#yes this is about When It's Cold I'd Like to Die

[super-nova5045]

"everyone being gay in the 80s is unrealistic" babes not only do they have interdimensional monsters and telekinesis but they also have songs from 1995 playing in 1983 and 1986 but pop off ig

[hotvintagepoll]

hotvintagepoll Hot Men Tournament rundown thoughts

I promised a final recap post and here it is! I'll try to cover the questions I saw the most as we closed out the bracket, reveal my ✨secret faves✨, and talk about the biggest surprises and turnarounds I saw in the brackets.

Yes, this will get silly.

ROUND 1

As I've mentioned before, I worked off submissions for who to include in the bracket, so if your fave was missing—that's why. I used submitted pics when I could, but many submissions didn't have one, so I tried to find decent ones in the couple of days I had to prep the first round (I didn't always succeed). By decent, I mean pics where 1) I could see the hot man's face, so not too much moody lighting, and 2) hopefully conveyed something about his vibe, even if it was a funny thing (yes, I showed Howard Keel in full Shakespeare get-up—I'm not beyond putting up a pic because I think it's funny). I didn't know all of these hotties going in, so some I had to guess with, but when I could I tried to pick shots that had a touch of the humor, class, or genre of the hot man.

For Round 1 and Round 2, I grouped the hotties by each decade, so only '60s actors ran against '60s actors, '50s against '50s, etc. Male beauty standards shifted pretty dramatically over the sixty years this tournament covers, and I didn't think it was fair to pit dramatically different styles of beauty against each other immediately.

I pitted hot men against each other based on opposing energies—hot vs cold, elegant vs rough, comedy vs drama, etc.. I wanted the polls to be interesting and I've never liked brackets where everyone is clearly in different "lanes" until the finals! I also wanted to make polls where I couldn't tell which way they would swing, so by setting matchups that felt opposite but equal, I got to be surprised by the bracket results too.

The only reason we had any three-way matchups is because the amount of men submitted didn't round to a nice bracket number. I don't like them generally and find them really hard to balance.

Secret faves from Round 1—I am a James Coburn girlie and knew he would die immediately, so that was not a shock but a bummer. I similarly knew Robert Preston is only magical to people who have seen him do His Little Dance Routines in That One Iowa Musical, but it would have been nice for him to last longer.

Surprises—Jeremy Brett was a last-minute add and I didn't think he really had a shot, so I put him in as a third wheel on the Sean Connery/Dean Martin matchup. Little did I count on the Granada girlies. (Always count on the Granada girlies.) The Elvis/Peter Falk poll was the first one to gain any momentum—Elvis was winning for the first 24 hours but then, my god, did Peter fight back. I didn't expect the Tab/Toshiro poll to make that bad a mincemeat out of Tab—people have different tastes, and I thought the people who like blonde sunny All American white boys might turn out for The Blonde Sunny All American White Boy. Sorry, Tab. I hope you've peeled yourself off the sidewalk by now. And, of course, I was SHOCKED and APPALLED that James Cagney would be obliterated by, of all people, Mr. Bing Crosby.

SHADOW BRACKET

The fervor of the Harold Lloyd and Fredric March people inspired the shadow bracket, and I couldn't be happier at the way it's gone. You were right, the original photos I had for them did suck. Cunty Harold Lloyd in his little life guard uniform was a revelation.

ROUND 2

For Round 2 I'd gotten a better sense of who was doing well and who was not, so a little of that came into play, but I mostly paired on vibes again. (I genuinely think this is a good way to make a fun, challenging bracket.)

Secret faves—Noooo not hot dilf Dick Van Dyke don't take my hot inventor dilf away uwu!!! (He was up against Marlon Brando. I would have been shocked if he'd won but for a minute there, a glorious second, it was possible.) I am also a big old softie for David Niven's particular brand of repression to the point of volcanic rupture, but he is one of many hotties who does not look good without moving and speaking so I figured he would be going.

So much beef—hey! hey you. I ran a poll asking if we are horny for dancers. Yes, was the resounding poll response. Where, then, did all the fucking dancers go? This round we lost Donald O'Connor, Fred Astaire, Harold Nicholas; Sammy Davis Jr., Danny Kaye, Frank Sinatra, and Bing Crosby all sneak into this category as well, by token of having been in the kind of big MGM bang-a-pan-and-put-on-a-show beloved bedlams we all watch at Christmastime. Round 2 voters HATED musical matchups. Except for one.

The one—SOUND OF MUSIC, the voters said, WE LOVE SOUND OF MUSIC. we will KILL the man responsible for salad dressing because of the SOUND OF MUSIC. every other dance man can die but THIS man dances a FOLK DANCE with JULIE ANDREWS in a GARDEN. I did not go into this poll with strong opinions about Christopher Plummer or Paul Newman but my god did I leave having heard all of them.

Surprises—James Edwards/Anthony Perkins matchup was a nail biter! Conrad vs Oscar kept me up at nights. Surprised to see Basil Rathbone survive against Sabu Dastagir—both very fetching, but Sabu had some top-tier propaganda. Cesar Romero put up a surprisingly stiff fight against Cary Grant (an omen for things to come).

Oh horrors—horror heroes surprisingly fell all over the place. I was sure either Bela Lugosi or Turhan Bey would sweep their three-way matchup, but Michael Redgrave of all people carried through; Boris Karloff went down against Johnny Weismuller (while holding hands with fellow fallen hottie Fred Astaire), but at least we got his guacamole recipe before he went. Delighted to see that the Venn diagram of the coalitions who support horror hero Vincent Price and funny lil guy Donald O'Connor is a circle.

Secret faves pt 2—oh yeah, I fucking love Danny Kaye and Donald O'Connor. RIP funny lil kings.

ROUND 3

For some reason this was the hardest one to make matchups for. Oh no, all the men are hot.

Secret faves—Michael Redgrave i love you SO much you're SUCH an idiot, how did you make it as far as round 3. I want you to sweep the whole thing but you should NOT be surviving this. I love you, here's a kiss, go home.

Surprises—Marlon Brando is gone! Errol Flynn is gone! Christopher Plummer exhausted himself beating the organic oreos man to death and goes out with a whimper. Beginning to actually see the roots of #mifunesweep as Tyrone Power, a hot man very different from Burt Lancaster, who was in turn very different from Tab Hunter, also gets swept under the wheels of the unbeatable toshirobus. Conrad Veidt finds that no amount of purring svelte eccentricity compares to the people who will fuck a young Lt. Columbo.

SHADOW BRACKET 2

Cannot believe it but Veidt loses this one too. Perkins sweeps and becomes Prince of the Shadow Realm!

ROUND 4

At this point I've set a formal bracket that I'm following.

Secret faves—this isn't secret anymore, but losing Jimmy Stewart hurt.

Surprises—The Gene Kelly/Jeremy Brett matchup was the diciest one all round, moving back and forth between the two by sometimes .01%. Far more surprising, however, was Cary Grant getting eliminated before the quarterfinals. Grant has never been my type, but he is famous for being THE type, so while the writing had been on the wall the whole tournament—how on earth did Michael Redgrave even get 36% in his matchup?!—seeing Grant go down was a SHOCKER. Other fallen hotties included Gregory Peck, James Dean, Harry Belafonte, and Sessue Hayakawa. Peter Falk finally met his match in Omar Sharif.

QUARTERFINALS

Secret faves—I don't know if it counts as a secret fave, tbh, as my horses in the race really went out with Stewart, but I do have a soft spot here worth mentioning. Here's my childhood dog, Keaton.

The resemblance is truly striking, and yes, he was short, fast, and not prone to smiling.

Surprises—I couldn't predict how any of these matchups would go down, but I was most interested in Keaton vs Sharif, as they are both SO hot in SUCH different ways.

SEMIFINALS:

This was such a good batch of semifinalist contestants. By this point I think we could all tell Mifune was unstoppable (though I thought Sharif might give him a run for his money), but I really didn't know which way Robeson vs Poitier would flip.

FINALS:

I wanted Sidney Poitier to pull a last-minute sweep out of nowhere, but alas, Toshiro is just THAT GOOD (maybe. I will admit that I find Toshiro's domination a little hard to believe, given the variety and hotness of all his competitors; the man is hot but all these men are hot). I'm still happy with how the tournament went.

FINAL MEDITATIONS:

Biggest shock of a dropout: the loss of Paul Newman

Biggest "you people have no taste": the loss of James Cagney

Biggest victory: Paul Robeson making it to the semifinals over often-assumed champion Gregory Peck

Biggest coalition who deserve justice: dancing men

Biggest ask character: vents anon (currently eating Laurence Olivier)

Biggest, uhh, anything: how many of you are here! I genuinely thought it would be me and 10 other people voting for the whole tournament. I'm thrilled it took off like this!

I think that's everything, but I'm happy to answer addl asks. And THANK YOU to everyone for your tags, rants, impassioned propaganda, beautiful pics, and love for the hot men! See you for the ladies!

[yawnderu]

Together — Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

"In another life, I'd have the privilege of meeting you under different circumstances." His words were comforting as the cold started taking over your bodies, his gloved hand holding yours.

"In every single life, I'll be looking for you, Simon." His name was never sweeter than when it came out of your mouth. Simon was cursed, Simon lived a never-endind nightmare both as a civilian and as a soldier, but right now? Simon was the luckiest man alive, holding his loved one's hand as life began to slip away from them.

"I'll always look for you, love." His voice was weak, yet oddly calm for someone in his situation. They were separated from their group and badly wounded, yet as he began to accept this was their end, realization hit him. For once in his life, he felt deserving of something. All those thoughts about not even deserving to survive after his family was murdered seemed to be pushed to the back of his head. You didn't deserve this. Simon didn't deserve this, and there's no way in hell Ghost is going to give up. He's a fighter, for fuck's sake.

"Stray?" His gaze drifts down to her, taking in the way she's looking at him, the way she's looking at him like he's worth something, like he deserves the world, yet Simon doesn't want whatever the world has to offer.

"Hm?" Came your soft hum, throat sore from screaming into the comms after the mission failed and you were separated from Price and Gaz. It hurt, yet you didn't know what exactly it was. It was a stinging feeling all over that gave you shaky hands. It made you want to throw up, to claw on your skin until you could find what exactly was wrong, and to rip it out of your body once and for all. To be able to feel your body again, to be able to open your eyes without flinching at the harsh light, to be able to hear your own thoughts.

"I just want you to hold me." Ghost replied softly, groaning as he used all the strength he had left to help you up by the waist, making sure you could get on your feet before he leaned on the wall for support, soft groans and pained growls leaving his lips as he limped alongside you. "Don't let go."

Despite all the pain he's suffered, all his struggles and trauma, this moment feels different— it's like a release, a way to soothe the chaos his broken mind faces daily. He'd rather die fighting alongside you than fight alone. Within you, you're holding him together. You hold his heart, his pain and struggles, his mind, his soul.

"What has two legs and bleeds?" He asked out of nowhere, deep voice strained by his pain as he walked alongside you, holding you close. You were about to protest before you remember why he's doing that— he's trying to keep you awake, and he's trying to ease the tension and fear by joking around. Though this is commonly done by SAS soldiers, it's comical to see The Ghost doing it too, so you decide to entertain him.

"What?" You ask softly, a small grin on your face as you prepare for the shitty joke.

"Half a dog." He answers swiftly. Though you can't see his face due to the balaclava, you can see the slight shift on the mouth part of his mask, his eyes twinkling as they narrow slightly. He's clearly fighting off a grin, yet the dumb joke makes you laugh. You don't know if it's the blood loss making you delirious, or if the joke is actually that funny. Probably the blood loss.

"That was awful." You say, yet you're still giggling about the stupid joke. You both manage to make it out of the building, looking around at all the destruction caused by the enemy. No hostiles appeared to be near, luckily.

"Ghost, Stray, do you copy?" The comms break you both out of your daze as you stare at each other, immediately fumbling for the radio.

"Yes, sir." Ghost replies to Price, his deep voice now more professional as he requested medevac. For once in his life, Ghost felt human. Almost dying, yet more alive than ever. Maybe all his torture was finally worth it in the end, maybe for once in his life, he'd be able to have something nice. Something to call his. His hand reaches down to gently hold yours, squeezing it softly. I love you.

[patrophthia]

take you to the basics | theodore nott

pairing: theodore nott × hufflepuff!reader

genre: fluff, (kinda) established relationships, theo is whipped, even more fluff, everyone are friends, everyone is an idiot, self indulgent, 7th year (after war), theres ginny here too, not beta read, awkward theo bc it’s cute, theo is basically just tall, and not buff ver of jeon wonwoo from svt

word count: 3.9k

is a sequel to love is sour grapes but can be read as a one shot as well!

With as much care as he could muster in his tone, he asks. "Will you give me the honour in courting you?" And then, as if he was realising he's supposed to take things slow -even though his intention was, and will always be, courting me- he corrects himself. "Will you give me the honour of being my girlfriend?"

What a way with words he has. I'd like to think it has something to do with the romance books he'd been reading just so he could have something to talk to me about all these months.

"Do you want to be my boyfriend?" I counter after a beat.

Theodore stayed quiet for the briefest second before: "yes."

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"You're my boyfriend."

"Oh." There's a second of silence where neither of us spoke before my face breaks out into a smile, one that he doesn't bother to hold himself back from reciprocating it. "Okay."

Why was life so complicated? Okay, maybe not so much life —why was dating Theodore so complicated? That is if the two of us were even a thing. It was okay at first, now it's just plain out exhausting.

I like him and he knows it. And he likes me, and I know it. So why was things so complicated? We've kissed before, multiple times actually. We've gone on dates where we spent a majority of the time talking about the books we read —although it's more like me talking and him listening with that stone cold face of his, but that was just who he was and I would never change it about him.

What I do want to change though is whatever is going on between us. I've already embarrassed myself in front of him once and I would rather die than do it again. So what should I do in this situation? Talk to my friends apparently.

"I don't get it," says Hermione with a frustrated tone. "You both like each other and he acts like your boyfriend." I nod slowly and she continues. "But he isn't actually your boyfriend."

I nod again. "Yup."

"He didn't ask?" Ginny asks, now having joined our little friend group. Ron and Harry listen reluctantly, not enjoying the girl talk all too much.

"You have to ask?" Ron asks suddenly, obviously clueless. And when Hermione, and Ginny shoot him a look. He turns to his plate, mumbling. "I thought you'd be boyfriends and girlfriends after the third date."

"That's normally how it goes," I said. "After the third date the two of you are technically a thing but it isn't official until one or the other asks to make it official."

"Why don't you ask him?" Harry says suddenly, immediately regretting it when all our attention was fixed on him. "I mean maybe, he —like Ron and I— don't know about these things so he just assumes—"

"That's not excusable," Hermione cuts him off. "He's friends with a girl, Parkinson, so I'm sure she's filled him on this stuff."

