that reassured him that his current drinking buddy was still following along, despite being near the edge of a stupor.

Stumbling through the roads and the night marketplaces, Dazai attempted to find the shortcut to Chuuya’s home, a route he knew like the back of his hand. Well, usually. Currently, he's taken atleast three wrong turns. Chuuya’s no more helpful, considering he insisted on taking the shorter way back. They took a bit too long to realize that the main road would've been shorter, but what more can anyone expect from two absolutely drunken fools trying their level best to get home. Chuuya blinks, wondering where the hell he had left his bike. He parked it somewhere, well, obviously, but when he got back his beloved bike was nowhere in the parking lot, and after a few minutes of searching it was painfully clear to him that he's going to have to try again when he can actually walk straight. He's gonna regret all those tequila shots later in the morning, but there were just some problems wine can't drown.

That is exactly why the both of them end up in this situation every time, isn't it? The lure of relief was too hard to resist, even though they both would much rather drink with anyone than each other. Leaning his arm on Chuuya’s shoulder, much to the shorter man’s chagrin, Dazai stumbled through the narrow street. The fluorescent signs that lined this road were rendered hazy by the smoke that seemed to perpetually linger in the air, and the path itself was free of any pedestrians. Empty? Good. They hardly needed trouble at this hour, not when they both barely had the coordination to tell left from right. Even with their best attempt at being vigilant, Chuuya could only manage to note how the color of his friend’s eyes seemed to mellow into a honey like hue under the glow of a signboard. An artificial glow that, for a few moments, made him look a little more alive. Even as he pushes the thought out of his head, a strange disappointment gnaws at his heart. Like he should have stared a little longer, to remember it.

All the while, Dazai tried to hold up both their weight, even though it was quickly becoming a futile attempt; arm around Chuuya’s waist, fingers curled into the fabric of the waistcoat to make sure they both didn't just topple over one another. It's not like it hasn't happened before, but he doesn't particularly fancy another night passed out over this slug in a nameless alley. Been there, done that.

“You're surprisingly heavy for such a short guy, you know, slug?”

“What the fuck did you just call me, bastard?!”

Dazai gives his best performance of a weary sigh. “Now you're hard of hearing, too? Slug.” As if to emphasize, he spells out the word in a singsong manner. “s-l-u-g!! That clear enough for you?”

“…I think I’m gonna kill you.” Chuuya spat out, trying to not grind his teeth from the sheer annoyance this waste of bandages caused him. “I hope you get the worst hangover tomorrow. I hope you're sick for days.” He shoved his hands into his pockets, while Dazai held him up straight.

“We're both getting killer hangovers, dumbass.”

“It was your idea to go drinking!!”

“You know damn well your ass can't hold your liquor. Lightweight!”

“I ain't no fucking lightweight, I kept up just fine!”

“You gave up after the second goddamn round, slug. Now get off me, I think my arm’s going to break from your heavy ass.”

Chuuya let up a little, the faint red glow of gravity manipulation surrounding him. Making himself lighter helped stabilize him in this condition. Even after he stopped leaning, Dazai’s hand didn't leave his waist, bandaged fingers curled into the fabric as they crossed the smog filled streets. “You know what, yeah, we've been walking in circles for an hour. Let's sit down for a bit.” Dazai nods at the idea, though not without a comical exaggeration. “Tired already?”—he drawls—”I thought you'd have a bit more left in you than that!” The way Chuuya’s jaw tightens and how his brows furrow? God, that's cute.

The fuck?

A few seconds after a thought so uncalled for, Dazai’s expression twists into grimace from the sheer distaste. There's no way he just thought that. Meanwhile, Chuuya had already found himself a lovely little cargo crate to sit upon, not even humouring Dazai’s taunt, sitting down on it with that annoyed expression still on his face. Dazai follows suit, and watches as the petit mafioso flicks open his cigarette case, taking out a singular stick. Just as Chuuya’s thumb moved to close the flap, a bandaged finger slips another stick out of it.

“Hey! Get your own, damn bastard.”

Dazai twirled the cigarette with practiced dexterity. “Mmm, nope.” He pops the 'p' as he says it. Maybe a good smoke would get that thought out of his head. Whatever that was. His other hand reaches into the inner pocket of his coat, fishing out a lighter. The blue flame lights the tip of the cigarette. The familiar, acrid scent fills his senses, the dim ember makes him feel oddly warm. From the corner of his chocolate eyes, he noticed Chuuya struggling with his own lighter. That old thing was clearly was out of fuel. He extends the black lighter to his cigarette, watching how it dangles idly from his mouth. “Guess you needed me anyway, huh?”

Chuuya waited for the end of the smoke stick to burn, eyes singularly focused on the light. “…Shut it.”

Dazai shrugs off the rude remark, taking a languid drag of the cigarette. A bit stronger than the ones he usually carried with him, but they hit the spot. The puff of smoke exhaled into the air curls upwards, and then fades into the glow of the green and blue signboard lights. Pretty. Fleeting. Only such a shame their youth would suffer the same fate, even if neither will realize it yet. Perhaps in Dazai’s mind, those days were already gone, for this is the last night he'll allow himself to stick to his old ways. To stick with him.

The auburn haired man seems none the wiser about his eventual departure. A good thing, for a lie is so much easier to say than the truth. It's a burden of youth to fall in pursuit of a distant, unclear dream, the promise of light; only to ignore the glow of the bridges they were burning behind them. It's foolish, Dazai knows, but it would be the only way he could bring himself to leave this teenage wastleland of theirs. To save what was remaining of this worthless life.

But what is salvation worth when compared to Nakahara Chuuya?

The small cigarette break ends far too quickly, fingers itching to light up one more, but the night wasn’t getting any younger. Neither were they getting less drunk, and if they didn’t make it home in time for the streetlights and signboards to die out for the night, it's another night falling asleep in an alley. Once Chuuya is done, he impatiently stands up once again; an extremely dumb idea. His head swirls, disoriented by the sudden movement. Instinctively his hands reach for Dazai’s shoulders, until they both stood up, looking like absolute idiots. Dazai was going to taunt him again for being a lightweight, until something caught his attention.

Tap.

The water droplet hit his head, and a quiet 'ow…’ left his pallid lips. Right. They were in the middle of rainy days. And of course the skies had to pick just the right time to cry; when they both were utterly drunk out of their minds and who knows how far from home. Two follows one, three follows two, countless does three. The downpour had begun. Chuuya let out of a groan of utter frustration, shrugging off his coat the best he could with his balance, attempting to drape it over the both of them. Their makeshift umbrella didn't do much, but it was enough for them to get home without being miserably wet. “Ugh, hold this, mummy boy.” Chuuya did not fancy being on his tiptoes for the whole journey back, and Dazai took the edges of the coat from him, holding it up over the both of them.

“Think we can make it if we run?”

“Yeah, think you can keep up?”

“Any day, slug.”

Without hesitation, they were off with their mad dash in the rain. Stumbling once or twice over the curbs, they barely managed to keep the same pace so that they could still be under the coat’s canopy. Chuuya could feel the raindrops hitting his back, and Dazai’s bandages were damp already. They didn't know when they got back to Chuuya’s place; perhaps they should have tried this earlier instead of walking around like bumbling fools all over the place. Dazai set the drenched coat down once they were in the building; gravel streaked steps to the elevator. The two were out of breath, panting, realizing a bit too late that maybe it was a little stupid of them to run off with that kind of reckless abandon when they were drunk and tired.

Once they caught their breath, the ring of the elevator bell indicated that they'd reached their floor. Now they just had to hope they had the right number. 322 — yeah, that's mine.