"But what if she didn't?" I ask. Okay maybe I had a soft spot for Theo and is trying to give him the benefit of the doubt. And in my defence, I liked him, like a lot, and when you fancy someone, like really fancy them, the red flags tend to look like a dark shade of pink and I'd like to think that pink was a pretty colour.

Plus —and this isn't just an excuse, if I really thought about it, I don't think I've ever seen Theodore go out with anyone before he went out with me. So if he was a rookie at this dating thing, maybe I should be the one leading this relationship.

"Okay then go ask him," Hermione says pettily, she wants me to be happy, she really does, but she can't find it in herself to support me dating someone who can't make it clear what his intentions with me were. "Ask him 'what are we?' Or 'why did you tell me to not smile at other people?' I can't let you be with someone who doesn't know their place with you."

"And what makes you think he doesn't," Ron chimes in between a bite of his snack, when did he get one, I didn't seem to notice.

"You see her?" Hermione asks, she then says my name in the same questioning tone. "She wouldn't be talking to us about this if he did."

"Wait, aren't you supposed to be on a date with him right now?" Ginny says suddenly. "Why are you here?"

"He had last minute plans with Malfoy," I say, and I know, even without looking at her, that Hermione was disappointed with me. "And it wasn't a date."

"Yeah, just two people who fancy each other hanging out," Ron snickered, now being on Mione's side of disapproving of Theo.

"Did he tell you what he was doing with Malfoy?" Harry asks, curious as to what the Slytherins might be up to.

"I don't know," I told him. "I'm already stressing about this whole situation with him that I just accepted and went to find you four. I think I'm just going to take off my makeup, spend the day with you, then try to sleep good tonight."

I then added. "Unless you had plans that didn't include me in it?"

The four shook their heads. "We were just going to go watch Harry and Ginny practice." Hermione says.

"Great," I mumbled, standing up. "I'll come with."

"Wait," Ginny calls out, and I pause in my step, turning to where her voice came from. "I'll be quick."

She points at her shoe and it's then that I notice that it's been untied. Ron, Hermione, and Harry, who seemed to have not heard her, continued their way towards the quidditch pitch. I waited by her side, offering her a hand when she had to get back up.

"You know," she says lowly, "I heard that you're the only person Nott didn't reject, apparently he's pretty popular with the girls."

I shook my head. "That's not true," I say with a slight frown. "When I first asked him out, he just stared at me."

"Which technically isn't a rejection," Ginny smiles sweetly. "More like you rendering him speechless."

That was exactly what Theo told me after my first date with him. "I guess."

"Bloody hell, will you two please speed it up?" Ron shouts at the front of the quidditch pitch, only now realising that we're far behind them.

I felt half the urge to walk even slower, and from the small grin Ginny wore from the corner of my eyes, I'm pretty sure she was thinking the same thing. But Harry and Hermione were also waiting with him, and it was only a matter of time before they started bickering about it as well. So we sped up with our steps.

But just before we reach the pitch, Ginny stops me, yelling for them to go ahead without us. "You want to know a secret?" she asks, I nod. "Since I was Harry's first real girlfriend I had to be the one to ask him to be my boyfriend."

"Are you saying I should be the one to ask?" I murmur. I don't think I would mind doing so, but there was something more romantic about having your date ask you to be your boyfriend.

"No," she says kindly. "Just saying you should nudge him in the right direction."

"So guide him?"

"Yep."

Okay. That is surely something I can do. Now, for me to draw up a plan on how to do it. If I've managed to help take down a dark wizard then surely I can get Theo to ask me to be his girlfriend.

Both Ginny and I step into the quidditch pitch. Slightly taken aback to see more than six players in the field (with Ginny being the missing member), it didn't take us long to register why though.

Neither did it take me long to notice Theo, standing right behind Malfoy as he bickered with Harry. What was happening? And did Theo really ditch our (not) date just to watch his friend's quidditch practice?

"Badger," Blaise says suddenly, drawing everyone's attention to Ginny and I by the entrance. "I see you look pretty as always."

Theodore doesn't even bother to subtly smack his friend in the back of his head. It doesn't affect Blaise though, only finding it amusing to witness.

"What's going on?" Ginny asks.

"We booked this pitch," Malfoy says before Harry could get a word in. "And now you're trying to take it from us."

"No, we booked the pitch." Harry says sternly. "You're the one trying to take it away from us."

Despite Gryffindor and Slytherin (somewhat) friendship after the war ended —and the fact that our friend groups were now mixed because of whatever Theodore and I have going on. They were still competitive people. And they want more than anything to win this year's cup.

"I have an idea," I say, quite honestly done with their stupid rivalry. "How about you practise together?" I say off-handedly, knowing full well that they'd agree to come for my throat. "Just an idea."

"And have they found out about our strategies?" Malfoy scoffs. "I thought you were smarter than this."

Considering that I did better in classes then him, and that Ron agreed with his words. I technically am smarter than him. "Well if you're so sure about your strategies working then it wouldn't hurt if you gave up the pitch for just one practice right?"

Draco was on the brink of agreeing when it hit him, blinking at me. "Oh you're good," he murmurs. "Fine, have the pitch for all I care."

I was more than sure that he was only giving it for my benefits. Sure that if it had been someone else who had said it, he'd only double down and insist that he'd reserved the pitch (he didn't, not a single Slytherin booked the pitch for today). But it seemed as though he had a soft spot for me.

The theory of Slytherins having soft spots for Hufflepuffs gets proven right once more. And I'm more than glad to know that I was the beneficiary of this theory.

Blaise was the first to leave, waving at me as he went as the other Slytherins followed after him, the players grumbling under their breath with their brooms in hand. Theo was the last to leave, lingering just so he could pull me to the side.

A hand on my left arm leads me to a quieter corner of the pitch, just below the benches as the players start to get ready for practice. I don't look him in the eye when I ask him, "what?"

The hostility in my tone wasn't missed by Theo and if I didn't know him the way I did, I would've missed the flash of hurt in his eyes. "What do you want, Nott?"

And Theodore feels as if I was stomping on his heart. He hasn't been called Nott since the two of us started going out. "Are you mad at me?"

My brows furrow. "What do you think?"

"Did I do something wrong?" He follows up, his tone doesn't show it —neither does his face, but he was worried, scared, and quite honestly pissed with himself. "Is it because I cancelled on you? Doll, you said you were okay with it."

"No," I shook my head. Confrontation wasn't something I was fond of, nor was I good at it. So I'll settle with just being upset for now. "I'm not mad at you."

Theodore blinks, seemingly getting whiplash from my words. First I ask him what he thinks, in a —if he wasn't wrong— passive aggressive tone, and now I'm telling him that I'm not mad at him? What.

But he decides to take my words as is, trusting that I'd tell him how I feel despite him not telling me that he honestly feels like he'd fucked him over; ruining his only chance at love —oh, and that he doesn't even know what he did. "I'll see you at dinner?"

"No," I say with a slight shake of my head. "I think I'll have dinner with my friends tonight." Theodore fails to mention that Blaise, Draco, and Pansy were also my friends by now. "Next time?"

Theo nods, agreeing. "Next time."

It has been three weeks and 'next time' has yet to come. He's starting to realise it now: realising that I was actually mad at him when I said I wasn't and it'd be a lie if he said it didn't hurt him. He has somehow made me mad and he wishes more than anything that he was dead —because, quite honestly, he can't stand living if I was mad at him.

He needs to recruit help, he decided. And who better to help him with relationship problems than his friends (who he thinks has more experience with relationships than he does) and my friend (whom he knows has more experience in relationships then he does —take Granger and Weasley for example, the two have been together since fourth year).

"So you think she's mad at you and you don't know why?" Weasley comes to the conclusion after Blaise, who he'd already told the whole story to, summed it up for them. "You seriously don't?"

Theodore nods slowly, there was a slight shift in his stone cold expression, barely catchable by the eye but it was there. And it was that slight shift that reassured Hermione that Theo did actually have good intentions when it came to her friend; he was just clueless on what to do.

"She's upset with you because you said you were busy and left her to watch your friends practice," Ginny offers, it was clear that she was also mad on my behalf.

"That's it?" Malfoy mumbles questioningly. "Something as mundane as that is what we're meeting here for?"

"It might be mundane to you but it's not mundane to her," Harry jumps to my defence. "She's not you, Malfoy."

"Okay, so she's mad at Theo because he ditched her for us?" Blaise asks, trying to get them back on track.

"Don't say it like that," Ginny scoffs. "Phrasing it that way makes her seem selfish, which she's not. She just wants to know where she is with Theo and for him to at least try to prioritise her."

"I do prioritise her," Theo says dumbfounded-ly. He really did, he's spent the last however many months of his life reading cheesy books just to annotate them in hopes that I'd love them, he'd even picked up on cooking just so when (or really, if) we ended live together I'd always have a nice home cooked meal waiting for me. "She said she was okay with it."

"She said she was okay with it thinking that it was something important," Pansy explains, understanding exactly how I feel. She's been placed in the same position before, by no one other than Draco himself. "Thinking that Blaise had a heart attack or something, not a stupid quidditch practice."

"Careful," Draco warns. "You were also at the practice."

Pansy rolls her eyes. "Bite me."

"What do I do then?" Theo asks after a while, picking the topic back up.

And the Gryffindor's try their best to remain normal, never —in the last seven years they'd spent studying in the same castle as him— had they heard him spoken for such a long period of time.

"Well let's take you to the basics," Hermione says. "Where are the two of you right now? In terms of relationship that is."

"We're dating?" He answers slowly.

"No you're not," Ron says loudly. "You haven't asked to be her boyfriend yet."

Draco, clearly befuddled, says. "You have to ask?"

Pansy nods. "Of course," she says. "I thought you knew?" And then, after a beat, she adds. "Maybe that's why we didn't work out."

Draco rolls his eyes, mumbling something along the line of his fathers as he does so. "So what should he do then?"

"Apologise for what he did then make it clear what the two of you are." Harry explains, he's done this before, he did it when he first went out with Ginny —so really, he's speaking from experience. "From then on you take things slow so you can work out the kinks of your relationships.

Okay, he thinks he gets it. He has to apologise, make things clear, then take things slow. Surely he can do it.

Now for him to actually do it.

STEP ONE: apologise

Which is, more often than not, easier said than done.  Theodore has half the heart to buy something nice in order of winning me over but he knew me better. And he knew that I wasn't with him for his money. So he ought to do better. And he thinks he knows how to do it.

To apologise he should do something heartfelt, which was why he'd found himself learning to plant my favourite flower. He'd rather die than apologise to the one person he cherished more than anything empty handed.

He sees the few cuts on his hand from his attempt at gardening and he hopes that I don't notice it. He doesn't want me to notice his imperfections when I was (to him) perfect in every sense. He likes me every time he sees me, I was exactly his type and he hopes I know it.

He doesn't want to mess this up. He doesn't want to mess us up. And he's really trying his best not to.

With our shoes almost touching, Theo stood tall from my seat on Hogwarts many benches with a planted pot in hand. "I'm sorry," he says first and I mask my surprise at his words. "I won't do it again."

He doesn't bother beating around the bush, with a gift in hand, safe to say I'm impressed. If not a little bit amused by how frustrated he looks.

"Why?" I ask, a hand reaching for the plant and Theodore hesitatingly hands it over, his own fingers brushing against my own. "Why are you sorry?"

"Because I ditched you for—"

"Sweetheart, I told you that it was fine."

Theodore's pretty sure his brain is short circuiting. He's heard every variation of his name by now. All of which he can recall from the top of his head. Theodore, Theo, Nott, even Teddy from that ex-girlfriend he had back in kindergarten. But sweetheart is different.

And he thinks he likes it. He thinks he likes it when he's called sweetheart. He thinks he likes it because he likes me. And I was the one calling him sweetheart.

"But your friends—" he pauses, correcting himself "—our friends said that you were upset."

Relationships are built on communication, and I know that it was hard for Theodore to do so. So I won't make it harder for him and lay it all out. "I was upset, yes. But I also said that it was okay for you to spend time with your friends."

And after a second, I added. "And it's not like I'm your girlfriend or anything."

Theodore frowns, taking a seat on the bench besides me.

STEP TWO: make things clear

His chest feels heavy at my words. He doesn't like knowing that I think I wasn't his girlfriend. Because, if I really wasn't, was it normal for him to like me as much as he did?

He has to say something.

"But you are, aren't you?" He asks, brows furrowed.

His heart is leaning, waiting and waiting for an answer. His eyes flutters shut, and he doesn't know it. Wishing and wishing that I would say something.

"Theo." My voice comes out softer than I intended for it to be. "Do you want me to be your girlfriend?"

His heart is speeding up. And he thinks that there should be a guide book on how to be in a relationship with pretty girls. But he guesses that he's being guided by one right now.

THE BASICS ON HOW TO DATE PRETTY GIRLS (FOR ROOKIES) by Theodore's and I friends.

His words get caught in his throat. Isn't it so incredibly obvious? He wants to say. Isn't it so incredibly obvious that I've bewitched him? He doesn't say it, but he does nod. And he hopes his nod conveys just how much he wants to be mine.

"Okay," I said first. "I'll be your girlfriend." But of course, things can't always be that easy. "If you ask me properly."

STEP THREE: take things slow

He blinks at me slowly. As if he's only just learning how to properly function; a shift in his eyes caught my attention though, knowing that he's finally processing my words.

He doesn't know why he's scared, he knows that I like him just as much as he likes me but he's nervous about it all. Forgive him for being new to this dating thing.

With as much care as he could muster in his tone, he asks. "Will you give me the honour in courting you?" And then, as if he was realising he's supposed to take things slow —even though his intention was, and will always be, courting me— he corrects himself. "Will you give me the honour of being my girlfriend?"

What a way with words he has. I'd like to think it has something to do with the romance books he'd been reading just so he could have something to talk to me about all these months.

"Do you want to be my boyfriend?" I counter after a beat.

Theodore stayed quiet for the briefest second before: "yes."

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"You're my boyfriend."

"Oh." There's a second of silence where neither of us spoke before my face breaks out into a smile, one that he doesn't bother to hold himself back from reciprocating it. "Okay."

"Okay." I nod. "So what should we do first boyfriend?"

Theodore mulls everything over before he turns to me, his hair falling into his eyes. "What do you want to do girlfriend?"

I can't tell whether his hand reaches for mine, or mine his, but I knew that our hands found one another. "Go on a Date."

Theodore lifts our intertwined hand up, placing a careful kiss on my hand as he nods. "Let's go on a date."

STEP FOUR (UNOFFICIAL): kiss, go on dates, be happy!

note: if this guide works, please take the authors (Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Ron and Ginny weasley, Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini, and Draco Malfoy) out to dinner, all expenses paid by guide user (Theodore Nott).

— from bee: i lost the initial draft for this which was a lot longer and had to restart all over 😵‍💫😵‍💫 this wasn’t what i had planned for it to be like but it’s cute and im happy with it anyways!!

some other songs i used for inspo for this fic:

say something - twice

rookie - red velvet

+ bonus scene: The table goes silent as Theodore picks up the check, waiting with bated breath on how much it came out to be.

And despite knowing that all the Slytherins + Harry would be able to handle the bill without making a dent in their vault, they're still all anxious to know the price.

Theodore pulls out his card, sleek, black, and hands it over to the waiter. Once the waiter left, he turns to us. "I'll buy you dessert if you can guess it."

The group starts blurting out numbers, startling the other customers but they couldn't seem to care less. Beneath the table, with his finger tracing the skin of my thigh. Theodore writes the price, and inching a bit lower, he adds; "make me proud, sweetheart."

Safe to say the group wasn't all too happy to know that I was the only one who not only guessed right, but was right number by number. Draco would later on whine about this, something along the lines of: "Girlfriend privileges."

[mondaymelon]

₊˚ෆ 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐁𝐎𝐘 | xiao, childe, kazuha, scaramouche x gn!reader

ˋ°•*⁀➷ cw: fluff. established relationship, yeah that's it. writer's block hits again!!

⤷ [ the little things they do when they think you’re not looking ෆ]

— xiao, who... glances at your fingers often, a longing gaze that's only present when he thinks your eyes aren't on him. he's too scared to reach out and take your hand, intertwining his and yours fingers together, despite how much he yearns for the feeling of you. he wants your warmth. it's bright, it's comforting, it soothes something restless inside him. your presence is radiant, like the sun's rays, and he wants to bask in it.

"xiao?" your voice snaps him out of his thoughts, and his face instantly warms the slightest. he's been caught, hasn't he? he slowly trails his golden eyes up to your face with a rather sheepish expression, like a criminal caught in the act.

"...yes?" shit, his voice sounds way too tentative. if you hadn't noticed anything off before, you certainly did now. his cold enough exterior remains as he watches you try to hold back a bout of laughter.

"love. if you want to hold my hand, you don't need to ask."

swiftly, like the cunning being you are, you take his hand in yours, just how he wanted to. there's warmth in your hand, and he can feel it through his gloves. not enough. he withdraws with reluctance, spurring confusion in you. "oh, did i assume wrong? sorry, i didn't think..." your words trail off as you watch xiao swiftly dispose of his gloves, and then his fingers are intertwined with yours, his callused hands against your smooth ones.

"then..." his face is noticeably red, and the gold in his eyes seems to have softened at your touch. he brings up the back of your hand to his lips, his words leaving the ghost of a breath lingering on your skin. "this is okay, right?" his fleeting lips kiss them in a way so gentle you'd thought never be possible, and you don't need a mirror to tell how flustered he's made you.

"xiao, you-"

"don't refuse me now, love."

— childe, who... tends to stand behind you a lot, just so that he can glare at whoever you're talking to that's speaking a little too comfortably. his dead eyes will give them a brief answer, and then he'll scoff under his breath, as if they aren't worth his attention. small pests like this lived to be exterminated, and he'd be happy to do the honors, but the way your smiling without a care in the world makes him pause.

"childe, we need to talk." your voice is serious. fuck, were you going to break up with him? had he not been good enough? fatui duties were so annoyingly persistent, but he'd finished them up as fast as he could so he could come home to you, like he promised... was that not enough? of course it wasn't enough, he should've-

"childe? i can see you standing behind that wall. get over here." his heart drops to his stomach, and he comes out from behind his hiding place with a wobbly grin.

"ahaha, you got me! what's... what's this all about?" his words die in his throat at the exasperated look you're giving him.

"childe, you can't keep doing this." doing what? "you're scaring all my friends and-"

"...friends?" there's astoundment in his voice, and his eyes are wide. "oh- i mean, yeah of course. what else?"

you sigh, yet your face can't help but break into a smile at his antics. "what, did you think i'd break up with you? no chance in hell. it's just that you've been glaring a whole lot at my friends lately and they've issued several complaints that i've had to endure-"

you're cut short as the taller man engulfs you in a tight hug, using a hand on the back of your head to press you against him. your face is on his chest, and through the fabric you can hear how his heart races.

"you can't scare me like this, love. not again, pinky promise?"

— kazuha, who... likes to smile. a lot. whenever he's around you, his serene expression changes, the corners of his lips curving upwards, eyes shining as he spots you from however far away. shh, don't tell anyone, but secretly, your occasional visits to the crux are what he looks forward to the most in his days, quietly yearning to see the bright smile on your face one more time.

"kazuha?"

his head tilts as he directs his full attention on you, as if it already wasn't in the moments prior. "yes?" his crimson eyes glow with warmth, the warmth you've granted him.

"why do you always... smile so much?" it's not unnerving, no, not in the slightest. the way it sets his face alight is beautiful, if anything. but you've heard of his past, and you're wary that it might all just be a show he's acting out so you won't have to worry over him. that self-sacrificial idiot.

kazuha seems startled by the questions, his eyes growing round before his quietly laughs into his fist, his chuckles like birdsong against the wind. he leans forward, resting his face in his bandaged palm. "love, is it not obvious? it's because of you that i'm able to smile like this."

he's acting so cheeky right now. it makes you want to kiss him, with just how romantic he's making the situation. your face is flushed, you're well aware, and kazuha captures it all in his knowing gaze, smiling still. "kazuha, you have quite the way with words, don't you?" suddenly, something you overheard from the sailors arises amongst other thoughts.

[ "hey, haven't you thought that kazuha doesn't smile often?"

you had scoffed then, a plain lie. they must not see him often.

"ah, you poor, unknowing fools." a proud voice this time, a female one, one riddled with a laugh. you could catch a glimpse of the brown hair. "don't you know that he only smiles when his lover comes around?"

a collective gasp. ]

his eyes are warm. his voice is warm. he is a man of warmth, like the yearning leaves on the wind. kazuha stirs something within you, and you can't help but break into the slightest of smiles.

"love, the truth has a way of captivating an audience."

— scaramouche, who... is not well versed on whatever he's feeling right now. he'll try and hide it all he wants, turning his head away whenever you're not staring in his direction so he can hide the furious crimson that has dusted his cheeks. is he flustered? as if. you're not quite skilled enough to pull such a feat. yet...

"scara?" your finger grazes his cheek as you gaze at him with concern in your eyes. it's almost irritating, how persistent you are, but he'll allow it. he'll allow it, because it's making him feel a rush in his blood, and it makes him warm. "are you okay? your face is red."

shit. it is? he immediately covers his face with his hands, and prepares to flee. look at him, the exalted sixth harbinger of the goddamn fatui, about to run with his tail between his legs like this. his dignity attempts to pull him to his seat, but the thunderous rush in his ears, audible to himself, is something that you should never witness. it's shameful.

your hand latches onto his wrist, and you stare up at him, brows slightly furrowed as your lips formed a pout. "as i thought, you're unwell. c'mon, let's get you to bed, and then i'll-"

"no." his refusal is instant. his own voice rings in his ears. how it even possible to feel this way? you called him your lover, but it was something he had just... agreed to, in the heat of the moment. he clutches the fabric of his clothes so tightly they almost twist in his hold. the empty silence is all he needs to confirm it. no, he could never love someone like you. or anyone at all.

with grudging certainty, he knows. if he were to fall, it'd be you that he'd yearn for. yearn. perhaps... was that the longing he felt whenever he saw that soft gaze of yours, or faced your very presence? the two of you were already lovers, so why couldn't he bring himself to pull you closer into his arms?

"scara? love, what are you..." the use of a nickname catches him off guard. you know exactly what you're doing to him, don't you? despite that, he can't help but fall deeper and deeper.

"say that again. call me love again."

(a/n) tried doing a different style of writing this time? pretty silly if i do say so myself !! sorry for the shorter length existential crisis loves me so mmuch

໒꒱ || ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ (open! send an ask or a comment ♡) : @manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside, @ilyuu, @achlysis, @swivy123

[drykaktusi]

Choso dating head cannons

Warnings: none, short and sweet. We stan Choso in this household.

A/n: first time posting a fic on Tumblr, English isn't my first language btw.

Words: 899

Although it has its ups and downs, dating Choso is a wonderful experience. Choso is a very reserved and stoic guy, he doesn't look like it but as soon as you get mentioned he turns as red as a tomato and completely shuts down inside.

While Choso is aware of human relationships and meaning of love, he never thought it would happen to him. He stresses about it often and thinks something is wrong with him. He'll even go as far as to check his temperature to see if he is sick and will deny his feelings for you, but ultimately the butterflies in his stomach and the way his pale cheeks burn up when he sees you will be too bothersome not to acknowledge.

It will take a while for him to confess, he didn't want to mess up anything and ruin your very awesome friendship. he tries to pick up on the clues you put down, to see if you reprocate his feelings and even though you clearly do his fear of rejection is too great. In the end it took encouragement from his brothers to confess to you.

His confession would be short and sweet, he'll pull up to your door one evening with comically big pink flowers in a banquet (he googled romantic ways to confess to someone and this came up). He didn't want to die from embarrassment so he blurted a quick *I like you do you want to go out* in a monotone voice and hoped for the best. When you said yes, he was over the moon and dancing inside, but he didn't show much On the outside, just smiled, nodded and left.

Like many other dates you two go on later, first date with him will be somewhere quit like a late night stroll together. You two will talk about any subject that comes to mind and because Choso is more of a listener, you'd be the one talking most of the time and you'll occasionally get a nod and a "mhm" form him. He Just loves the way your voice sounds and could listen to you all day without getting tired.

I'd imagine you're his first ever partner, so that means he has little to no experience. So bear with him as he tries to navigate through things couples do. He definitely introduces his brothers to you and if you get along with them, he will be more than happy that his favourite people are hanging out.

The first kiss with him feels like a sweet dream, even if it's a bit awkward. It was your fifth date and a week you two were officially a couple. He took you to a sushi restaurant which is one of his favourite foods. After you two were done, you two decided to go to an abandoned building for some reason, and as you talked a sudden feeling of courage took over him. He held your face with his cold hands and planted a short kiss on your lips.

Somehow, after he pulled back, he was the one who was more embarrassed, but quickly got over it when you returned the kiss a little more hungry which got him weak in the knees.

His love language is a physical touch, both giving and receiving. He reassures and comforts you with his touch, but isn't too clingy to not make you uncomfortable. He likes to randomly give you hugs just because he wanted to, you're simply irresistible to him and every time he sees you he has an urge to touch you with his body. He also loves it when you are being touchy. Loves it when you two share kisses on the lips or on the cheeks.

This man loves cuddling, whether it'll be during the day or when you two are falling asleep on a shared bed. he didn't know he enjoyed snuggling and cuddling this much until he met you. It Doesn't matter if you are shorter or taller than him, during cuddling he'll want to be the big spoon. He doesn't mind if you aren't as touchy as him and like to keep a little bit of distance while asleep, he'll just simply hold your hand. You Being around him is enough.

It also doesn't matter if you're heavier than him, he can and will pick you up. He likes to carry you around in your house. He also walks around topless🙂. His morning voice is deeper and a bit more hoarse.

He loves when you touch his hair in any sort of way, play with his hair and he'll melt to a puddle On the spot. You can play a game where you pretend to be a stylist and do his hair in many unique ways, in a ponytail, a braid, he doesn't care.

He'll also do your makeup and hair if you ask. If your hair is on the thick side and rather hard to deal with, he'll do a lot of research and try his best to help you with it.

He doesn't really like to go out, preferring to stay indoors with you. But if you do go out, he'll be protective towards you as he is to his brothers. He'll become a giant watchdog. Anyone who tries to bother you quickly gets scared when they see him looming behind you with a stoic face.

Overall 10/10 without an unbiased opinion 🙂

[professional-yapper]

Maybe you could do an Neteyam imagine where another male challenges for you and neteyam almost kills him and then you give him a blowjob in appreciation that he’s finally yours

Challenge

Neteyam x Omaticaya! Reader

Warnings: cheating kind of, neglect (open to interpretation), blood, gore, someone's head gets literally smashed in, blowjob, face fucking, possibly probably dubcon, mean Neteyam

Neteyam is 20/21 and reader is pretty much the same age

SMUT MDNI PLEASE AND THANK YOU

It was no secret that you were one of the more... desirable members of the Omaticaya. Even warriors twice your age would find their eyes tracking your body as you went about your daily duties, blissfully oblivious to their stares.

But it was also no secret that you preferred, out of all the available young men who would die to spend a night between your thighs, Neteyam. Son of the olo'eyktan, and future olo'eyktan himself.

Whispers went around that his future position was why you liked him so much.

The common response to that was that, even if it was true, why shouldn't you want to better your status in the tribe? After all, everyone knew Neteyam only wanted you for your looks and sexual gifts.

Both equally nasty rumours. You paid them no mind, most days. Neither did Neteyam.

You were, for the most part, a happy couple, spending as much time together as you could, often with him lounging between those heavenly thighs, golden eyes half-lidded like a sleepy thanator, and you running your hands through his beautiful braids, delighting in the rasp of the beads against your fingers.

He was the love of your life. You were sure of that. You just... hadn't yet gained the courage to voice these intense feelings that had been blooming as of late.

Of course, people knew he was courting you.How could they not, when Neteyam dedicated every hunt to you, and in return his groans of pleasure could be heard from the depths of the forest? (Though those who claimed to have heard this were largely frowned upon, for even when a union is disliked, there are some lines that were not to be crossed.)

But that didn't mean you two were 'locked in', to use a ridiculous phrase of Lo'ak's.

You just wished you were.

Every day that went by without Neteyam asking you to be his mate, or even hinting at something more than sweet courtship, you grew more frustrated.

Of course, you could ask outright. Neteyam, why haven't you asked me to be your mate? I'd say yes, you know I would.

But then there was the niggling, incessant thought that often kept you awake at night. That Neteyam really was only with you for your body.

The months of nothing beyond courtship only cemented that fear, and so naturally you withdrew, fearing for yourself and your dignity.

You faked sickness the morning of dates, ran and hid when Neteyam returned from a hunt, pretending you couldn't hear him looking for you and waiting for him to give up before you went out, pretending you'd been working, no longer spending nights with him...

And the other things, things that you were deeply ashamed of.

Because even when you felt you knew in your heart that Neteyam only intended to use you, you hated to hurt him.

And you knew what you were doing would hurt him.

It started small. Neteyam had let another day pass without even hinting at wanting to bond with you, and so, fuming and hurt, you stormed off and found another young warrior, and flirted with him until the sting of what felt like rejection was a bitter memory.

Then word got out that you were giving Neteyam the cold shoulder. Young warriors heard this and vied for your attention, hopes renewed, visions of your body naked and writhing no doubt dancing through their heads.

You only hoped Neteyam hadn't heard the rumours. It was unlikely he had. As olo'eyktan's son, people were hesitant to gossip in his presence, knowing one wrong word and the olo'eyktan would hear all.