Chuuya fumbled with the keys in his pocket, attempting to figure out which ones worked with this lock. Vision glazed over, the ridges looked far too blurry; hands clumsily undoing the lock. One of the keys worked; fifth try was the charm. The shoes were kicked off, flying to god knows what part of the living room; the two drunken idiots stumbled in. Dazai didn't hesitate without collapsing right there on the couch, although his friend seemed to atleast have a bit more sense to get himself a glass of water. Not like it mattered that much anyway when thirty minutes afterwards they were both puking their guts out, crawling out of the bathroom like zombies from a b-rated horror film. All those shots were definitely a bad idea, and they were feeling it. If reading minds were possible, one would find that they could only think the same thing.

I’m never drinking with shitty Dazai again!

I swear, this is the last time I get drunk with that hatrack!

And it was true for it was indeed the last time they did drink together.

By quite a bit of effort, they managed to reach the couch once again. Legs over chests and arms over heads, they fit in the most uncomfortable way, but they did manage to not fall over. “Get off me, you're heavy!” Dazai whined, and in truth, he would've shoved him off if he could tell where his hands ended and where Chuuya’s began. “Shut up, I want to sleep!” Perhaps he was right for once, maybe sleep would do them well. With an annoyed grumble, his bandaged fingers settled to curl themselves into the auburn locks that tickled his neck, legs tangled on the velvet sofa. Gloved hands reach to turn the light off.

It was no easy to ignore his thoughts in the dark, not when the silence festered thoughts of his eventual departure; the uncertainty that will grip his life for the days ahead. Perhaps if it weren't for that man’s final words, the promise he drew out of Dazai, he wouldn’t be so willing to upend this life. He wouldn't have even considered saving himself.

So, when we ask once again, what is salvation worth when compared to Nakahara Chuuya?

It is worth a promise. One that must be kept.

Dazai’s mind drifts away once this resolution is made. The symphony that plays in the space between the waking and the asleep is the soft breathing of the man beside him. Focusing singularly on the nearly inaudible sound, looking at the back of his eyes, he allows himself to feel the moment for a final time before he gives away to sleep. Trace away the weave of the fabric that makes the back of his shirt, feel the soft strands that sometimes pricks skin, take note of the sleepy mumbles that leave Chuuya through his dreams. And before the subtle sensation fades, his mouth opens to form the words he feels he must say or they will rend apart his mind forever.

“...I think I’m gonna miss this.”

[solarissun]

Bad Idea, right?

afab!reader x Derek Danforth

Summary: You drunkenly bump into Derek at one of his parties.

WC: 2.5k

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, alcohol, drunk sex, oral (m receiving), choking, cheating, porn with (some?) plot, hard dom Derek, afab reader, p in v, P piercing, fingering, degradation, praise

A/N: I know I said I'd write a Sean fic but I just got severe Derek brain rot...

Enjoy!

✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩

You’re not exactly sure what you’re looking for. You just know you need alcohol. Well, you’ve already had… two? Four drinks. But, what’s the harm in a few more?

As you stumble your way to one of the bars, you run headfirst into someone’s back. The stranger turns around, looking down at you. You immediately recognize him. Derek Danforth, billionaire playboy. You had worked for one of his many companies before, and your sorry excuse of a boyfriend was the reason you were even at this party in the first place. Derek and him used to know each other a while back but they haven’t spoken in years. He still dragged you to every single one of Derek’s insane parties, only to abandon you halfway through.

When the parties died down and you got too tired to keep your eyes open, you’d find him trying to sneak around with one of Derek’s hookers.

Derek pulls a vape from his pocket, his eyes fluttering as he wraps his lips around it and inhales. While he speaks, sickly sweet vapor blows into your face. “What’s a girl like you doing here alone?” His head tilts to the side as he takes another puff of the vape. 

“I’m not alone.” You cross your arms, your eyes not leaving his. A smile creeps down onto his face as he makes a big show of looking around you. “I don’t see anyone, sweetheart.” His voice is low and gravely, a telltale sign that he’s a bit tipsy too. The smell of whiskey on his breath mixes with the artificial vapor, making you dizzy. 

You take a step back, looking around for the man you came here with. Your eyes land on him sitting on a velvet couch, women with scandalous dresses surround him and run their hands through his over-gelled hair. Derek follows your line of sight, his eyes squinting as he sees him. “Really? That fuckin’ loser?” He laughs, throwing out more insults. “Are you really here with him?”

You look back over to Derek, your hands finding their way to your hips. “Why is that so shocking, Danforth?” He laughs, scratching the scruff on his chin. “I’ve scammed that bastard hundreds of times. He’s just a dumbass. He’s got no business being here with a beauty like you.” You know you should turn around and bolt through the front door. You also know it’s definitely a bad idea to tease someone a part of a family as powerful as the Danforths, but something entices you. 

Fuck it, it’ll be fine.  “Huh. In that case, I guess I’m not here with anyone then. Are you interested?” You give him a sly smile. “Oh, that’s cute.” He smirks, his calloused hands finding their way to your chin. He tilts your head up, bending down to put his face inches from yours. “Sorry, Honey. You’re drunk.” You shuffle closer to him, your noses just barely touching. His eyes flicker down to your lips, his tongue swiping over his own. “So are you.” 

He laughs, taking his hand away from your face and straightening back up. “Not enough.” He takes one last look over you, his eyes lingering on your breasts. He mutters something incoherent to himself when he turns to walk away. “Hey- Wait.” 

Your hand wraps around his wrist and you pull him back into you. His breath hitches in his throat as you press yourself against his crotch, already feeling his bulge. “You sure?” You slur, the alcohol taking over your senses and filling you with a burning desire you’ve never felt before. There was just something about the way his eyes undressed you, shamelessly focused on each curve of your hips. You want him, and you know he wants you too.

What you don’t know, however, is he’s almost ready to rip your tight little dress off and take you right there in the middle of the room. His frankly perverted thoughts are interrupted as you slowly grind against him, his pants getting tighter by the minute. He groans and doubles over, his hands gripping your waist. His fingers dig into the skin, making you whimper.

He groans with clenched teeth in your ear, “Fuck.. You’re just a slut, aren’t you?” His degradation does nothing but make the fire inside of your core burn brighter. You feel like you’re going to explode if he turns you down again.

“Please…” You whine into his chest as your hips slowly begin moving against his again. You glance around, noticing people begin to stare and whisper. Derek doesn’t even seem bothered as he grips you tighter. He curses again, every amount of hesitation pulled out of him. He grabs your arm roughly, finding the closest bedroom.

He quickly pulls you both in, pushing you against the door with one hand and locking it with the other. He pushes you further against the wall, his thigh riding up into your crotch, spreading your legs further apart. He yanks up your dress to your hips, your panties and legs exposed. 

His lips quickly find yours, his hands sliding down to your wrists. He pins them to the wall behind you, kissing you harder. You shiver as his tongue slides out and drags across your lips. Your lips part, inviting his tongue to slip inside. You whimper against him as you feel his tongue brush yours. 

The rough fabric of his suit pants grinds against the thin cloth of your underwear. You buck your hips against his thigh harder, your panties soaking through and turning the light green fabric of his pants dark. He bounces his leg against your core. You whimper into his mouth as his thigh continues to hit your clit. 

Derek’s lips wander to the skin of your neck, sucking the sensitive skin. You start grinding against his leg harder, feeling your stomach tightening. You moan louder as your back arches against the door. By the noises you’re making and the way your back is arching, Derek can tell you’re close. 

He whispers in your ear, his hot breath tickling your neck. “You wanna cum? Hm? You gonna cum for me, sweetheart?” You nod and groan louder as his leg quickens and his grip on your wrists tightens. Just as you feel yourself slipping away, his thigh leaves your clit. You whine, feeling the euphoria quickly get ripped away. “You’re going to have to earn it, Love.”

His hands leave your wrists and grab your shoulders, pushing you to your knees. The rough carpet scrapes against your knees. You look up at him through your eyelashes, his crotch inches away. Without a second thought, your hands find the cool metal of his belt buckle. You quickly undo it, his pants falling to his ankles.