Which wasn't true. You knew that. Neteyam never told his father anything. But you hoped he didn't hear anyway. Because it would hurt him even more.

The warriors fought for your attention, and you began to respond, guilty and filthy though you felt every time you let one near, let them smile and caress and hold, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear and inching ever closer, a hand creeping up your thigh, flashing eyes creasing in a smile, a dirty smile, with only one thought behind those eyes. Dirty eyes, dirty smiles, dirty hands. All of them.

But you let it happen, because you'd been dumb enough and angry enough to let it happen once, and once their hands were on you, they never left.

You still felt them when you were with Neteyam. His arms held no sanctuary for you anymore.

It was a normal day, as normal as you could hope for.

You were in the groves, stripping fruit from vines with a few others, filling the pouch at your hip slowly, more focused on the slow, lazy hum of the bugs around you, the long grasses brushing against your legs, and the warm wind running along your skin than anything else.

That is, before you felt a hand curl around your arm, turning you to face the owner of the hand. It was the kind of grip that left no room for question, more forceful than it should've been.

You looked up into Tola's face, which bore the same hungry look it did every time he approached you.

His finger came up and curled under your chin, tilting your head up. You tightened your hands into fists at your sides.

"I was thinking of courting you properly," Tola mused, grinning like it was some kind of joke, and your chest tightened, breathing growing shallow.

"Neteyam is already courting me," you said tightly, pulling your chin away. "I have no need for any more suitors."

The shame of cowering behind the protection of Neteyam's name after everything made you sick to your stomach, but you stood firm, determined not to let Tola see you falter.

"Aw, come on," Tola rolled his eyes, taking ahold of your chin once more, grip painful, his other hand coming up to lean against the tree trunk behind you. "When was the last time you even spoke to him? You're bored of him. I can tell."

"My relationship with Neteyam is no concern of yours," you replied primly.

"Let me court you," he insisted.

"And why would they do that?" a low, familiar voice said from behind Tola, and the tightness in your chest loosened briefly with relief, before the shame and guilt intensified.

Tola turned, expression of lust cracking cleanly, revealing what you hoped was fear as he released you, turning to face Neteyam.

Neteyam stood tall, hands hanging loosely at his sides, but his chin was angled downwards in that way he had when angered, eyes dark as he looked between you and Tola.

"Neteyam-" you managed, voice wobbling a little as you stepped around Tola and towards your lover- though you suppose you couldn't call him that anymore, in lieu of recent events.

Neteyam held up a hand, making you stop in your tracks, but he didn't say anything to you. Like you weren't even there.

"If you seriously intend to court them, you'll have to kill me first. I'd die before letting you touch them," Neteyam hissed, the first bits of emotion beginning to spark in his voice.

Tola grinned at that, raising his eyebrows at you in a playful, we-have-a-secret manner.

You cringed and looked down, not daring to meet Neteyam's eyes and see the betrayal there.

Then you heard what was undoubtedly fist colliding with face, and looked up in shock to see Neteyam withdrawing, shaking his hand out, and Tola reeling back, blood spraying in a sickeningly graceful arc from his nose.

The sound was punctuated by cries from the other Na'vi in the groves, a few scattering to alert the rest of the tribe that, once again, you had found yourself in a whole shitload of trouble.

Tola and Neteyam stared at each other for a moment, both already panting, furious, like young male thanators. Then they both looked at you, and you froze, taking a step back, more than ready to flee given the chance.

Tola's eyes roamed over your body, and he seemed to be doing some mental calculations, longing once again flickering in his expression.

Neteyam, on the other hand, kept his blazing eyes on your face, his own face twisted with rage and hurt. You couldn't hold his gaze, dropping your eyes to his bloody knuckles, rapidly purpling.

"Neteyam-" you tried again, but Tola cut you off.

"You say I gotta kill you to get them," he panted, pulling his knife from his sheath.

Neteyam's ears flicked back, but he drew his own knife and readied it, beckoning Tola forward. "You can try."

The fight was brutal. Bloody. Both of them rolling around on the floor, trying to pin one another, to shear skin from bone. Neteyam drew first blood, and one wound led to another.

Tola was bigger, but he was no match for Neteyam. No one was.

And all you could do was watch, sick to your stomach and hating every second of it, hands covering your mouth, Na'vi crowding around you with gleeful, morbid interest in the death-match at hand.

You only hoped Neteyam would show some kind of mercy, but the red light flashing in his golden eyes as he tried to cut Tola's throat told you there was no chance in hell of that happening.

Screams of terrified delight rippled through the crowd as Neteyam finally got the upper hand, sitting on Tola's back, smashing the other man's head into the ground.

But you couldn't deny the heat beginning to unfurl in your belly at the sight of Neteyam covered in blood, sweating and breathing hard, eyes like burning embers as he smashed Tola's head on the ground one final time.

Neteyam stopped, blinking at the blood on his hands, then looked around at the crowd like he was seeing them for the first time, expression softening, looking vaguely lost and confused.

Until his eyes found you. He rose unsteadily, jaw setting in a hard line, mouth thinning as he stepped off Tola and towards you, grabbing your arm and dragging you through the crowd deeper into the forest.

You couldn't summon the words to protest, blindly following him, too scared of his bloodlust to even think about pulling free.

Once he deemed you had gone far enough, he turned, pressing his bloody forearm against you chest and backing you up against a tree so roughly the air was forced from your lungs.

"You're a fucking slut," Neteyam hissed, eyes glowering down at you in the cool dimness of the forest, his equally blood-slick thick thigh nudging between yours. "You know that?"

Tears began to well. Shame, humiliation, guilt... Desire. "Teyam," you croaked, but he brought his knee up so quickly it cut you off as you whined at the contact.

"A fucking slut," he repeated harshly. "Maybe I should've just let Tola have you. God knows how many times he has already, hmm?" he hissed, nose pressing into your cheek, fangs running along your jaw. "Whore," he breathed, moving his thigh up even more so your feet were barely touching the ground. "Making me look bad in front of everyone.

"You think I didn't notice, baby? When you started drifting away, acting like you didn't know me? What, was I not good enough for you all of a sudden?"

"No, Teyam, no-" you whimpered, tears bubbling in the corners of your eyes and threatening to spill. The heady mixture of fear and desire shook you badly, but you couldn't help loving the high of it all, grinding down on his thigh instinctively.

He tutted at you, using his free hand to wipe your tears away, no doubt leaving a streak of Tola's blood on your cheek. "You made me look bad, baby. Had everyone thinking I couldn't control my fucking lover. That's what I am, right, baby? Still your lover, even though you're fucking other guys?

"You know, if you weren't satisfied with me, honey, you should've said. I'm more than happy to fuck you till you remember who really loves you. I'll do it right now. Watch me," he cooed, stepping back, planting a hand on the back of your neck and forcing you to your knees.

He groaned at the sight of you, already teary and flushed, on your knees for him, cock hardening beneath his loincloth, mere inches from your face. "Missed seeing you like this, baby. Did you let other guys fuck your pretty mouth?" he said, voice deceptively sweet as he shed his loincloth, hooking a thumb into your mouth and prying it open. "Let them see you all blissed out? I bet Tola did, huh?"

You choked back a sob around the intruding digit, so overwhelmed you didn't know whether to moan or cry.

Neteyam made a soft, sympathetic noise, sliding his cockhead against your lips until they were shining with precum. "Aw, sweet thing. You've been so mixed up lately, huh? Need me to make it all better?"

His tone was mocking, words filthy, and your hole twitched plaintively, practically begging to be filled even as Neteyam humiliated you.

Neteyam pressed forward, cock sliding between your lips and nestling deep in your throat as you forced down your gag reflex and blinked back painful tears, breathing through your nose and gripping his thighs.

"That's it," he moaned, taking ahold of your braids and guiding your head up and down, the wet noises only making you clench your thighs together. "That's it, that's my good baby. Missed this, honey. Missed you," he added in a brief moment of genuine affection, before beginning to fuck your face in earnest.

So that's not really what was asked for in case y'all didn't notice 😭 it ran away from me so fast but I enjoyed writing this thoroughly

Let me know what y'all think tho cus this took me like hours

[ruporas]

Would love to hear more about that angel wolfwood picture if you have thoughts!!

ANGEL WOLFWOOD… yes, i have Some thoughts but it's nothing crazy… POST TRIMAX SPOILERS BELOW

it's actually a standard revival / wolfwood returns as a plant au, caused accidentally by the large burst of power vash used to protect the orphanage. he showed signs of life but not waking after his 'revival', so when vash got back to the ship, the best option to keep him stable + safe was to put him in a cold sleep capsule. eventually he'd wake up + sees vash again + gets the worst vague explanation ever + bonks vash upside on the head.

although the circumstances is strange, vash is happy that wolfwood was able to recover(?) and is Alive. a human-plant hybrid situation is new and worries vash on how it may affect wolfwood long term, but otherwise, he's glad to have him back.

i'd like to imagine wolfwood would be disturbed by his revival, knowing it's vash's life that kept him alive + having came back as something different + tackling the "what now" of his future and learning how to live normally again. he'd be frustrated and upset for the most part, but once he eats, sunbathe a little, walk on the outskirts of the ship with vash, and think over the things he's no longer obligated to, he'd instantly crumble and cry from relief.

and now they get to live the rest of their lives out together!! that's my au Anyway.

some other tid bits; i'm sure there's more complicated / fun ways to make a human-plant hybrid, but for my simple brain, wolfwood just has feathers + no verbal communication, communicates like how plants do + improved regen like how vash used to. every time the feathers are sprouting too far from his body/used actively, he's dying, so part of living is him figuring out how to control them better.

TO ME, post trimax vash is basically a normal ass human who can maybe sprout a feather or 2 if he wants to die. as a result, he can't necessarily 'show' wolfwood, but he does his best to explain how it used to be for him. wolfwood was always observational, so there are some things he remembers vash doing that aids him in his predicament now. below is case a) of vash trying to resonate with wolfwood, forgetting that uses power.

ummm i think that's about all i have to say. honestly, i'm not usually one for a revival au, but i read dunmeshi recently and was like ohhhh.. ohh……. and it gripped me, a life full of trouble but not at the cost of the world ending nor family… they could be happy… but only in this au ofc

[hijackalx]

A LITTLE DEATH +18

SUMMARY: You follow Astarion into the woods with plans to kill him, though it doesn’t play out exactly how you hoped.

WORD COUNT: 3394

UNDER THE CUT: F!reader, hatesex, vaginal fingering, finger sucking, vaginal sex, astarion tends to be more dom, d/s, biting, some sadism and masochism, overstimulation, degradation, good aligned reader

You get along with most of your traveling party. Even amongst your differences, you can find it in yourselves to make peace while chasing your common goal.

You say 'most' because there's one that you just can't bring yourself to like— the damned vampire elf. He's insufferable; always questioning your leadership and ideals, not to mention his piss-poor attitude about everything.

On top of that, some of the things that come out of his mouth are downright awful. "Just let them die," he said, bearing an irritated and inconvenienced reaction to the wellbeing of the entire grove. "We're not here to babysit those in need of culling."

You haven't spoken to him since. To be honest, you've spent the time pondering if you really need someone like that around. Who's to say he won't someday see you and the others as those "in need of culling"?

As the leader of the party, you have to make the right decisions— and you think in this situation, the right decision is to get rid of him.

It's not like you've decided this in the spur of the moment, either. This tension has been building between you two since you met, and a perpetually winding coil is bound to snap and cut someone eventually.

That someone won't be you.

It's early. The night has only just begun to lift, welcoming a gentle blue in its place. You lay in your bed, staring at the tapered ceiling with your hands folded over your stomach.

You listen for the familiar rustle of fabric just outside your tent. Your body springs up as if on cue, peeking your head out to investigate silently. There he is, you watch as the elf leaves his own tent at the same time he always does.

He follows his usual path off into the woods, and this time, you'll follow him.

Before you leave, your adrenaline-ridden hand fumbles around your bedroll, searching. Finally, it graces the sensation of a wooden object, one that you conceal in your waistband beneath your shirt.

You stumble after his footfalls, careful not to lose sight of him in the shadows.

He wanders into a small clearing of trees before stopping. You halt, kneeling in the brush. Your heart pounds heavily in your chest, a slight tremor to your limbs. You're not sure what has overcome you— fear? excitement?

It doesn't matter what you feel. You just need to get this over with.

You watch him inquisitively as he begins reaching for the hem of his shirt. He pulls the material up and over his head, tossing it to the side.

You swallow deeply, fighting the urge to avert your eyes. When you learned of his early morning walks, you didn't think it involved disrobing.

He sits in front of a ledge overlooking the valley, folding his legs together and gazing at the sky expectantly. Now would be the perfect time to reveal yourself, but you're frozen in place from observing the strange ritual before you.

It isn't until the first ray of light peeks over the horizon that you realize what madness he's up to. In all its golden glory, the sun bathes his body with a matching hue. He breathes in, letting its warmth encase his cold, dead figure.

His head turns slightly, his profile partially blocked by his shoulder. Though, you can see that his eyes fall closed while he basks.

Now...! You inhale sharply, your entire body tensing with anticipation.

"If you'd like to join me so badly, I'd prefer that you ask first."

Your heart stutters at the sound of his voice, loud and clear as if to catch the attention of another. Surely, it's not you he's talking to?

He lets out a small laugh. "Well, I won't say yes. But I'd appreciate the gesture much more than I do your... creeping." His brow lowers in a manner of disgust. Moments later, his piercing red iris is staring right back at you.

Instead of flinching, you stand impossibly still like a frightened rabbit.

"Honestly, did you think you were being clever? I could hear your every move from the minute you left your tent," there's a lilt of amusement to his tone as if your failure is humorous to him. It makes your blood boil just enough to snap you out of your daze.

Clearing your throat, you step out from behind your cover. "I apologize for my inefficiency in lurking in the shadows. It's not something we honest people often have to do."

You see the immediate frown on his face. He shoots you a glance like a dagger before quickly regaining composure. "Ever the self-deprecating one, aren't we?" he exhales.

Your shoes grow wet with morning dew as they wade through the grass. You stop directly behind him, glaring down at the back of his head.

So cocky while being so close to death. You hope you'll be half as ignorant when your time comes.

Under your newfound proximity, he seems to fall uncharacteristically quiet— as do the birds and frogs.

Though barely a hum, his voice cuts through the silence disruptively, "... Y'know," he starts slowly, "I'm not the most intuitive type, but I'm starting to feel like you're not here because you missed my company."

"Maybe you should trust your gut."

His next words seem to catch in his throat, immediately being replaced with a sigh.

Unexpectedly, he stands and faces you without caution, as if you'd hesitate to drive your stake through him at any given moment.

And, to your dismay, hesitate is exactly what you do. Your hand lingers over where you keep the stake behind your back, though never touching it.

His body blocks the day's freshly bloomed rays, leaving you in the darkness of his silhouette. You feel a twinge of intimidation, yet you do not falter. You hold his stare and refuse to give up ground.

A smirk fights its way onto his lips, carving into his previously stark expression. "Too pure-hearted to carry out the assassination attempt while you still had the upper hand?"

Your eyes flit down briefly to catch his fingers twitching at his sides. You don't know what he's thinking, but you'll assume it's a far cry from your best interests.

"This isn't something that I want to do—"

With that, something in him seems to snap— you spot the exact moment it happens as his irises are encased in a sea of white. He throws his arms in the air exasperatedly, sharply interrupting your sentence with, "Yes, it is!"

You fail to conceal the dip to your brow, startled by the suddenness of his response. You suppose his reaction is befitting of an altercation only one of you will walk away from.

Still, you pictured someone like him accepting death with a bit more grace.

"You have wanted this from the very moment we met!" his tone wavers slightly, a weary strain intertwining his words. "So what you're not going to do is sit here and tell me how righteous you are before killing me!"

Just when you think he's going to make you fight for it, he seems to collect himself back into his usual poise. "… You're going to tell me how badly you want to kill me first." His nostrils flare as he peers up at you through his dark lashes. "You will give me that much."

A heavy atmosphere lingers in the narrow space between you while you watch his face jerk with resentment. You're not sure why, but the expression makes you feel... strange.

"Say it."

Your lips move before you can create any sound, taken aback by the oddity of his command. "I... want to kill you," you say with a sense of uncertainty, hardly at a decipherable volume.

"Like you mean it.”

It’s at this moment that you realize he behaves no differently in the face of death than he does in an everyday confrontation, and you’re reminded of why you're here in the first place— of all the stress he's given you since day one, all the nose-to-nose arguing and fighting— you can kill him under the guise of protecting others from harm, but the self-centered benefits you’ll reap are almost too obvious.

"I want to fucking kill you," you spit.

So, why don't you? Why do you still stand here, waiting? Why does the stake you stayed up carving for hours, perfectly sleek and pointed, remain unconcerned?

He swallows deeply, and it seems he's wondering the same thing.

You catch the way he watches your mouth part, your exhales thick with adrenaline. Then, his gaze returns to yours, and it seems all the more obvious how his head has just barely tilted.

Something other than hatred flashes in the shadows of his furrowed brow, the separate emotions sitting side by side as if becoming one.

He grabs your arm, yanking you closer. In a single, swift motion, his other hand tangles into the hair at the back of your head, bringing your lips to his.

The sensitive skin crashes together in a burst of impulsiveness. Your hands come up to grab his face while your mouths connect painfully. It's sloppy, and you don't quite sync up. You're both trying to dominate the other, and it feels more like a battle than a kiss.

He uses his teeth to his advantage, biting your bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. You lose some nerve from the metallic taste, yet it only fuels his aggression further. The red paints both of your lips, leaving a blushing stain. He harshly runs his tongue over the wound, making you wince as he agitates the sore spot.

In response, you shove him away with all your strength, anger prevalent in the action. He stumbles back, watching you intensely as he uses his forearm to wipe his mouth.

You throw off your shirt, letting the humid air embrace your breasts and torso. As you work quickly to remove your pants as well, you drop your stake in the grass, which he studies for a moment before glancing back at you.

He makes you feel like an object as his eyes graze over your skin, hungry. You approach him once more, impatiently searching for his mouth.

While he distractedly runs his palms over your body, relishing the soft, warm curves, you opt to push him into the boulder behind him. For a split second, he breaks away from the kiss and peers over his shoulder, making note of your plan.

As he puts his hands on your waist to lift you, you reluctantly allow him to place you atop the rock instead. Out of frustration, your fist hits his bare chest, to which he inattentively steadies by your wrist.

He begins kissing down your neck, and you grab at his hair while he does. You end up pulling too hard, and he bites down in retaliation. You don't bleed, but it'll leave a mark.

"Bastard," you hiss.

His hands run up and down your thighs before he traces a finger over your clothed pussy. You buck your hips as the fabric brushes against your clit, and he wastes no time in dipping beneath the garment to play with the needy bud.

He rests his weight on his opposite hand, his nose lingering closely to your neck. The erratic breaths raise goosebumps on your skin.

You lean back on your palms, giving him better access to your body. He coats his digit in your essence, toying with your clit. You twitch as you become more sensitive, which he exploits with unrelenting momentum.

He finally stops to bring his finger lower, teasing your spasming entrance. One of your hands tugs at the hairs by the base of his neck. "Astarion," you warn through gritted teeth. You hear him laugh by your ear before he shoves his finger inside you roughly.

You stifle a gasp as it fills you, the curl it harbors brushing your G-spot with every thrust. You let out small moans until you feel a deeper craving. "More," you huff, "I need more."

"Greedy whore,” he scoffs. "Just as I thought."

He leaves a quick kiss on your lips as he enters a second finger. You open your legs further to accommodate, letting out a sigh of relief as you feel your walls stretch around him.

Your slick produces squelching sounds as he thrusts in and out of you. A small groan escapes his lips, and he comments under his breath, "Gods, you're fucking tight."

You laugh pridefully, considering how many other partners he's had to compare you to. "That means a lot, coming from you."

He bears his teeth briefly in a snarl.

You glance down, noticing the hard-on in his pants. You slide your foot up his thigh mischievously, and he holds his breath as it approaches the tent in the fabric.

His fingers stutter as you push the ball of your foot against his cock, providing pressure that he needs worse than he previously thought.

His teeth rake in his bottom lip as he makes a poor attempt at containing himself. "Shit-eating little nymph, aren't you?" He addresses you with irritation prominent on his features. "Alright, then."

He pulls his fingers from you without warning, revealing the slippery substance you've left on them. With his other hand, he harshly grabs you by your jaw. "Open," he orders.

You comply, and he presses his soiled fingers to your tongue.

"Clean them."

Your mouth closes around the digits, running your tongue over and between the long, slender shapes. You taste yourself, swallowing what you gather while holding his gaze.

His eyes droop half-lidded, thick with lust. The breaths leaving his lips become heavier by the second.

The way he stares down at you— so animalistic, so needy— it makes you feel smug, but it also has you pressing your thighs together to satiate the throbbing desire in your cunt.

He pulls his fingers from your mouth, breaking a line of drool as they leave your lips.

His fingertips remain dug into your cheeks as your hearts pound in unison. It seems both of you are too proud to admit how badly you want what comes next.

You observe him; how his Adam's apple bobs in his throat, how his chest supports a thin sheen of sweat. There's a slight tremble to his figure, teeming with want that's begging to be set loose. You can't take it anymore— you'll lose this time if you have to.

"Please," your voice has never been spoken to him so gentle and pleading, "fuck me."

As if he'd been waiting to hear those words, he connects your mouths again passionately. This time, he leans you back on the cold material of the stone, the dew leaving icy pecks on your skin.

He pulls your underwear from your body, slinging them aside. Peering down, he admires how your folds and inner thighs glisten in the morning light. "You're perfect," he mutters.

As he undoes his pants, you stare between the window of your thighs at his cock being freed from his trousers. "... Yeah," you borderline whine.

Angling himself with your entrance, he tests you by pushing the tip inside. Your velvety walls immediately tighten around him, causing a groan to slip through his teeth.

He leans over you and entwines your hands with his. You wrap your legs around his waist, scooting your hips to the edge of the rock's surface, anxious for him to stretch you out.

He gets the message, slowly going deeper and deeper with each thrust. Your body envelops him so desperately, and you nearly scoff at how you cling to your enemy like your savior.

Finally, he bottoms out with a choked moan, savoring the feeling of your needy pussy before fucking you at a steady pace.

He repeatedly slams into you, his tempo getting rougher as you adjust. You writhe as he hits all the right spots, waves of electricity sparking through your veins and weakening your limbs.

One of his hands slips down to lift your thigh, resting it over his shoulder. It allows him to reach further, and you arch your back as he brushes against your cervix.

You two create a symphony of pleasure, your voices complimenting each other.

His eyes follow yours, and you almost find yourself getting lost in the bloody hue. You turn your head to look away, disliking the feeling erupting in your stomach.

He nuzzles your neck as you unknowingly expose it. You feel his open mouth graze the sensitive skin, subtly running it up and down. He gets strangely quiet, his hips occasionally stuttering. Glancing over at him questioningly, you see his eyes screw shut before his bared fangs pierce your flesh.

It all happens in a matter of seconds. You yelp at the sharp, burning sensation. Your hand pulls at his hair and claws at his shoulders, but he only groans in response.

He continues fucking you while lapping up the blood spilling from your neck. The mix of pleasure and pain confuses you, but you still feel that knot growing tighter in your core.

You begin to experience some lightheadedness, but instead of hindering your enjoyment, it enhances it; it numbs your brain, and you can't think about anything other than this— other than him spreading you open and fucking you as if you're his, as if you've always been.

Your abdomen tenses and you feel your climax approaching quickly. You leave reddened grooves in his back while holding him in place with your heel. An array of noises spills from you as you arch your body into his.

"I hate you— fuck, I hate you," your voice cries out, partially slurred.

He finally pulls away with a sharp exhale, your blood drenching his chin. "I know," he responds breathlessly, leaving a trail of bloody kisses on your collarbone.

He wraps both arms around you to fuck you harder, drawing out your orgasm. Your body jolts with overstimulation, experiencing a sensation in your cunt that you can only describe as an ache. You push against him, but he holds you so tightly that it has no effect.

You notice how he’s starting to come apart; his rhythm becomes erratic, and his moans progress into a desperate whimper. All of his muscles are so taut and his face is endearingly tense— such a contrast to his typical haughty disposition. You conclude that you wouldn't mind seeing him like this more often.

You leave sickeningly sweet kisses along his jaw, caressing his face. "I know you want to cum, you stubborn prick," you say as he repeatedly knocks the breath from you. Pressing your mouth to his skin once more, you utter a quiet, "cum for me, then.”

He seems to think for a moment before making a split-second decision to pull out of you, his frustrated growl telling of his inner conflict. Aiming for your slit and thighs, he releases hot, thick ropes of cum that slowly drip towards your ass.

He stares between your legs like he's created a masterpiece; a concoction of fluids that you brought to fruition together. His thumb smears some of his seed around your folds, a worn grin making its way onto his face as his eyes flicker up at you.

"Really?" you stare back, straight-faced. "That's going to be such a pain to clean up." You know that's the exact reason he did it— why would he ever let anything be easy for you?

He laughs, ridiculous and pompous as ever. "Isn't it?" His hand runs through his unruly hair, lifting rogue strands from the sweat of his forehead. "Take my word for it when I say it's a very, very good look for you."

As you watch him fix himself up to be presentable, a sudden harrowing feeling overcomes you. It seems the euphoria from your little romp was more short-lived than you thought it'd be, and your dynamic was not so easily escaped.

"Flattery won't save your life," you state bluntly, lacking any evidence of the intimacy you two just shared.

"It won't." He walks over to your pile of clothing after tucking his shirt back in. With a still, cold expression, he drops the garments on your naked body to cover it. "But it'll make you miss me."

[nvrsaidiwasinurcloset]

I love your work so much!!!

This is a request for gf!ethan x fem reader. I was thinking of ethan seeing a guy about to push himself onto the reader (who he’d been crushing over), so he makes an impulsive decision and stabs the guy to get him off. At first he’s terrified because he thinks she’ll be scared of him and that he’d just blown his cover, but it actually just makes the reader really, for lack of a better word, horny that he saved her. (She had also been crushing on him for quite some time.) They flee the scene and she takes him back to her dorm. Leads to smut (lots of it please!) with maybe sub or even switch!ethan.

If the idea of writing attempted s.a. makes you uncomfortable, you’re welcome to change it to something like a mugging.

Tysm :D

Hi! ty for your request, I hope you like it! :)

I'd Do Anything - GF!Ethan Landry x Fem!Reader

This contains SMUT - Minors DNI

*There are slight mentions of a suggested assault at the beginning.. If that's triggering to you, please skip this🩷*

Summary: Ethan has to reveal himself as Ghostface after saving you, but all that's on your mind is fucking him.

A/N: I hope y'all like it:)

You had an eerie feeling as you walked down the dark alley. You couldn’t help but think ‘this is how people die’, but this was the quickest way to get back home after your late class. You heard the sound of a can being kicked behind you, so you turned around to check it out. A hand was placed over your mouth as you were backed against the cold brick wall. The grip of the hand on your mouth was pushing your head back into the wall, as your muffled screams tried to get out.

You tried to fight the man off, but he didn’t stop. His hand grazed your thigh as you kicked at him.

“Get the fuck off of her!” you heard a loud voice yell.

“Fuck off, you little prick,” the man yelled, his breath smelling heavy with alcohol.

You heard this loud sloshy sound as blood started to drip out of his mouth. His grip relaxed, as he turned around. You saw the knife in his back and noticed the Ghostface mask. You felt like you should’ve been scared, but you weren’t after you realized whose voice was yelling a couple seconds prior.

“Ethan?” you asked, as the masked person stepped closer.

“Please don’t be scared,” he begged, inches from you. “Are you okay?” he asked, taking the mask off and looking you over. His forehead was sweaty, some of his curls sticking to it.

“I am now,” you said, as the guy finally fell to the ground with one last grunt. “You saved me.”

“Yeah, now I kind of need you to save me,” he said, grabbing the knife out of the guy’s back.

You knew you should’ve been scared. You knew you should’ve called the police. But how could you do that when he just saved you from whatever horrible plan that creep in the alley had for you?

“Of course, my dorm is really close,” you said, leading the way.

He slipped the robe off, before shoving it in his backpack, along with the mask and knife, before you made it to the end of the alley way.

“Why did you save me?” you asked, a curious tone in your voice. “Haven’t you been doing the opposite to people?”

“I don’t know how anyone could ever hurt you. You’re perfect,” he said, as you walked across the grassy area in front of your dorm, “I still can’t believe you aren’t scared.”

“Scared? No. Turned on? Yes.” You said, his eyes going wide as they connected with yours.

He lowly groaned out, his hard cock in his pants rubbing against his jeans with every step he took.

“Are you turned on too, baby?” you asked, the words leaving your mouth sounding almost innocent. Almost.

“If you keep talking, I’m going to fuck you right here in the open so everyone can see,” he growled, grabbing your hand and pulling you towards the door of the brick building.

Your core was throbbing as you made it inside, running towards the elevator. The sexual tension was building by the second, so once the elevator finally opened and you were inside, his lips were on yours.

Once you made it to your floor, you grabbed his hand, pulling him out of the elevator. He had you pressed up against the wall outside of your room, his lips still connected to yours as you dug through your purse for your keys. You broke the kiss for a few seconds to unlock the door, praying that your RA wouldn’t catch you trying to sneak a boy into your dorm this late at night.