His tight boxers leave next to nothing to the imagination, the outline of his erection is very visible, begging to be free. You notice something sticking through the fabric. You quickly pull down his boxers, interested to see what it is. His dick springs up, slapping his stomach. He’s pretty girthy and he’s already leaking with pre-cum. The most striking thing, however, is the frenum piercing right below his tip.

You look up, raising your eyebrow. “Really?” He laughs, his hands tangling in your hair, gripping it. “Never seen a dick piercing before, honey?” You shake your head, millions of fantasies filling your brain. All you can think about is how the cool metal will feel sliding in and out of you as he stretches you out. He pulls your head closer to his erection, daring you to do something. “There’s always a first time for everything.”

Your tongue pushes past your lips, dragging it from the base of his cock to the piercing. The cool metal drags across your tongue. Your hand finds his shaft and you slowly drag it up and down his length, keeping eye contact the whole time. He looks down at you, biting his lip and grunting as your pace increases.

He throws his head back as he feels your tongue swirl around his tip, taking it into the warmth of your mouth. You slowly bob your head up and down, only going as far as the piercing. It drags across your mouth, the metallic taste overwhelming you. Derek’s hand drags you forward, your head pushing down further. The tip repeatedly slams against the back of your throat as his hips begin thrusting forward.

You gag, your eyes filling with tears. You scrunch them shut, your hands reaching out and digging into his thighs as he continues his assault on your throat. With every thrust, he tests you by pushing further and further. Spit drips out, dripping down your chin and running down the front of your chest.

The sounds of your gagging and choking fill the room as Derek begins groaning louder. His movements quicken, his grip on the back of your head tightening. Blackened tears from your smeared mascara roll down your cheeks, mixing with the spit and pre-cum.

Derek pulls your head back, pulling completely out of your throat. You begin to gasp, trying to catch your breath. Before you’re able to, he pulls you back forward, slamming into you again. No one has ever done such a thing to you before, and it overwhelms you. At the same time, you can’t deny you love it. The feeling of his fingers tangled in your hair and the feeling of him pounding into your throat fills you with nothing but pure lust and need. You buck your hips against nothing, your ruined orgasm from earlier begging to catch up to you. 

After a few times of Derek pulling out of your mouth and slamming back in, his movements get more sloppy. “God- Fuckk…” He groans loudly, not caring about the partygoers dancing right outside down the hallway. “I’m- I’m gonna…” His deep, gravely moans from earlier dissipate as whimpers leave his mouth. His lewd, almost pathetic noises flip a switch in you. You start bobbing your head faster, trying to match his rhythm. 

His hips stutter, and he slams back into your throat one last time. Hot ropes of cum shoot down your throat, filling your mouth with a salty-sweet taste. He doesn’t pull out until you swallow every last drop. Once he’s finished completely, he yanks you up, pulling you over to the bed. “You’re such a fucking slut…” He says as he gets on top of you, kissing down your collarbone.

He reaches behind you, unzipping your dress. He yanks it off of you, throwing it across the room. He quickly does the same with your panties, throwing them behind him as well. His eyes engulf your naked figure, not leaving a single part unseen. He resumes his earlier actions, this time kissing down to your bare chest. His lips find one of your nipples, taking it into his mouth. You moan as he swirls his tongue around it, pinching the other one between his fingers. He takes it between his teeth, gently pulling on it. You whimper, your arousal getting almost too much to handle. 

To your dismay, he pulls away, removing his hand as well. He glances up at you through his long eyelashes, his big brown eyes shooting through you. You grind your hips up against his, desperate for any friction you can get “You want more? Hm? Use your words, sweetheart.” He pins your hips against the bed, not letting you have any relief. 

“Please.. Please.” You whine. “What? Please what?” You throw your arm over your eyes, your face lighting on fire. You hate how much he’s toying with you, but at the same time, it just makes you want him so much more. “Please, please fuck me.” He smiles, a satisfied laugh leaving his lips. “Good girl…”

He spreads your legs open, his middle finger dragging through your folds. “You’re so wet for me already..” He gasps out, his eyes widening. His finger slowly slides into your pussy. You gasp as he adds another thick finger. Both fingers curl further up, pushing against all the right spots. 

You feel him lining yourself up with your entrance, his dick rubbing against your clit. His fingers leave you, quickly being replaced with his tip. You slap your hand over your mouth as he slowly inches in. You feel his calloused hand roughly yank your wrist down, pinning it to the bed. “I want to hear your pretty moans.” 

Your hips involuntarily arch up as he pushes you further. You do as he says, your moans getting louder. Your head begins feeling fuzzy as you feel a slight burning. You don’t know how much more of him you can take. Finally, after what feels like centuries, his hips meet yours. The feeling of his piercing sliding against your walls is something you’ve never felt before. But you definitely don’t hate it. 

He leans down, his lips capturing yours. He slowly begins thrusting his hips, groaning into your lips. He continues to thrust slowly, making sure you’re comfortable.  “More... Please, Derek.” You plead, getting exhausted from his painstakingly slow pace. He pulls his lips away from yours, looking down at you. A smirk creeps onto his face,  his eyebrows furrowing. “You sure you can take it?” You pull him back down on top of you, only whimpering out his name.

He immediately pulls out, slamming back into you, hitting your G-spot. You scream as he begins to relentlessly pound into you. His teeth find your neck, biting the skin beneath your pulse You dig your fingers onto his bicep, your fingernails leaving divots in his skin. Your back arches off of the bed as he continues to mindlessly ram into you.

He hoists your legs up over his shoulders, his hands gripping your thighs. He mumbles out praises as he watches you squirm under him. You feel yourself climbing closer and closer to the end, your legs already beginning to shake. His hand shoots out, gently squeezing your throat. You start getting dizzy, your vision blurring. 

Skin slapping skin fills the room, loud music still blaring from outside. Sweat rolls down your neck, your fingers digging even deeper into his arm. He starts groaning even louder as his thrusts start to have no rhythm. He tenses up, gripping onto you harder. He slams into your G-spot one last time before cumming into you. The feeling of his warm cum coating your walls throws you over the edge, nothing but bliss spreading through your veins. Your whole body shakes as you come down from your high.

He pulls out of you, laying down next to you. You sigh, his cum dripping out of you and running down your leg. You're sweaty and hot, but you don’t regret a thing. If you could, you’d do that a hundred times over. You look over at him and he gives you a suggestive grin.

“You should let your boyfriend drag you to my parties more often…” 

[gloriousburden]

What's the most untrue and ridiculous Loki take you've ever heard?

As of recent events, as well as not so recent events… that Loki is not at all evil/that he cannot have aspects of evil, because he is a victim of abuse. It’s a bad way to view not only fictional characters, but real life people as well in all honesty. I don’t fuck with that sort of rhetoric of viewing people as inherently innocent in EVERY single act that they commit just because they are a victim of abuse. Acknowledging that victims of abuse can do wrong is not taking away from the abuse that they faced. Some dumbass shit.

Loki’s reserved behavior automatically equals that he’s hiding every aspect of who he is because he hates himself. He can only be happy if he’s bouncing off the walls. 🤦🏻‍♀️

One of the most annoying ones for me is always going to be that Tumblr post that said Loki is 17 years old because a bunch of people started taking that seriously. HE IS PLAYED BY A MAN WHO WAS PUSHING 30. It’s a dumbass way to view fictional ages. People do this with Mipha from the Legend of Zelda too. She’s 100+ years old, but is technically an older teenager/young adult, because that’s how her species ages. We can accept bird people, enemy mobs as a whole, and a talking tree, but not the fact that a fictional race of FISH PEOPLE age differently from Hylians/other Zelda species, and have different standards of age in their culture. THAT’S what’s unlikely to them lol.