When you were both inside, Ethan looked around the room, noticing the two beds.

“When will your roommate be back?” he asked, scared to escalate things further if the two of you were just going to get interrupted.

“She’s across the country with her family. Somebody has been out here killing people,” you smirked, “A lot of people on my floor aren’t here. I can’t believe a pretty boy like you caused all of this.”

You stepped closer to him as your hand gently brushed against his cheek.

“Why are you still here?” he asked, his eyes fluttering as your thumb traced across his bottom lip.

“Because you’re still here,” you said, your hand trailing down his chest and over his stomach. His breath hitched in his throat as your hand started to rub him through his jeans.

He didn’t want to waste any more time as he lifted your shirt over your head, your bare breasts exposed to him.

“Here I was thinking you were so sweet and innocent, but you just had that thin t-shirt covering you. What if someone would’ve noticed?” he said, leaning closer to kiss your neck as you continued to rub him. “You would’ve had me out here killing anyone who was checking out your hard nipples through your shirt.”

“Maybe I didn’t wear a bra for you,” you giggled, his curls tickling you.

“For me, huh?” he said against you, reaching his hand to your chest to graze his fingers over your hard nipples.

“Mhm, I’ve been trying to get your attention for months,” you said, as you slowly dropped to your knees in front of him.

“You’ve always had my attention,” he said, his eyes glazed over as he watched you unbutton his jeans and slide the zipper down.

You pulled his hard cock from the confines of his boxers, your eyes connecting with his as you stroked him.

“God you’re so beautiful,” he said, as his hand went to your hair, guiding your mouth closer to his erection.

“You want me to suck your cock, baby?” you asked, looking at him through your lashes.

“Are you going to do a good job?” he asked. You nodded your head as you bit your bottom lip.

You leaned forward, placing gentle licks to the head, licking off the precum that started to drip out. You opened your mouth as you started to take him inch by inch, the gagging sensation around him making his hand grip your hair tighter.

You took it slow at first, loving the gasps that were leaving his mouth. You were drooling down his cock as your hand started to stroke what you couldn’t fit in your mouth. His hips started to move against you, trying to fit the rest of his length inside.

“Can I fuck your face, baby?” he asked, his pleading eyes boring into yours.

You nodded your response as he started off slow, not wanting to hurt you. He started to speed up as he watched his cock slip past your lips, loving how well you were taking him. His eyes stayed on your face, just to make sure you were okay as he gave you the last inch. Tears were flowing down your cheeks as you gagged around him, the sight almost making him cum on the spot. You started to moan around him, loving the feeling of the fullness in your mouth. You felt your panties getting more soaked by the second, as his hips started to stutter.

“Can I cum on your tits?” he asked. You nodded furiously at his words before he pulled out, releasing all over your chest. “You’re fucking perfect.”

The grip on your hair relaxed as you started to stand up.

“Did I do a good job?” you asked, referencing his question from earlier.

“Baby, you did an amazing job,” he said, as you went to grab a towel to wipe his release off your chest. “Can I return the favor?”

“Please,” you whispered, as his hands started to undo the button on your jeans. He slid the zipper down as he connected his lips with yours. His hand slipped into your jeans, rubbing you through your panties.

“Did you get this wet from chocking on my cock?” he asked, his words causing you to whimper into the kiss. “Did you like it that much, baby?”

You nodded into the kiss as his fingers dipped under the material covering your core. His fingers brushed against your clit, a low moan flew out of your mouth into his as his tongue danced with yours. He continued to rub against you as your whines got louder.

He pulled away to look at you as he slid two of his fingers inside of you. Your legs started to buckle as you stood there, the feeling of his fingers pressing hard against your g-spot starting to send you over the edge. His free hand held you up as he went faster. The wet sounds caused by his finger’s actions had his cock hard again, pressed against his stomach.

“Aww, are you going to cum, baby?” he cooed, as he watched your eyebrows knit together and your mouth fall open.

“Fuck…yes, I’m cumming,” you cried out as that euphoric feeling washed over your body. His grip tightened around you as he continued to finger you through it.

As you came down from your high, a sweet smile played on your lips.

“That felt so good,” you said, as his hands went to your hips to slide down your jeans and panties.

“Oh, I’m not done yet,” he laughed, leading you over to the small couch.

You were expecting him to fuck you, but you had a puzzled look on your face as he crouched on the floor in front of you, pulling your hips to the edge.

“Think you can handle a couple more?” he asked, as he kissed up your thighs.

You watched him get closer and closer to your dripping core, whimpers slipping past your lips as he sucked on the flesh of your inner thighs. He finally placed a kiss to your clit, before he dived in. He was eating you out like he was starving. Your hand tangled into his hair as his tongue moved against you.

“You like eating my pussy?” you asked, as his eyes connected with yours.

“It’s fucking delicious,” he said, before latching his lips around your clit.

“You like it that much?” you moaned out as his tongue slipped into your dripping entrance.

“Mhm,” he hummed against you, as he spread your thighs further apart, pinning them down against the cushions of the couch with his large hands. Your hands went to your breasts, squeezing your nipples as you watched him.

“Fuck, Ethan,” you whimpered, as that feeling started to build again.

His nose bumping against your clit as his tongue slid in and out of you sent you over the edge. He groaned into your pussy as the grip on his hair tightened. You rode out your orgasm, bucking against his face as his tongue licked your clit.

“Holy fuck,” you said, your limp body relaxing into the couch.

As he stood up in front of you, his eyes dark with lust and his mouth coated with your release, you started to crave his cock inside of you.

“Please fuck me,” you whimpered, as he sat down beside you, his pants still settled around his thighs.

“I was going to get you to ride me, but I don’t know if you have the energy for that,” he said, leaning down to place his lips to yours. “But, I do have an idea.”

He stood up, and grabbed your hand, leading you to the side of the couch. He turned you around and bent you over the arm of it. His cock slid over your pussy, collecting your wetness before circling his tip around your clit.

“Stop teasing me,” you whined, as his hand massaged the flesh of your ass.

“You’re so greedy, I’ve already made you cum twice,” he said, before a small smack landed against you. He rubbed over the red skin as he finally slid into you.

“Oh shit,” you moaned out as his hips rocked into yours, the sound of skin slapping quickly filling the room.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he said, one of his hands running up your back as the other held your hip. “And you’re taking my cock so fucking well.”

“Oh fuck, Ethan,” you moaned out, as his hand snaked up you body and around your neck, pulling your body back against his chest.

His hands roamed your chest as he fucked up into you, pinching at your nipples as you whined out.

“That feel good, baby?” he asked, as you mewled out a ‘yes’.

His fingers ran over your collar bone, the gentle feeling contradicting the fast pace as his cock pounded into you. You soon felt that hand wrap around your neck, gently squeezing as his other hand went to your clit.

You felt your orgasm building for the third time, as your walls started to flutter around him. He bent you back over as you went even faster, slamming his cock into that special spot inside of you.

“Oh fuck! Right there,” you whimpered, his pace not faltering as you felt your body start to tingle. ���Oh my god.”

You moaned out as your tired body jolted under him, starting to feel a little overstimulated. It didn’t take much longer for hips to slow.

“I’m gonna cum,” he groaned, pulling out of you, shooting the hot cum all over your ass.

He stood there for a second, his arm supporting himself on the back of the couch as he caught his breath. He smiled as he looked down at your naked, limp body over the arm of the couch.

“Are you okay?” he asked, walking over to grab the same towel off the floor from earlier.

You lazily nodded against the cushion as he wiped the cum off your ass, your hips involuntarily moving at the simple action.

He helped you up and carried you over to your bed, before he crawled in beside you.

“That was amazing,” you said, your eyes sleepily looking up at him.

“Yeah, better than I ever could’ve imagined,” he said, as his fingers started to trace patterns against your back. “You should go to sleep.”

You nodded, snuggling into his chest. You drifted off soon after, the multiple orgasms had your body so relaxed that you couldn’t fight it.

The next morning, you woke up on Ethan’s chest. The soft breaths slipping past your lips made you smile, as you sat up a little. You grabbed your phone to see a new alert from the university, in regard to the creep in the alley’s body being found so close to campus.

“Ethan,” you said, gently shaking him.

His eyes slowly opened as he smiled, noticing that you were still naked.

“They found that guy’s body,” you said, panicking a little.

“I knew they would. It’s okay baby, calm down,” he said, sitting up beside you to place a gentle kiss to your shoulder.

“What if they find out it was you?” you said, turning your head to look at him.

“You’re my alibi,” he chucked, “I’ll just show them your thighs and they’ll know I was with you last night.”

You blushed as you looked over the purple hickeys on your thighs, reminding you of how good he made you feel.

[blingblong55]

New Year's Day -Simon "Ghost" Riley

Photo credit: @ave661

Inspired by this post

---- F!Reader, fluff, established!relationship ----

The morning after, glitter scatters the floor of the cosy flat you and your boyfriend lived in. Your friends all running to the lobby to catch the midday cabs. Simon picks up empty bottles around the home, you clean and sweep the floor, and he looks over at you. A smile on him as he notices one thing. It's been a while since he felt this comfortable, it's been so long since he felt like all was well. 

The conversations, the laughter and how you and he shared an intimate moment in a crowded room. At that table last night, you and him sat down with your group of friends. It was the 31st of December when at the other end of the table, your friends caught the beautiful moment. The lights are warm and dimmed, he and you laugh, leaning on each other as smiles adorn both of your faces. That look in his eyes, one many would die for, the way he holds your hand or how his hand is placed on your back. What a beautiful moment, how amongst so many people, two lovers laugh, staring at each other with nothing but love. That softened gaze, oh how dare the poets die before witnessing this. The background is a window, snow falling as he leans closer. 

His warm hand cupping your soft face, "I love you," he whispers and your eyes soften more. Those teary eyes of yours captured what your friends felt. "She's in love...true love," one mentions. It was true, from past lovers to him, oh how the times have changed. A wine bottle is the one to help those cold eyes of his confess what his heart won't say. 

All that night, Polaroids were taken and in most of those, he was with you. His last beating drum. Simon picks up the scattered polaroids, one by one and as he does so, he finds one. Sweet beautiful moment, there you stood, holding him close as you kissed him, fireworks and people in the background. A smile as those precious lips of yours met his. "Si?" your voice breaking his trance. "Yes, lovie?" It was strange, he was never one for love and here he was, thanking all and anything that had led him to love you. 

"I'm making breakfast, I just want to know if you want me to add extra butter to yours?" Why do you have to know him so well? How can a man like him deserve to be known this way? "Yes, love, I would, thank you," his voice soft. You nod and walk to the kitchen. He looks out the window, the same windowsill in which he smoked a cigarette as you sat on his lap, overlooking the city. "But I can't help, falling in love with you.." you hum and he does too.

As he looks down, he sees your notebook. "What is that, lovie?" he says, wrapping his arms around you from behind. "It's me writing to my future kids, you know just in case they feel like they don't know their mum well and... I want them to know about this day." Simon's heart melted. A future? With you? Damn it, why does he feel this way? why must he flush when you mention it and why does he want it now? A buff dad, walking down the street, his wife by his hand and his baby girl being carried by her dad. What a sight to live. 

--

"Where do you live?" he asks you as a taxi drives you both back to your place. "I rent a place by Ninth Street," you mention casually. 

Now, he watches as the same street is covered in snow, leaves, rain or sun. "Where do you live, mate?" Soap would ask. "I rent a place in Ninth Street with my girl," he mentions casually. 

--

"Why do you even love me!? Why stay with a man like me" He asks between cries and confusion. "Because I love you! I love that I feel safe, that I know if the world out there was ending, I'd come to you and all would be fine." You try and make him reason. "I'm staying, even if you are lost at sea or on land, even if I'm too scared to move or if you keep pushing me away," you cup his face in your hands, caressing his scarred skin. "I want your mornings, evenings and midnights," you whisper, leaving kisses all over his face. 

With every stroke of the pen in which you write to your future kids, you hold onto those memories between two lovers. You hold the good, the bad and all that comes in between. 

Stupid. Stupid. oh fucking stupid argument you just had with him. Over what? An insecurity that was buried within you about his love. He was a good man, honest, loyal, understanding, funny, strong, romantic, soft and protective. The question was, why was he yours? Why do you get to love him and why does he get to love you? "I'm not pretty enough! You are this amazing man, so attractive and I don't fit in!" you cry and he shakes his head. "What is the real reason you feel this way?" Once more, he was soft, why did he do this? Why must he not yell but talk, whisper and listen? "I'm scared one day you'll stop loving me...Simon, you are my one good thing and I'm scared...okay?" Your voice cracking and he chuckles. So cruel and why? "My love, oh aren't you funny-"

"I'm being serious-"

"No, you are being hilarious. You see, to me, you are it. You are the peak of my existence and there will be no other. That's it."

"Simon?"

"Yes, lovie?"

"Please don't leave. I hate the thought of you becoming a stranger. T-the idea that one day if you leave, I'll only know you as a stranger whose laugh I can recognise" 

He shakes his head, wrapping you in a bear hug. "The only time I'll be a stranger is to all those girls who think my girl can't fight. And you, my love, oh you have nothing to worry about, I'm yours...forevermore," he whispers the last part.

He walks over to you, setting the table and smiling. He walks behind you, wrapping his warm arms around you. He inhales your scent, "I love you," he whispers. "Forevermore," you respond and he smiles. A long breakfast of shared gratefulness when now, he finds himself cleaning bottles with you on New Year's Day. 

To others, they know well that in some Spring, Simon Joseph Riley will become a husband and you, you will become a wife. The same beautiful bride who walks to him as he wipes tears away will be the same girl who squeezes his hand three times in the back of a taxi. He knows well that he will, in some future, be the same man who now kisses the back of your neck, and holds your hand as you give birth to his first child. New Year's Day, what a funny thing to tell your kids when they ask when the exact day was when their father proposed. 

A/N: I love him, I love him, I love him, I LOVE HIM

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[luveline]

baby blurb of spending the night at eddie’s house 🤍

this request was lovely! this was more like the run up but yes it was so fun thank you for your request ♡ fem!reader | 1k words

The first time you stay the night at Eddie's house you almost die. You stand at the bottom of the porch with your backpack on one shoulder and you're so nervous you can feel your heart in your mouth. 

"Don't be a loser," you mutter to yourself. You throw your hands out and make fists that don't make you feel any better. "Don't be a loser."

You're almost pleading with yourself. You'd gotten here at least five minutes ago. Every minute longer spent waiting was another minute of loserdom. 

The door opens and you flinch back, and there your boyfriend stands in his pajamas and converse, car keys swinging in his fingers. 

He smiles as soon as he realises it's you. "Hey! Hey, babe, I was coming to look for you. Thought you'd been murdered."

"Jesus, Eddie," you say, ascending the steps. You stop on the last, looking up as he looks down. There's a secret smile shared between you then. A smile he only gives to you and you only give to him. 

"Was the walk particularly arduous?" he asks lightly. 

"Particularly," you say agreeably. 

He kisses your cheek and catches your hand with little care, tugging you back into his house quickly. 

"It's too cold for you to keep walking over," he says as he closes the door. He tosses his keys in the general direction of a keepsakes bowl and drags you past the living room. 

You giggle as you go. "It wasn't that bad." 

"Whatever, I'll come and get you anyways. I think I actually had, like, a conniption. Kept thinking you'd been Freddy Kreuger'd." 

"That guy with the knife hands?" 

"Yeah." 

"He was a total perv." 

"He was also a murderer," Eddie says, pushing you gently towards his unmade bed, the space he'd left behind still warm. "I'd say that was the worse part of his character." 

"That's 'cos you're a guy." 

Eddie sits right at the end of the bed and rubs his hand over his cheek like he's thinking before he collapses into the sheets, his arm thrown towards you. You reach over and take his hand, to his evident delight. His eyes close. 

"What are we gonna do all night?" he asks. 

You laugh, startled, because you've been sort of worried he might want to have sex and you're not sure you're ready, but his words are far from salacious. He sounds genuinely puzzled. 

"Well, what do you want to do?" you ask. 

"I don't know. I've never had a girl stay the night before." 

"Really?" 

"Nope. You're my first," he says, grinning, and there's a put on lightness to it that lets you know he's aware of the double entendre. 

You smile and hide your nerves well. Just because he made a sex joke doesn't mean he wants to actually mess around. You've hardly gone very far. You're only here because he'd called you and said he missed you, which was… an entire other thing. Fondness for him so fierce that you'd barely thought twice when you said, "Well, I could come over."

He's so pretty, you think, looking over the white valley of sheets to his pale face. He's pretty, and he misses me when I'm not around, treats me like dynamite when I am. Maybe I shouldn't be so worried about everything.

You've been in his room before. Now, in the dark, it's different. It feels smaller. 

"I really did miss you," he says, like he can read your mind. You fail to suppress a grin as he pulls your hand to his mouth and leaves it there. His kiss is almost absent-minded, a soft press of his lips and then more silence. 

"I missed you too," you say, because you do, all the time.

You don't know if it's what you're supposed to do but you curl up into a ball next to him. Your smile feels almost sticky with fondness, like you have to peel your lips apart to talk. "I really missed you. I'm glad you missed me enough to call me."

"I'm glad you missed me enough to come. I really am gonna come and get you, next time." 

You sniff. "Sure, s'long as you don't smoke first." 

He grins. "Deal. No high driving." 

"Thank you."

He kisses your knuckles again though with more purpose this time and then drops your hand to his chest, face to the ceiling. 

You look up too. 

"I'm trying to think of what we're gonna eat." 

"What do you have?" 

He chuckles and it's a burst of sound. "Who knows. Fucking… condiments?" 

"Condiments," you repeat, throwing your free hand to your forehead with a dramatic, dreamy sigh. You drop the act quickly, which only furthers his smile. 

"Fuck it. We'll get pizza or something." 

"We could watch A Special from the Spectrum," you suggest. 

Eddie sits up and let's go of your hand, but only so he can lean over you, hands braced either side of your waist. "Now why would you wanna watch that? You don't like Dio." 

"I don't not like Dio. Just don't see why you'd leave Sabbath to-" 

Eddie slaps his hand over your mouth. "Sacrilege." 

"I didn't even say anything," you protest, muffled by his fingers. 

"I could feel it coming." 

You kiss his palm and he gets a warm look about him, his eyelashes pinched in the corners as he squints with a smile. He moves his hand to your cheek, the damp stripe of your kiss sliding over hot skin. 

You're expecting a messy, slow kiss. It's a surprise when he starts, tiny short kisses like seeds over your features, your cheeks and your chin and your bottom lip. They flower, tingling warmth under your skin as he pulls back. 

"You're seriously something. You look…" he dots another kiss close to the corner of your eye. "Really pretty." 

"Eddie," you murmur. 

He pulls back and you grin at each other. 

"Wait until you see me in my pajamas," you joke. 

He gets impossibly brighter. "I can't wait. Seriously." 

[ivorryskies]

i need soulmate AU Dazai x fem!reader

The soulmate can be match up however you'd like, btw if you like angst you can make it ansty but I'd like the ending to be fluff!!

Tysm!

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷summary: when all hope is lost in the midst of the darkness there is light...but what if that life was a person?

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷pairings: Dazai x fem!reader (soulmate au)

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷warnings: angst/fluff, mentions of torture, mentions of killing, abit of gore?

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷Felix's note: omg! I love this i was going to make a soulmate AU this is perfect! I hope you like it! sorry i took too long I was giving midterms <3 heart divider by: @cafekitsune <3 w.c: 1.1k

⋇⊶⊰❣⊱⊷⋇

it was weird.

was it an ability? a disease? who knew. There was this thing going around in Yokohama about soulmates. There were a lot of symptoms and one by one you felt them. All of them.

┊┊.number 1: the closer you are the warmer you get.

you heard people outside the agency through the window talking about how cold they were feeling all the time. Saying its sad that their soulmate has to be so far. But you. You were always warm. While they were wearing sweaters to protect them from hypothermia. You were doing the opposite.

"what wrong angel, need to take your mind off me~" Dazai teased.

"you wish" you sighed and went back to your report. "and for the record I have a name so consider using it."

he chuckled and strolled away. You felt a warm feeling when he talked to you. Nothing out of the ordinary. This was going on since months. Nothing you couldn't brush off.

┊┊.number 2: you feel their pain. physically.

"OUCH!" you hissed.

Immediately Naomi came to help "oh my gosh whats wrong are you okay!?" she held you for support. "is it the soulmate thing?!"

"did he just get punched in the gut or something?!". You couldn't help but feel cold. Dazai was missing for a few days now ever since he went out. The agency could care less. You could care less. But you couldn't help but feel drawn to him. His silly jokes. His teasing. The day felt empty without hi. Maybe you should go looking for him. He's Dazai after all. Probably got all busted up by the mafia. (yes, yes he did)

┊┊.number 3: the first thing they thought about when they saw you appears on your arm and only goes away once you fall inlove with eachother

"look at hers!" the agency were busy pointing to other peoples arms which was clearly readable. You looked with them. Amazed by this. Also distraught by some things that were written. You checked your watch for the time and...wait...was this there?

'pretty eyes'

you turned red and desperately attempted to cover it with you sleeve and sat down trying to calm yourself. Kunnikida noticed and asked "are you okay?"

"yeah, yeah im fine" you hid your face in your hands. until Ranpo screamed.

"her soulmate thinks she has pretty eyes!". Ofcourse you couldn't hide it. Everyone gasped and some laughed. They ran to you to see the imprint up close. Dazai stood in the back looking at a mark he got not too long ago 'flirt'. He had already figured it out. He figured it out ever since he felt warm around you.

He loved you. But did you love him? Was he your soulmate? This thing tells you your soulmate but never guarantees them being your soulmate? He didn't deserve a soulmate. After all hes done. He deserved to die alone. You had another soulmate. And he would be left alone. Just like he thought. He sighed turned around and left.

┊┊.number 4: your dreams are their memories.

you woke up with a tear stained face. Breathing heavy. A nightmare. A very bad one. You were in the mafia? But you have always been in the agency? You weren't the one getting tortured but. You were torturing them? You've been having these nightmares alot. Sometimes the boss was manipulating you. Sometimes you were killing.

Why were you having these dreams. You would never kill someone. That innocent man had such a traumatized face and you killed him in the most brutal way ever. You made him bite the stairs. You smashed his jaw. And shot him thrice. A mafia traitors punishment. But why were you seeing it? Who would do such a thing? This is why you swore to never join the mafia.

┊┊.number 5: you feel what they feel, but this time emotionally

you always felt drained. You hated this? You aren't like this. You never felt anything now. There was this constant guilt in your chest. You never felt empathy now when you were on missions. You were distressed that you weren't feeling anything. This isn't you. Why was this happening. Oh. Your soulmate. That made you sadder at the thought. The thought that your soulmate goes through this everyday. You want to see him. Hug him. This is terrible, someone feeling like this. Who could deal with this?

⋇⊶⊰❣⊱⊷⋇

A month had passed like this, Everything was the same. Except Dazai had changed. He didn't flirt with you, he didn't even talk to you. He even avoided talking you with him on a mission. Why is he acting like this. Its really bugging you.

Now that you thought about it. You did the same. Avoided him. Never spent time with him. Never offered to do anything for him. It was like now you two had the same personality and did the same thing. It was a silent mutual agreement that happened you don't even remember when. Did it even happen? Why did it happen even if it did.

Now you crossed eachothers paths like you don't know one another.

Like right now. You were outside getting some stuff and he was out to do you don't know what but you saw him walking infront of you. Without a hi, without a hello, no how are you you walked right past eachother. Just like you always di-

┊┊.number 6: and when things will be lost a red string will connect you two that will never break.

You turned around and looked at him. He did the same. Your eyes pen wide. His breathing stopped. A red string on your pinky that connected to his finger. You looked at the string and looked at him. He did the same. You dropped whatever was in your hands and ran to him and hugged him. He didn't say anything but hugged you back. Those dreams were his memories, those feelings were what he felt, you felt warm because he was near. He was the one who thought you had pretty eyes.

"im so..sorry..." you whispered in between sniffles.

he smiled and pat your head soothing you hair and kissed your forehead. " You don't have to be, im sorry too"

"if only i could i would absorb your pain and return it to you as love -louise kaufmann" you said and smiled at him

"its you...it was always you" he whispered.

and thats why with pain and suffering comes rest in the end.

⋇⊶⊰❣⊱⊷⋇

[beneathstarryskies]

I'd just die to make you proud (Renji x fem!reader)

Word Count: 2,270

Summary: Renji wants to be someone you're proud of. Sometimes he goes a little overboard trying to prove it.

Warnings: smut, fluff, fights, hollow, poison, coma, fem!reader, penetration (p+v), unprotected sex

“Why do you do this, Renji? You’re going to get yourself hurt or killed or suspended from your squad!” You scold him as he sits on your bed. His long red hair spills down his shoulders and over his face. He winces as you dab ointment on the cuts on his cheek and over the bridge of his nose. He wants to confess right away, to tell you how he’d gotten into that stupid fight on the training ground defending you after he heard some creeps making lewd comments about you while you were busy training. He just pouts as you continue fussing over him and scolding him at the same time. 

“Come on, answer me, Renji,” you whine, now desperately seeking answers to why he’s acted this way. You knew how hard he worked to become a lieutenant, and yet he seems determined to sabotage himself like this. You can’t make sense of it, and he doesn’t seem to be willing to offer answers. 

“Just forget it, alright!” he says a little too loudly, making you step back from him with wide eyes. His face softens when he realizes he's startled you. He takes your hands and sighs softly. “Listen, I’m sorry. Just forget it. I’ll start being more careful.” 

“I hope being more careful means not starting more fights,” you huff before carefully placing a bandage on his cheek. 

“Hey, they started it!” 

“Well, whatever,” you roll your eyes. 

He sighs again and pushes your hands from his face. He stretches and pushes his hair back. For a moment, a tense silence falls over you until Renji stands up to grab his kosode off your bed. He slips it on and ties it loosely before putting his hair up in his usual ponytail again. 

“Just don’t worry about it, okay?” he says before kissing your forehead. “I have to go.”

“Ren, where are you going?” 

“Well, if I know Captain Kuchiki he’s already heard about this and is ready to tear me a new one, so,” he sighs and rubs the back of his neck. “Better go face the music.” 

Just as Renji suspected, Byakuya knew of Renji’s fight almost as soon as it happened. Word travels fast around the Seireitei, especially when respected lieutenants get into what amounts to a bar fight on the training grounds. Byakuya is at his desk, busy working on paperwork when Renji walks into the office. He bows before taking a seat across from Byakuya. 

“Sir, I can explain,” Renji begins, but is cut off with a simple wave of Byakuya’s hand. 

“There is nothing I can say that you don’t already know,” Byakuya says without looking up from his paperwork. “Lessons on decorum seem to be wasted on you so I won’t bother wasting my breath.” 

“I’m not suspended?” 

“No,” Byakuya shrugs. “Although, I can change my mind if you wish.” 

“No sir, thank you,” Renji stands and bows again before turning on his heels to leave. 

“Renji, one more thing,” Byakuya calls out. Renji cringes inside when he turns to face his captain again. “Next time you want to defend your beloved’s honor, at least make sure you knock the perpetrators out cold so I won’t be bothered in the middle of my afternoon tea.”

“Yes, sir! I’ll make sure,” Renji nods. “Uhm, I mean…I’ll also try to not get into fights!” 

“Good, you’re dismissed,” Byakuya says nonchalantly. 

Weeks pass after the incident, and Renji once more finds himself in the heat of battle. This time with a Hollow. The two of you were sent with a squad to get rid of it, and your teammates lie dead on the forest floor in pools of blood. You’re leaning against the base of a tree, clutching at a wound on your side where the Hollow has spit poisoned thorns at you. You’d been lucky to only be hit by one, but the poison was enough to drain your energy. Renji was left as the only Soul Reaper still standing in the fight. 

“Renji, let’s go! We have to retreat!” you cried with what little energy you had left, but Renji won’t listen. He can’t stand the idea of you seeing him turn tail and run away when he knows he can beat this Hollow. He’s managed to dodge most of the attacks. 

No, he’ll beat this damn thing or die trying. He wants more than anything to make you proud, and there’s no pride in running away. He’ll be victorious or he’ll die a hero so you can get away. 

“Just run!” he yells at you, not having time to think about the hypocrisy of his words. 

“Renji, please!” 

He ignores you, continuing to fight the hollow with his full strength. Finally, he manages to find a weakness in the Hollow. Right as he’s making the final blow, the Hollow attacks back. 

All you can see is a bright flash of light and a spray of poison. Then, finally, the smoke clears and you see Renji kneeling on the ground holding his shoulder where one of the thorns pierced his skin. Despite the poison working through his body, he stumbles to you and gathers you up in his arms. He has you cradled safely in his arms as he stumbles back towards the safety of the Seireitei. He kisses your forehead softly to soothe your quivering and fear. 

“I got you,” he whispers. 

You cling to him pitifully with your head buried against his chest. Both of you are gasping for breath as the poison works its way into your bloodstream. You don’t know what happens, but your vision goes blurry and then you pass out. 

When you come to again, you’re in the medical ward. You look around the medical ward and a few beds down you see Renji. It takes all of your strength to get out of your bed and stumble towards him. You kneel beside his bed and take his hand as he sleeps restlessly. His heart is pounding and sweat covers his forehead. 

“Renji,” you whisper. “Renji, please wake up.” 