That he would prefer Laufeyson as a last name. I understand why some people think that it’ll help separate him from Odin, but in all honesty… it may be even worse. It’s tied to his background, which he hates. And he has no love for Laufey. It “others” him even more. He is Loki of Asgard. “Laufey’s Son?” He hated that.

I think this one’s a bit biased due to being an enjoyer of historical accuracy, but people HCing Loki as easily loving VERY modern Midgardian things (that don’t have any sort of familiarity to him) irks me. His ass would NOT love artificial sweeteners as soon as he is straight out of Asgard!!! Maybe he will in the unforeseeable future who knows. BUT NOT RIGHT NOW GIVE HIM TIME! Oh and obviously people treating Loki as a modern Midgardian and not as an ancient god. Let him be weirded out/bewildered by modern concepts please it’s fun!

Shit I’ve heard a whole LOT of worse ones why can’t I think… obviously, any takes that justify the series. Any takes that justify mischaracterizing Loki.

I do really dislike the fanon impression of Thor 1 Loki being an innocent baby. Not innocent as in his actions, but as in his amount of intelligence. He obviously was done very wrong and was a victim, but why do we have to act like he was a naive character in every single aspect? He gets woobified REALLY badly which sucks because Thor 1 Loki is so interesting. He’s intelligent and he didn’t just become intelligent because he was wronged.

Erm… I’m really trying to think here…

Honestly, takes that take away from Loki’s actions. Or any takes that HEAVILY blame him. Obviously, any takes from casual MCU fans who love the series and try to justify how the variant was mocked and belittled 🤢 any takes on OG Loki that use the series as a source.

Yeah there’s definitely a whole lot of worse ones i could go for hours about series related shit but..

I’ll come back to this if I think of anything.

Thank you for the asks they make me think a lot and I appreciate that LOL you’re cool

[sugarnsmokerings]

Scaramouche brings an injured Lumine home, and try as he might, he can't completely hide the harrowing feeling of old wounds opening upon seeing her injured.

Part Two to this: https://www.tumblr.com/sugarnsmokerings/775195023057764352/dumbass-lumine-gets-just-a-bit-injured

But can be read on its own. c:

Swinging the door to the Teapot Abode shut with his foot, Scaramouche promptly plops Lumine onto the couch with a dull thud.

Working quickly, he swipes one of the throw pillows from the opposite end of the sofa, lifting the injured leg by the ankle and stuffing it underneath the appendage before lowering it back down. The wrappings on her lower leg now quaintly propped.

He stands up and turns away, before promptly pausing to fix her with a glare and a pointed index finger.

"Stay."

It's almost as if he were referring to a dog, but Lumine knew better than to bother to take offense. It would only encourage him afterall. Maybe that sort of behavioral training on her part would make him the dog if anyone.

With that, he marches off, disappearing down one of the many winding halls. The subtle clacking of his sandals deadening until she was left in silence. Her head slumps against the armrest with a sigh before hazarding a glance down at her blighted leg, frowning in discontent. Scaramouche hadn't actually told her how bad it was, but she could already tell it'd surely keep her out of commission for at least a full day. Both literally and figuratively. "Stupid Lawlachurl..."

Amidst her musing of misgivings, a shrill, yet familiar, screech pierces the still, artificial air, coming from the direction Scaramouche left in.

Paimon.

She was in the kitchen, presumably stress eating given the Traveler's unintentionally extended absence. And Scaramouche had also presumably told her about her injury, and knowing him... he presumably did so in a rather gaffe manner.

This theory is all but confirmed as the poor wooden door is slammed open by the shrill squealing fairy.

"TRAVELERRRRR!!!"

She zooms her way over to where they lay. Clasping her face in her little hands and looking over her with abject terror. Quite the overreaction really. She looked like she was staring right at her casket.

"Traveler, what happened?!? You told Paimon you'd be no longer than thirty minutes! Thirty. Minutes. But you were nearly two hours! Paimon waited and waited and waited and you never came back!"

Lumine's mouth scrunches in a mixture of guilt and thinly veiled annoyance. She didn't have the energy to console her with the earnestness she usually would, but she couldn't leave her there practically sobbing to herself in her worry. But as she moves to sit herself up and open her mouth, she's abruptly interrupted.

Scaramouche had followed her out, now setting a cup of hot tea on the side table next to her, a bit harsher than necessary given his annoyance, not taking his eyes off Paimon all the while. His sandals were off and so was his haori, his indigo hair largely tucked behind his ears, a few errant strands poking out all the same. He had clearly been interrupted in the midst of cooking for her. How domestic. Lumine bites back a smile.

"Archon's sake, you pixie, she's not dying. She's just a dumbass who got herself smacked around a bit too much."

Paimon's expression contorts from a brief look of relief to annoyance at his rude remarks. She fixes her slumped posture, holding her head high and crossing her arms. "Pffft. Y-yeah well... can't blame Paimon for being worried about her friend! Not that you'd understand!"

Scaramouche raises a thin brow. Oh, how he could beg to differ. Merely shaking his head, he turns to leave once more. The once whimpering companion seemingly consoled. "Yeah, whatever. Make yourself useful for once and make sure she stays seated."

And he's gone again as fast as he reappeared.

"Of course I will, but not because you told Paimon to!" She retorts haughtily even though he's practically out of earshot, coming to float besides Lumine's legs,

Lumine sighs exasperatedly before turning to Paimon. "What did he tell you?"

Paimon stiffens, her gaze sliding away from her beloved travel companion. "Paimon doesn't want to say..."

She narrows her eyes at Paimon's side profile, that's just about what she expected, albeit worried she would say. That asshole...

While Paimon eventually flutters off to go rest away her previous panic, Lumine's gaze drifts back to the steaming cup of tea he had brought her, and the occasional clink and soft clatter coming from behind the kitchen door... An asshole to be sure, though perhaps, not completely hopeless.

Gingerly propping herself up with the armrest, she takes the cup between her two hands and steadily brings it to her mouth. Chamomile. With just a taste of honey. Just how she liked it.

The kitchen door swings back open, that familiar frumpy face carrying a small, ornate ceramic tray. He strides over to her, stopping only as his knees press against her own stretched across the couch.

"Move." He states tersely, nodding towards herself currently taking up both cushions.

Lumine obliges, gingerly shifting into a sitting position, taking care to not put pressure on her wound. Scaramouche watches silently the whole time, his gaze insistent but not at all impatient before sitting down beside her. Allowing her curious gaze to survey what was atop the quaint tea tray.

In the center, a bowl of porridge was giving off a heady scent, dotted with lush green scallions and a boiled egg cut down the middle sporting a deliciously jammy center. Her personal mini teapot was to the right, presumably filled with a replacement cup of her chamomile tea, and a half drank cup of his own. And finally to the opposite of the bowl was a simple mini dish of meticulously cut berries.

Lumine hadn't been thinking much about her stomach really, for once, but she sure was now as her gazes flicks along the perfectly set serving tray. Eagerly taking it from his outstretched hands and setting it on her lap with an excited gaze to which Scaramouche rolls his eyes at. Her and her food.

"Don't cram it all down at once, that went so well for you last time." Once she's adjusted the tray adequately on her thighs and began to eat, he gently lifts her leg onto her lap. Pulling the small medical pouch he keeps on him just for her out of his pocket and setting it beside him as he gently begins to undress the original dress job he had done just well enough to subdue the bleeding.

Lumine of course, doesn't seem to care at all about his fussing, nor his concerns about her bad habits as she spoons the savory porridge into her mouth. Eager, yet still not indecorous in her mannerisms.