Your eyes widen as he continues to sleep. You try to wake him up again, but he remains sleeping. Tears sting your eyes as you shake him, but he doesn’t stir at all. One of the young bedside attendants notices you’re out of bed and runs over to you. 

“Renji-san needs rest,” the attendant explains. “He is exhausted and badly injured!” 

“Will he wake up?” you ask with your eyes full of tears. 

“Yes! He will awaken, but he needs rest.” 

With those words, you’re ushered back to your own bed to recover. 

Weeks pass with Renji still locked in his sleep. Despite it all, you’re expected to go to missions and continue on as though it’s business as usual. You miss him so much. Every day you’re worried about him. You go to visit him every chance you get, hoping to see him awake and awaiting your visit.

One day, after a hard mission, you go straight home instead of stopping by the medical ward. You just want to clean up first and have a moment to get your thoughts together before heading back into the medical ward to see Renji. 

Just as you’re getting out of the shower, you hear a soft knock on the door. You pull on a robe before going to answer it. Your eyes nearly pop out of your skull when you see Renji standing there. 

“Baby!” you gasp and throw your arms around him. He wraps his arms around your waist and spins you around happily. 

“I’m back, honey,” he says softly. “I’m sorry it took me so long.” 

“I was so worried Renji! I thought you were never going to wake up!” 

Tears roll down your cheeks as you cling to him, taking in everything from the warmth of his body against yours to the way he smells as he you bury your face against his chest. He rubs your back soothingly. He knows his mistake cost you a great deal of worry, and for that he’ll spend lifetimes trying to atone for. 

“You waited for me?” he asks softly as he sets you back down on the ground.

“Of course I did,” you whisper and kiss him softly. You then take his hand to pull him into your home. “I was so worried, but I would’ve waited forever.” 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers softly and kisses you sweetly again. “I’m so fucking sorry.” 

You kiss him eagerly, wanting to taste him and remind yourself that he’s really here with you now. For his part, Renji is overwhelmed by emotion. His hands cradle your cheeks as you kiss over and over, each kiss becoming more heated than the last. He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to get so excited after so long being in recovery, but he feels his cock stirring in his pants. Especially when you start letting out those sweet little moans between kisses. 

“Don’t scare me like that again, Renji,” you whine. 

“I’m sorry, baby. I wanted to make you proud of me,” he says as he pushes you towards the couch. 

“I’m always proud of you, baby,” you whisper between heated kisses. 

Then, he gently lays you back on the couch and spreads your thighs. His deft fingers loosen the knot holding your robe together and he opens it almost in reverence. His cheeks heat up as soon as he sees your body exposed to him. His hands are shaking as he reaches out to touch your breasts, his warm palms moving over them carefully. 

“I want to be someone you’re proud of…Someone you love…Someone…” 

“Renji, please,” you whisper and pull him down to kiss you again. Your hands eagerly move to undress him, shredding each piece of clothing until your bare bodies are pressed against one another. 

“I love you,” he whispers. He shudders as those words leave him for the first time since your relationship has started. He feels like an idiot for taking so long to confess it to you, but it’s out there now. He had to say it before the feeling ate him up inside. 

“I love you too,” you say softly. 

He leans into you, surrounding you with his warmth and presence in a way you’ve craved for so long. He kisses a sloppy trail along your neck and collar bone as one hand sneaks between your bodies. You gasp as his fingers rub your folds in tentative exploration. It’s been so long since he felt your warmth in any way, and now it’s all he can think about. He craves it so badly he can barely think straight. His kisses begin going lower, and when he reaches your stomach you realize what he’s doing. He wants to taste you now, but you don’t know if you can wait that long. You cup his cheeks and pull him back to you. 

“Renji, I can’t wait,” you whine. “I need you now.” 

“Now?” he asks in surprise. “I-I thought…You needed more.” 

“No I need you,” you whimper and raise your hips to grind against his cock. 

“Fuck,” he groans and kisses you sloppily. “Alright, but I’m gonna go slow.” 

He knows usually you need more preparation than this, but he can’t deny you when you’re pleading for him like this. He gives his cock a few firm strokes before guiding it to your entrance. True to his word he pushes into your warm walls slowly, savoring the feeling of your body engulfing his. It’s a connection he’s craved more often than not it seems. Even in his coma, he sometimes dreamt of it. Of being buried to the hilt inside of you and hearing the very same moans you’re letting escape now as he rocks his hips at a gentle pace. 

“Are you proud of me, baby? Are you proud to be mine?” he asks desperately.

“I’m proud of you, Ren,” you moan as you lock your legs around his waist. “I’m always proud of you!” 

He grunts softly and already he’s struggling to hold on. His strong arms wrap around your body, holding you flush against him as he quickens his pace. You cry out at the change in tempo. The passion and pleasure growing inside of you is almost too much to handle. 

“Renji, fuck, it feels so good,” you cry out. 

“I know, baby. I feel it too,” he grunts. 

He reaches between the two of you so he can rub your clit in rapid circles. He needs to feel you cum before he can even imagine letting go of himself. The couch squeaks underneath you as he pounds into your sopping cunt. 

“Fuck! Renji!” you cry out as your orgasm crashes over you, and with the clenching of your walls he’s done for. He throws his head back and curses fall from his lips as shots of thick seed paint your walls. 

The air seems to grow lighter as you both come down from your orgasms. His cheeks are flushed and he flashes you a silly grin before resting his head against your chest. You run your fingers through his hair as you hold him close. 

“I won’t make you wait for me again,” he whispers against your skin. 

“You better not,” you chuckle. “But, baby. I’m so proud of you. You don’t have to be an idiot to prove it.”

His eyes widen as he looks up at you, “So now I’m an idiot?” 

You sigh and kiss him, “That’s not what I meant!” 

[factual-fantasy]

Heya Factual! Congrats on the 23,000! Yet another well deserved milestone earned by your hard work and dedication! Really sorry about the cold- we always seem to get sick at the worst of times! Definitely don't do anything crazy till you're 100%, but thanks for making that really cute celebration piece- you can really tell how much the factual Fam cares about you from their worried expressions...and then there's Gerald, who refuses to let his happy demeanor waver for a second! Though then again, he is still quite young- he might not even understand the concept of getting sick yet!

And on that note, at least till you're better, I definitely won't send any unnecessarily exhausting Asks like last time ( thanks for answering that so thoroughly though- that was really cool! ) and just keep it simple- and my ask today is regarding the simplest Mario enemy, the goomba!

You've mentioned them in the past as beings created by Kamek- How does he do it? How long has he been doing it? Are the goombas sentient, or just savage constructs? How many are there, in ratio to the Koopas? Did the bros have to fight through a bunch of them on their way to the castle? And do any of their variants exist, such as the micro goombas, para goombas, or giant goombas? We require the Goomba Lore!

Thank you! :DD I'm doing my best to take it easy.. I've spent most of my days recently either sleeping, sitting, or playing Pokemon Scarlet XDD that's relaxing right? Yes, I believe so-

As for Gerald, he isn't ignorant to my condition- he's actually meant to be surprisingly emotionally aware. :0 He's smiling though all this because he wants the others to be happy. And if he's calm and smiling, maybe we'll smile too.. 🥺

I was intending to draw a comic that goes into Gerald's character a bit more... But I just haven't been well enough recently to take on a project like that.. :((

And don't worry about "exhausting asks", I encourage them! :D I could really use some lengthy asks as a form of distraction to be honest.. 🥹💔

Speaking of asks, about your Goomba questions..

Well, starting with Kamek actually- I have intentions to make him a few hundred years old. Being the most powerful magikoopa there ever was supposedly.. and he's been associated with the royal Koopa family for generations.. though this idea is in canon limbo, because I'm having trouble figuring how exactly he's managed to live so long. Considering how magic works in my au.. his lengthy life span shouldn't be possible..

None the less, even though I haven't gotten that idea to fit yet- I love it so much that most of the au kinda branches off from it- <XDDD so with that established, Kamek brings Goombas to "life" using magic of course!

I was thinking that the ability animate dead/inanimate things is a very complex magic that took Kamek years to learn. And he was only finally able to master it in the last 100 years or so.

Now for the Goombas, they are not sentient for sure. They are just these little.. zombie like.. machines. They start as poisonous mushrooms and when they are "brought to life", they gain this desire and need move and attack anything that doesn't appear to be a Koopa.

As for the Koopa to Goomba ratio.. I'd say they make up 1.5/10 of the kingdoms population. They are very disposable and "easy" to make.. but they are relatively fragile creatures and take a while to grow.. plus the Goombas don't live very long. Since they uproot themselves upon being "Goomba-fied", they eventually wilt and die.. :/ so that number doesn't ever go over 1.5.

I'm sure Mario and Luigi had to squash some on the way to save Peach the first time. But it was only after her rescue that one landed a bite on Luigi..

As for their variants, the micro and Giant Goombas surly exist! Though king Goomba might not because the original brown mushrooms probably don't grow that big-

As for para-goombas.. hmm.. I know there won't be any Goombas with wings going around. But perhaps there could be a Goomba that can release airborne spores.. or at the very least can attack from afar.. that could get them the title of para-goomba! :0

I think I covered everything, I hope at least-

Thank you for the ask and interest in my au! :DDD it was a nice read and took my mind off of all my ailments for a short time 🥹💖

[fastrainbowdas]

Hi hello I saw you didn't want to reach the tag limit on that reblog but I would very much like to hear your full character analysis on dsaf Jack

!!!

HIIIIII THANK YOU FOR ASKING <333333333

ok um. so.

The biggest thing abt Jack's personality is his apathy. He doesn't really care about anything other than his own amusement (and one other thing but I'll get into that later)

Yes, he agrees to help Fredbear (but what was he supposed to do? Just die?) but he doesn't actually Care about the dead kids. It's why he agrees to kill w Dave so easily! In fact, all Dave has to do to persuade him is to tell him how it would benefit Jack and Jack never argues that it's wrong. (I don't think he doesn't know that - he simply doesn't care)

He also... doesn't really care about his siblings either. He says he does, sure, but he doesn't, really. He has no problems killing them on evil routes (and while technically it is only Legacy Jack that does this, it still applies to Regular Jack and I'll explain why in a bit)

Here is where we get into differences between Regular and Legacy; Legacy actually cares about his siblings' deaths (insane, I know). Yeah, that is different from caring about them bcs. as stated before. He kills them in cold blood. lmfao

But he also gets Pissed when Dave flaunts around Dee's scarf and says it's his "most prized souvenir" to the point where he rips his fucking head off. So clearly Legacy cares that his siblings were murdered.

But Regular never ??? does anything ??????? to imply he gives a fuck ??????????? Like sure he says he cares but like. idk considering he knows Who his siblings are now and he has no problem lying to and/or killing them. I'd say he doesn't really care.

Anyway to get to the other thing Jack cares about - Dave! There's no arguing on this, Dave is the only person Jack couldn't bring himself to lie to in the good ending of dsaf 3 and directdoggo has confirmed that that entire monologue was just Jack going around saying "I love you". And we can tell Legacy also cares about Dave, since in dsaf 3, you only solidify the evil path with the line "Dave... I missed you." Which is really fuckin weird to say if you don't care about the person you're saying this to and only want to kill people again? And it's not like Jack can't do it by himself, not to mention Legacy could've easily just. Said he wants to murder again, there's no reason for him to lie about missing Dave. He wouldn't gain anything from lying and Dave was desperate enough to the point where he absolutely would've taken "ok fine lets kill again" more or less the same.

And before anyone tries telling me that Legacy is possessed by Henry or whatever the fuck. That's just misinterpretation of the text. Please go back and rewatch the evil ending, Henry literally STATES he cannot directly control Jack, just talk to him.

SO ALL THIS TO SAY. Both Regular and Legacy Jack care about Dave.

And- that's kind of weird, isn't it? Why is caring about Dave like. More or less the only thing they have in common? Why Dave specifically? What's so special about him?

Well I've given it some thought and. Simply put - nothing. There is nothing special about Dave. What is special is the circumstances in which their relationship formed and developed.

Dave is the only person Jack has gotten to know after he became soulless. Not only that, but they've hung out repeatedly (both the child murder and vegas) so it makes sense Jack would care about him, no?

As for why he doesn't care about anyone he got to know before dying. The most accurate way I can think to phrase it is that losing his soul reset all his feelings.

Anyway. To the part that fucks w me the most.

The similarities between BlackJack and Legacy Jack.

This should Not be a section that I need to make. What the fuck is this. If anything they should be polar opposites, no? BlackJack is literally this guy's soul and they very much clash at the end of the dsaf 2 pure evil ending so what the fuck am i talking about

And I could mention the whole. killing in cold blood thing. But honestly, even Regular Jack does it? If you go w Dave but don't go for the pure evil ending, Jack is still a murderer and all.

So for actual things BlackJack and Legacy have in common that Regular Jack doesn't. The first one that comes to mind is absolutely the enormous ego. (BlackJack thought he could deal with Henry all on his own (which is like. fucking insane. when you actually get to the fight you realize all of blackjack's attacks are fucking useless lmfao) and Legacy LITERALLY LOOKED GOD IN THE EYE AND SAID "I AM GOD". THATS ALMOST KINDA SICK. WHAT THE FUCK DUDE) And because of said ego, they also treat everyone else as inferior!! So that's fun. (BlackJack's entire monologue about how everyone in your party is a monstrosity and he'll show Henry what he's created and if he doesn't feel bad abt it he'll kill him!! And Legacy straight up calling Peter his prey in that one scene)

The last thing is that they're... kind of the only versions of Jack that actually care about their siblings' deaths? Like I said earlier, Regular doesn't give a fuck and both BlackJack and Legacy make it very clear that they're upset about it.

I really like what my friend said on this matter - that BlackJack and Legacy are coping with their tragedy in a similar way, while Regular Jack is coping differently. For BlackJack and Legacy, revenge seems to be a big thing, so it's not really a shocker that the more they care, the more cruel and violent they are. Simply put, caring serves as motivation for doing terrible things.

Um. I am very passionate about Legacy Jack.

Moving on from him though. Regular Jack is really interesting too.

Bcs he doesnt really. change between the different endings. Really, the only difference in Him Specifically between whether he saves the kids or not is just. Does he regard the promise he was forced to make as more important? or does he not give a shit and only think of his own amusement?

Frankly considering that he murders children for kicks and that BlackJack is implied to have been. Very Brutal when killing Henry. It really makes me wonder about what Jack was like before he died (or Alive Jack as I call him).

To me, Alive Jack is the biggest mystery regarding Jack because it's so hard to say what behaviors of all other versions of Jack are a result of Jack's tragedy and what are simply What he's Like. I'd love to say more on this topic but there simply isn't anything to say, all we can do is speculate.

Anyway yeah!! I think that's everything!! I didn't expect it to be so long lmao rip

Thanks for readinggggggggggg :]

EDIT: Hi here's a link to a thread where I answer a few questions :]