There's a beat of silence, only interrupted by the tugging of cloth and the clinking of cutlery. Eventually, Scaramouche is the one to break it as he stares at her bloodied skin with a pinched brow. "...You've got to be more careful." He sighs, crumpling up the soiled cloth and setting aside before pulling a roll of bandaging from his bag. The movements gentle and considerate as he cleans the area, his free hand absently rubbing the skin of her knee.

Unperturbed, Lumine nearly shrugs, still munching away without a care. "Oh, come on. I told you, it's fine! It's just a flesh wound, I've had way worse." She remarks with an edge of smugness, prideful of her exploits.

Scaramouche's expression darkens, his fingers on her knee squeezing somewhat, not taking his eyes off her leg. "I mean it."

She pauses, her exultant expression dampening at the drop in his tone. Oh. Oh, stupid, stupid, stupid. Who was she kidding? Of course he wouldn't be too lackadaisical about it, he who already lost everything he loved once, even himself. If it were to happen again, would he... She shakes that train of thought off. No, she didn't want to think about that. Not right now.

"...Sorry."

Noting the vulnerability in her tone, his lip twitches downwards imperceptibly. He shakes his head, rubbing over the same spot, even as it's free of any remaining blood. "Whatever."

Whatever? Oh no, he doesn't. She's not letting him withdraw on her now. Not after that. She sits up, leaning forward. "No, not whatever. I know what you're thinking, so why don't you talk to me?"

Another twitch. This time of the eye. But she was long past being even slightly intimidated by him. Even as he puts on that low, dangerous tone of his. The one that means, "back off." "...If you already know, then why the hell should I say it?"

Lumine's lips press into a flat line, taking a moment to think through her response. She knows she has to tread carefully here, even if her injured state is a leverage in her favor. Beneath it all, he really was still delicate to the point of potentially shattering once more. A veritable glass cannon in the flesh, with all that it entails.

"...I want to hear it from you."

...No response. Though no deflections either. That's good. So she pushes onward.

"You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to, I know that, but you don't have to hide from me either."

She bites her lip, so far so good. Nothing was said that he could've possibly gotten defensive over. "So... why can't you tell me what's wrong?"

He finally stops scrubbing that clean spot with a sigh, his gaze pointedly down at his hand clutching the cloth.

"...Never again. And definitely not with you."

"I'm not going anywhere."

Scaramouche scoffs derisively. He's heard that before. "You better not." He uncorks a small jar of ointment, smearing it across the seam of the gash, not so much as reacting to her tiny hiss of pain at the feeling.

Still staring at his side profile, she wants to say something else, but what? He wasn't exactly an easy one to console. Closed off, yet devastatingly vulnerable. Abrasive and haughty, yet with far too much insecurity for his own good. Every reply, be it trite, heartfelt, or blunt felt ill fit. "...I do mean it. No one can get rid of me so easily."

"I know." He says. His voice has softened, but that cadence is back again, tucked in his undertone. The one trying to shake her off. And this time, she reluctantly lets him. At least she's said her piece, even if it was a heavily Scaramouche-sanctioned version, and not what she really wanted to tell him.

A slightly awkward silence falls between them as Scaramouche finishes dressing her wound up. Lumine having set the tray aside on the table, watching his gentle movements while idly sipping her tea.

How badly she wanted to get through to him. More than she already has anyways. To console his aching heart properly, rather than skirting about the glaring issue with carefully selected replies that feel more manufactured than anything adequate.

But what would he do if she did? Would he merely tell her to buzz off and leave it at that? Maybe, most likely actually, but the more grevious scenarios still kept her hesitating. She understood wholeheartedly just who and what he was, and who he's shown capable of being. Lumine makes no excuses for it, nor does she make allowances on his behalf, but it was the searing pain forcibly carved into his hollow chest that allowed himself to be led astray so virulently in the first place. That very pain that had forebode the metaphorical albatross hanging forevermore along his neck. And for that, she also doesn't make allowances.

Still, she knew better than most people that the only way out is forward, just as well as she knew the metaphorical heart racketing away inside his vacant chest.

Heart. Too much heart.

How ironic for that to be the vice card he's dealt. The quintessential tell all for where it all went wrong lay in that frail core that just wants to be loved above all else.

Scaramouche finishes up on her ankle, running his fingertips over the bandage, making certain there was not a bump or a lump out of place and retracting his grasp.

"There. Now for god's sake, be a little more careful."

Lumine smiles softly, her leg still strewn across his lap. Careful is not a word in her vocabulary, and she rarely cared to include it, but love is a thing defined by a willingness to compromise. "I will... be more careful... for your sake."

There's a quirk to his lip that she could almost swear was a suppressed smile.

"...Good. Because I'm not going to keep pampering your ass every time you decide to be an idiot."

It's a lie, and they both know it, but she's content to let him pretend she finds him so tough.

She laughs softly, gazing back at him like she couldn't believe he exists. Like a sad, little withered flower learning to bloom again.

"Then thank you for pampering me." She pauses, glancing back at the nearly empty tray beside her, a smirk finding its way onto her mouth. "...And speaking of which, I could use more tea."

He raises his brows incredulously, fighting a losing battle to look annoyed before giving up entirely. He sighs to himself, that presumed affectionate smile now on full display as he stands up. He very gently places her leg back onto the couch cushion he was sitting on like it was priceless glass, giving her head a quick ruffle as he walks by. Muttering to himself loud enough for her to overhear.

"Dumbass..."

[mannequinreligi0n]

Hiii!!

I loove your fics and lately I've been begging for some new Nero fics 🫡🫡

Could I request a fic with Nero and fem!reader where they're really good friends and yknow It's really cold outside and they both have to stay in an inn. Maybe one of the two offers their bed? And they both finally give in after a long while of hidding their feelings.

I really really crave some cute fluffy Nero smut, reader being her first🤭

Don't stress too much about this, and of course you can choose to write it or not!!

Thank you sweetie🫶🫶

ty for this !! i love a good ‘oh noooo, there’s only one bed’ trope.

tbh im not the biggest nero lover so this was a slight challenge but it ended up pretty good and a lot longer than expected lol. i also didn’t know how to end it but i hope you enjoy !!!!

Two Pals, One Bed

an unexpected storm puts you and nero in an unlikely situation

PAIRING: DMC5 Nero x afab reader

WARNINGS: (NSFW!: first-time/virgin!reader, fingering, penetration)

WORD COUNT: 2k

🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟

The sheets of rain pounded on the windshield of the van, making visibility hard on the patchy road. You flicked out the wrinkles in the map, squinting in the light of your phone to see the web of routes.

“Can’t see a damn foot in front of me like this.”, Nero grumbled from the driver’s seat. “No thanks to you, by the way.”

His pointed blame made you crinkle the map in your hands. You both had been driving for seemingly hours, trying to make it home from a job, but the storm was making it hard to navigate the backroads.

“There’s an inn after the next right, we’ll duck from the rain til morning.”

Nero sighed and shook his head. “We would’ve been home by now, if it wasn’t for your dumbass.” He peered over the steering wheel, on the lookout for the upcoming turn.

“Nuh uh,”, you started, a scowl on your face, “don’t pin this on me! I don’t control the weather.”

“Whatever.”

Nero makes the right and after a couple miles of silence, the faint beacon of lit windows pierces through the gloom. Pulling into the lot in front of the inn, Nero parks the car and hops out. You follow suit and hastily trail behind him, using your bag as cover from the harsh rain. Entering the inn, you walk slowly to examine the tacky decor - artificial fish and paintings of sunny beaches mocking your drenched clothes. Nero makes a beeline to the front desk and is quick to return with a set of keys in hand.

“We got lucky. Seems like everyone had the same idea, but they had one room left.” Nero pats you on the shoulder and cocks his head toward the direction of the stairs. “C’mon.”

You nod and follow Nero up the stairs to your appointed room, sighing in relief to be out of the storm. Nero drops his backpack on the desk and stares at the single queen-sized bed in the center of the room.

“……..one bed.”

“One bed.”, you repeat. It seems that the universe thought it would be funny if you two shared a bed after a night of endless bickering and side-eyes. You eventually shrug and flop down on the bed, looking up at Nero. “I mean, we’ve slept in worse conditions, right? You remember the cyclops cave?”

That earns a tiny smile from him, chiseling away at the tension from earlier.

“Thanks for reminding me. It’s not like I spend every waking moment trying to forget the smell of decay and ball sweat.”

You both laugh and you feel the frustration slowly leave your body. Nero digs around his bag for a change of clothes and heads to the bathroom to change. You take this as your cue to do the same, pulling out a clean shirt and pair of underwear and discarding your old ones in the corner of the room. You crawl into the bed, flicking on the tv and settling in. Nero returns a few minutes later, changed and seemingly back to his easy-going self. He switches off the lights and gets into the bed, leaving some space between you both. You both watch a rerun of an old sitcom before Nero breaks the silence.

“I’m sorry for being an asshole to you. You were only trying to help, and I shouldn’t have taken my anger out on you.”

The apology doesn’t take you completely by surprise, considering that Nero is the most levelheaded person you know, but you appreciate it nonetheless. You pull the covers up over you, sinking down to lay on your pillow as you address him.

“Don’t worry about it, Nero. We’ve had a long day and have gotten thrown every which way - it’s no one’s fault. Besides, I’m happy it was with you and not with anyone else, it could’ve gone a lot worse.”

Nero nods in agreement but he’s not lost on the subtle flirting in your last sentence. Nero glances down at you resting form, your eyes trained on the tv mounted to the wall. For the past few weeks, it seems you two have been dancing around the obvious for the sake of staying focused on work. But considering that you both are literally in the same bed, it’s hard to ignore now. You look up to him, his face turning a pretty pink from being caught staring.

“Was there something else?”, you ask, noting his blush.

“You’re really pretty.”

Nero blurts out the compliment, heart starting to pick up from embarrassment. ‘Reaaaal smooth, Nero. Bet Dante would get a kick out of this’, he thinks to himself. Your own face turns red in response, a shy smile on your face.

“You really think so?”

“I know so.” Nero starts, sliding down to be beside you under the covers. “And smart, funny, brave.”

You stare at him with awe, in disbelief that those words left his mouth. Without another breath, you lean to the side where he’s laying and kiss him. It’s a gentle, tentative kiss, but full of meaning and longing. Nero’s brain short-circuits and it takes a second before he returns the kiss. Slow and cautious, your mouths explore this newfound feeling. Without breaking away, Nero rolls on top of you, hands running up your sides. Feelings of excitement and anxiety intermingle in your stomach and you break the kiss to look up at him, eyes wide. Nero returns the look with concern, his hand cupping your face.

“You okay? Did…did I do something wrong?”

“No, I-“, you cut yourself off, building up confidence before speaking again. “I need to tell you something.”

Nero raises his eyebrows, interest piqued. “You know you can tell me anything.”

You gulp and take a deep breath, making sure that this is really happening. You look down at the empty space between the two of you as you speak. “I’ve never gone this far with anyone.” You pause, frowning slightly. “I mean, I’ve messed around but I’ve never actually….slept with anyone before.”

Nero runs a hand over your hair and kisses your forehead sweetly. There’s a clear look of understanding on his face. “Y/N, you don’t have anything to be sorry about. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. And if you don’t wanna do anything now, I won’t hold that against you either.”

“I want to, I’m just nervous.” Your eyes have a vulnerability to them, like you’re already standing there naked in front of him.

“It’s okay to be nervous. Fuck, I’m nervous. But, it’ll be okay, as long as you enjoy it. And if you change your mind or need me to stop, that’s okay, too.”

With his reassurance, you nod and pull him back down to reinstate the kiss. Nero sighs into your mouth, happy to be connected again. You feel his hands snake down to your thighs, running over the exposed skin with light touches. As scared as you were, everything felt right in this moment. Your own shaky hands moved to tug at his shirt to help him out of it. Nero yanks the shirt over his head before reaching to pull down your underwear. He stops and looks up at you, waiting for the green light from you; you give him an eager nod and he proceeds. You feel his fingers brush against your sensitive bud and your breathing hitches in your chest. His fingers move slow, tracing circles into your flesh as his mouth trails sweet kisses to your ear.

“You okay, sweetheart?”

Nero’s soft voice and tender touches elicits a moan from you, almost forgetting to reply to him. You turn to look at him and mumble a ‘yes’ out, hips rocking against his hand. Nero hums in content, moving his fingers to your already wet slit. He toys with the hole for a moment, testing the waters in case you change your mind. By the way you’re sighing and whimpering, he takes it as his sign to go on, pushing in two fingers slowly. Your back arches, jaw dropping silently. Pumping slowly in and out, his strong, slender fingers tease your g-spot. Your hands fly to his shoulders, gripping onto him for support. Minutes go by as your climax builds up, your walls pulsing around his fingers. Before you can warn him of the oncoming wave, his fingers slip out, making you groan in disappointment. He laughs at your noise, slipping off the rest of his clothes.

“Easy, tiger. I got more to give, believe me.”, he chuckles. Leaning down to kiss you once more, he positions himself between your legs. “Ready, pretty girl?”

You nod and smile into his mouth. “Ready.”

Aligning with your slick, Nero pushes into you with a moan of satisfaction. You bury your head in his neck, stifling a cry from being stretched. Nero’s arm comes up to wrap around your head protectively, cradling you in comfort. Once fully in, he stays still to let you adjust to the new feeling. You feel your breathing slow down and you nod again, letting him know it’s okay to move. His cock slips almost completely out of you until he pushes it back in, repeating this until he creates a steady, sensual rhythm. Mewls from you are muffled by how close Nero’s holding you - his free hand hooking under one of your knees to lift you ever so slightly. Over and over, the head of his cock hits that sweet spot and you feel your orgasm start to build back up, ready to satisfy the delay from earlier. The moment feels surreal, considering how many times you’ve dreamt of this moment, and you flex your fingers every now and then to remind yourself it’s really happening.

You look out from your safe place in Nero’s neck and see him above you - eyes shut, mouth ajar, and a sheen layer of sweat making him glisten in the light of the tv still playing. The display from him is what sets you off, knowing that you’re the cause of it. Your core tightens and those familiar electric pulses make your body quiver with pleasure.

“O-oh, god, that feels so good…. I’m gonna…gonna…”

“Let it out, I’ve got you.”

The encouragement from Nero is all you need to let go, a wave of pleasure taking over all of your senses. Your legs shake around Nero and a sound you’ve never heard from yourself before fills the room. Fuelled by your reactions, Nero chases after his own high, fucking into you passionately. Sweat dripping down his face, he looks down at you with an adoring smile before his eyes squeeze shut, followed by a series of whimpers and curses. Your walls milk him free of every drop of seed, the feeling overwhelming for him. You stare up at him in awe, your vision going in and out from your own orgasm.

His thrusts slow to a stop, allowing him to collapse on you. Both of you lay there panting, the heat of your bodies almost overbearing. You run your hand up and down Nero’s back, soothing him through the end of his orgasm. Eventually, Nero lifts his head and gives you a weak kiss, bumping his nose to yours.

“You did great, y/n. Seriously, that was….”

“Amazing.”, you finish for him, a giggle following it.

“Yeah, that.”

Nero pushes himself up and out of you, rolling onto his back beside you. He reaches over and pulls you into his arms, stationing you to lay on his chest. You can hear his heart thumping strongly, beating a lullaby to you.

“Get some rest, beautiful. You’ve earned it after that.”

You start to protest sleep but a yawn betrays you, realizing how warm and safe you feel in Nero’s arms. As minutes pass, your eyes grow heavier and soon close for the night, your breathing deep and slow. Nero’s hands tangle in the strands of your hair, twirling them mindlessly until sleep triumphs over him as well.

[rat-rosemary]

Omegaverse discourse is fun because everyone else goes "Omg Dream is an alpha! Literally look at him, look at the way he grabs george" "I have no idea what you're talking about he's literally an Omega just look how he dresses" and then my dumbass appears with nothing but a unreality tag as a warning with

"Yeah I think whoever came up with the concept of a ad that uses artificial scents to try to get you to buy a product should be hunted for sport, I can't even begin to imagine the health hazard that will be, specially in places like busses, metro stations and malls that can get very crowded and more often then not have pups in them, who shouldn't be interacting with artificial scents. I will bet my entire liver that in a week we'll have a case of someone getting clogged scent glands because of this shit and then I will scream"

[shattered-person]

CHAPTER 5 (YESSS GUYS)

Chuuya sighed, he had never been on a date. But he thought it was going to be simple since he knew what he was doing.

Going to watch the fireworks of the 14 July, with the boy he asked to go with.

He was wrong. Very wrong.

He didn't really know the boy. Chuuya just saw him at the park and started drawing him. Hell, he asked him on a maybe date without even knowing his name.

It was a wonder that he didn't get rejected.

"It's that way, idiot!" shouted Chuuya

"Oh, yeah!" the boy now known as Dazai, grinned at him.

The pair were on their way to the Eiffel Tower and took the walk as a chance to get to now eachother.

Properly, this time.

For know, Chuuya had learnt that the boy was named Osamu Dazai and that Dazai was an idiot.

The ginger didn't really know why, but the brunette had this way of irritating him. Or maybe it was the fact that he started calling him short and nicknamed him "Chibi".

Despite that, Chuuya continued the conversation, trying to know more about Dazai.

Chuuya pictured him as an unknown country, that he wanted to discover. But the country was full of bugs and mosquitoes, which annoyed him. Very much.

"So, you're clearly not French, what brings you here? Are you a tourist?"

"Me? What, no! I'm here to study abroad, same as Ranpo, the boy that came with me."

"Oh,"  Chuuya was reassured, he didn't want to have a relationship, platonic or romantic, with someone that was going to leave him soon anyway.

"What university are you starting at?"

Dazai took a sip of the lemonade he bought early, on the way. A thoughtful look on his face, he answered, "Uh, something called "La Sorbonne" I think."

Chuuya's jaw dropped. "LA SORBONNE!" he shouted loudly. "Are you serious!? Oh my lord, La Sorbonne!"

"Is it really that big of a deal? I mean, it's just a university and all." stated the other

"Just a university?" whispered  the shorter one. "Are you nuts? Do you have any idea of how many great names went there? Not to mention they have one of the best art program in France!" shouted the waiter.

"Yeah, yeah, so what? You wanted to go? Chibi mentioned the art program? Is Chibi an artist?"

"Tch, piss off. We're here, let's take seats." The redhead quickly changed the subject but Dazai didn't miss the light blush forming on Chibi's face.

Dazai looked around and saw that indeed they did arrive, there was an arrangement of seats, that would've tripped the boy over if it wasn't for his new friend.

"Thanks," mumbled the brunette

"Whatever."

                                   •••

Fifteen minutes later, the duo were comfortably seated, waiting in the dark for the show to begin.

"It's soo long!" complained the bandaged boy to his friend.

"Stop complaining dumbass, it'll start soon."

And right on cue, without warning, the first firework appeared. It was blue and orange and was nothing like Dazai had ever seen before.

"Wow, it's beautiful," whispered the brunette out loud

"Of course it's beautiful they're fireworks,"

"Stop ruining my fireworks chibi." stated Dazai flatly.

"Tch, shut up jackass."

To Chuuya's suprise, the boy actually stayed quiet during the entire fireworks display.

Smiling, the waiter turned his attention back to the sky, after having observed Dazai for a while.

The man's eyes were shining at the sight of the artificial explosions and Chuuya couldn't help but wonder what was going on in his mind.

                                   •••

An hour later, to Dazai's disappointment, the fireworks ended and everyone gradually left.

"That's was so so good!!" exclaimed the student joyfully.

"Told you!"

"But when are the next oneee? I wanna see more fireworks!" questioned Dazai, visibly upset.

Chuuya blinked, he hadn't expected his friend to be that eager, "Um, well probably next 14 july or maybe Christmas,"

"That's in soo long!" complained the brown haired man

"I swear all you do is complain," grumbled the redhead angrily.

"That's not true Chibi! I do other stuff than complain! Like annoying you!"

"I pity Ranpo"

"Oh yeah Ranpo! I forgot about him! Don't worry, he's a great guy!"

"How do you forget your own roommate?" questioned Chuuya, disbelief lacing his voice.

"I'm a man of many talents!" exclaimed Dazai proudly.

"A man of many talents whose hungry, apparently," laughed his friend, as he heard Dazai's stomach growl.

"Ah, you're right I am hungry but what can I do. I don't want to bother Ranpo, he told me he's meeting Poe. Perhaps Chibi will help?"

Chuuya grumbled an insult, he knew restaurants were closed at this hour and he had no reason to accept, but the redhead couldn't just leave someone's stomach empty. Even Dazai.

"Fine, but I live quite far away, you sure you wanna walk that far?"

"Now that you say it like that, it does sound bad, perhaps Chuuya has an idea?"

Chuuya grinned, before walking off, urging the brunette to follow him.

                                      •••

"No."

Dazai was now staring at a red motorcycle convincing himself that he was not going on it, but one look at the ginger that accompanied him and he knew there was no escape.

"Oh, come on don't be an asshole, it'll be fun and it's the fastest way to get home." laughed the waiter, clearly amused.

"Where did you get a motorcycle in the first place?" Dazai asked calmly, trying to change the subject.

"Uh, well my friend Albatross gave it to me as a birthday gift when i turned eighteen," Chuuya responded.

"Ah, well it sure is beautiful, but I can't go on it. Sorry!" smiled the brunette sheepishly.

"Nuh uh, you're getting you're ass on there!" stated the redhead firmly.

                                   •••

Dazai's felt the freezing wind crashing brutally against his cheeks. It was painful, in a way. He didn't like pain.

The university student didn't understand how could anyone like riding on this monster with wheels, but apparently Chuuya did.

Dazai observed as the ginger in front of him flashed the most wonderful smile the boy had ever seen. Dazai decided that it was one more mystery Chuuya held the answer too.

For now, instead of trying to find an answer to the secret, all the boy could do was enjoy the moment. Which was very hard. Very, very hard.

So, naturally Dazai did the most normal thing he could think of: cling to Chuuya.

In the crushing night cold that surrounded them, Dazai had indeed discovered that his new French acquaintance was like a personal heater and when Chuuya cruelly decided to go faster, the bandaged boy hugged the ginger even more. Of course, it was for a life or death situation.

"Oi, bastard what you hugging me for?"

Dazai was pretty sure that Chuuya had shouted but with all the wind in his ears all he heard was a faint whisper.

"I'm trying not to fall Chibi, you should be nicer to you're master." responded the boy calmly but loudly enough for the waiter to hear him, even if barely.

He didn't hear anything in return but the brown haired man could practically sense Chuuya's mouth spitting an insult.

Dazai chuckled slightly. He had a feeling that annoying the ginger would be more fun than anything. •••

Chuuya didn't understand a damn thing right now.

First, he decided to bring home and feed a boy he met about 6 hours ago.

Then, he had requested that his new found friend sites on his motorcycle and finally, the boy in question was now hugging him like his life depended on it.

No, Chuuya didn't understand a damn thing right now.

•••

Chapter 5 ✅

Hope you liked it!! Ash/Alex

[diz-eaze]

I read your albedo, artificial kid, and attempted deadbeat s/o, and my brain had a dumbass thought. The s/o being a yandere scientist as well, but they're trying to clone albedo but not as a family member but as a meat locker. A series of brain-dead clones to harvest flesh and organs in the event of something happens to albedo.

Key word trying.

Hey albedo, honey, baby girl, sweetie. Quick question. What the fuck are you exactly?

minor 5.6 spoilers !!

since the human transmutation of durin involved mentions of flesh, embryo, and heart - I think it's safe to assume that albedo also has flesh, bones, and organs inside that freaky body of his.

and a yandere reader,,, yes yes !! i also like yanxyan dynamics a lot <33 but in order to create a clone, let alone several, we need to take into account the powerscaling in the genshinverse. normal people, even average alchemists, don't have the capabilities or intellect to produce such outcomes. the only known characters known so far to create artificial or transmute life are rhinedottir and albedo. dottore's segments and sandrone's creations lean towards mechanical engineering iirc so i doubt they count. so perhaps that only way (y/n) can match albedo's freak is by being rhinedottir's student around the same time when albedo was still traveling around with his mother,,, hm,,,,

perhaps that's where your obsession with each other started. a budding romance between two disciples of an infamous khaenri'ahn sinner. he finds himself enamoured with you, of how the moonlight peeks into the decrepit domains the three of you research and venture into. albedo finds himself comparing you to the vines that grow on the surface of eroded rocks; he hopes you'll cling to him in a similar fashion.

albedo tightly holds your hand, an act of comfort, after rhinedottir leaves with only a letter and vague instructions left behind. in the aftermath of it, the bond between the two of you strengthens. in the vast continent of teyvat, only albedo knows you in an intimate manner - only he knows the thoughts and actions that you hide from the public eye. the same can be said for him, too.

you love him, and he loves you too. but being raised in the fallout of the cataclysm, away from any human settlements, messes with any growing person's moral ground and mindset. rhinedottir's already amoral attitude only worsens this, and in turn affects the way you and albedo perceive the world once you step foot into it.

albedo is not a heartless killer, but you are.

in the pursuit of creating clones with the same DNA and genetic makeup as him, with the intent to store and preserve their organs as a safety net should something happen to your dearest one, the law of equivalent exchange demands something back.

and you choose your repayment in the form of human lives.

[micia5]

It had taken way too long for me to continue but here is my 3rd run from my playthrough, I really want to continue this so let's hope I'll get to it sometime this month

Run 1

Run 2

Run 3

Chapter 1

I am back, not quite alone yet also with no real company, stuck in my thoughts I don't talk much this time.

Hero seems scared of taking action, I still agree with him to some degree, I decided to leave THE BLADE again

Out of all that is happening observing seems like a thing I did not do much of, so I stayed silent and looked even less so asked but I needed to say something so I did

I asked about the reason why Narrator thinks that she is to end the world, she became angry after I stayed silent, the anger seems more lively and true than the artificial emotions of the one before her

I want to stay with her as a company, freeing her seems wrong after the last try but I don't want to leave her alone or kill her and make Narrator Happy

She turned... cold, the change is kinda creppy, she decided to scare me

SHE THREATENED ME

I Don't Like Any Of The Choices Narrator Gave Me

I Want To Lock Her Down There Without Me Now

I Hear Her Trying To Get Out, 'm scared

don't want the pain... please spare me

The death doesn't come quick but it's not full of pain like I expected either, I die terrified but only hurt on inside

Chapter 2 The Nightmare

The Paranoid is with me and heck don't I understand how he feels right now, I want good, wanted to DO GOOD, To BE GOOD

Instead I am back in the beggining again

Taking the knife seems like a way to do this... but I can't... it's... it's not right...

I Don't Like This

The stairs are weird, the void doesn't want to take me either...

She found me... and decided to play with me

Don't know what Paranoid is doing, but it's the only thing keeping alive, so am thankful

She wants to get out, would that free us? I hope so, and since I am risking hoping I'll get her out of here

Narrator tries to take control of the body again, is he fucking dumb? Can't he see that it barely works? "A voice of reason" A dumbass is what he is.

Paranoid says that we can still slay her since THE BLADE is on the way

Hero's incompatance let her get rid of THE BLADE before we got to it

I am Alone Again yet it feels better than time previous

I have withered?

She talks a lot but gives no answers

She is trying to make me forget, she is unaware that I remember this whole time

And my Paper Notes (Yes they are wildly different, that's normal)

I know the picture quality is not perfect but the image descriptions contains a transcription

[tartsinarat]

Luz decides to try alchemy and Pip offers to help.

For a week Luz has to use a mechanical arm and leg as a replacement for her real one and Pip’s soul is stuck inside an armor until Eda finds another philosopher soul.

They’re both surprisingly cool with it, especially since Luz can now cast magic without glyphs.

Can’t believe I’ve managed to inadvertently summoned some fma fans to my blog but like tbh the ven diagram between fans of toh and of fma probably does intersect quite a bit with how similar both series are in specific aspects so im not too surprised, but im definitely not complaining as its one of my favourite manga’s and anime’s ever :3

(Oh also be prepared for a long weirdly philosophical tangent at the end…sorry not sorry)

As much as I love this idea/reference I actually don’t know if it could happen? Like in the previous ask that stated a similar idea to this one but with smol King and Pip I kinda let it slide mainly because it’s King who ends up getting the same fate as Alphonse

But because it’s Luz and Pip, with Pip specifically in Al’s place, I’m kinda torn between being like “yeah let’s make it canon to the au as it’s really in character and fun” to “hold on- would this even make sense lore wise?”

Like not because it’s not something that wouldn’t happen, like let’s face it…They're both really smart but when they’re put together, are just complete dumbasses and don’t even realise it. So it’s a kinda given that these two would fuck around and find out so hard that they literally loose an arm, a leg and a whole body.

Though on the other hand I’m not actually 100% sure if Pip (also Hunter as well) even has a soul in the first place for Luz to stick inside the armour?

Like from what I’ve gathered from the show is that a grimwalker is essentially a homunculus (specifically one based on 16th century European alchemy but obviously wayyyy more pg as European alchemists in those times do be wildin) but with maybe a touch of necromancy involved? So they may not actually have souls due to being artificially created which I find really interesting

There’s also the added bonus that Pip is just meant to be an eventual replacement body for Belos so it could be the case that Pip is an empty vessel of sorts so he’s easier to eventually possess and just fully take over

Also I really don’t like the tropes associated to soulless characters, it feels kinda reductive and dehumanising to reduce a person’s emotions and personality to whether or not they have a soul (I guess that’s the point in most media as the soul is usually associated with humanity but I don’t see a show like the owl house even if it’s just an au doing something so tropey, without at least subverting it? As well two of it’s important themes are understanding and acceptance, like it’s not going to dehumanise someone just for the sake of it due to something they can’t control)

Which is why instead, it really doesn’t matter if they do or do not have a soul, with or without it wouldn’t change how Pip’s (and Hunter’s) personality or personhood in any way as that’s who they are and have grown to be like due to their lived experiences. Like Pip wouldn’t just suddenly act less arrogant and emotionally constipated if he had a soul or act more so if he didn’t, as that’s just how he is. If that makes sense?

Also if they were soulless, it would be interesting to explore their dynamic with Belos if that makes sense? Like they act more “human” and empathetic than their creator who sees them as lesser and disposable despite being living, thinking beings who can feel and act freely? Like it’s pretty interesting to think about overall

But yeah unfortunately this is one of those things that’s really complicated to explore and do it justice so I’m probably going to leave up to interpretation for now? I don’t feel equipped enough to handle something that’s so extremely loaded with the grace it deserves and needs with my currently state of maturity and writing

So uh in short, this ask is now both canon and non canon at the same time, your welcome :D