#don’t want to clog the tags TOO much

[alex-travaganza]

Headcanon dump when

you’ve made a grave mistake. media analysis is one of my special interests and i’m also a lifelong writer so this will definitely start to get incomprehensibly ranty (warning i literally gave like an essay length explanation of how i would rewrite heinz’ story in mml s2 and this whole thing devolves away from the question very quickly)

1. my funniest one and most out of pocket one i like to bring up is that i think doofenshmirtz is such a whore imo. an absolute harlot. i think he gets around. not like people are attracted to him or find him charming (he is NOT) but he will have been with everyone in the room, like, at least once. particularly the love muffin scientists, especially rodney, and he and monogram DEFINITELY were together at some point

2. on the monogram thing, i figured monogram “experimented” at one point before doof was an owca threat and dated heinz for a short period of time and that’s why they call eachother by their first names and are so familiar with eachother (heinz probably turned him from bi-curious to homophobic very quickly). i just think the idea is hilarious

3. obviously, heinz is transgender and so is perry, that’s a given. and as mentioned one of my previous posts, 2d doof is a karen archetype and your conservative aunt at thanksgiving dinner (you decide if he’s actually cishet or if he’s like blaire white)

4. less of a headcanon and more of an “i wish this happened”, i think monty and vanessa should have stayed together and i don’t like ferbnessa much but that’s also a pretty popular take. i like the perryshmirtz parallels what can i say. also this pairs very funnily with my first and second headcanons

5. buford and bajeet are qpps (they don’t know what that is but they are). ginger is supportive

6. another obvious one, i think pretty much everyone is neurodivergent because of course they are. to get specific on the ones i feel strongest about, heinz has audhd, perry is low-empathy autistic, the rest of the flynn-fletcher family besides linda are autistic, milo is autistic, cavendish is autistic, and dakota has adhd. thank you for listening to my ted talk. i’m actually.. 👉👈 writing my first ever fic, focused around how heinz and perry communicate with their contrasting neurodivergence that will be up on this account once i finally post it to ao3, and that goes a lot more in depth

7. this is actually something i feel differs a bit from most headcanons i see. my take is that norm initially (throughout most of pnf) does not see perry as a father figure at all and only tries to get that from doof, and is also jealous that perry gets all his attention, so kind of actively dislikes him. he also hasn’t made the connection that anyone other than heinz could fulfill that role for him, because in his robot brain, he will take father in the most literal definition, like they have to be directly responsible for creating you. and not something more complex and nuanced like it actually is because he’s a robot and he’s not gonna get that right away. but i feel like over time, he’d begin to realize those nuances, and start to accept perry as family, and get much more out of him as a father figure than heinz. especially since (unless it’s a human au) they would have similarly complicated relationships with not being human but also being fully sentient.

that was a long one and i still don’t feel like i covered all of it but maybe i’ll do a fic about that one too one day 💔

8. i don’t know, as i am writing this sentence, how explosive i will get with my details on this one, but my favorite proposed future for heinz is both a mix between doof 101 and act your age. so an open secret between my friends and i is that although i love both seasons of milo murphy’s law, i really. really. dislike the whole professor time thing. don’t get me wrong, i would keep the whole reveal and not change anything about the season 1 finale.

but, if i, alister r. zamir, were personally hired by dan povenmire and swampy marsh to write the continuation of said finale, i would make everyone including the audience think he’s professor time but have that be a RED HERRING and not ACTUALLY have him be professor time because i think that’s REALLY BAD!! (maybe make it sara or cavendish or even phineas and ferb since they already did that)

the reason why i, the new writer of milo murphy’s law season 2, think this sucks, is because heinz has spent his whole life trying to live up to the expectations of others, and in the shadow of others and is always striving for unreachable goals to substantiate his self worth. it’s like his whole character, it’s his whole thing, this is his canon ass story, so to just throoooww in that whole professor time thing VALIDATES this behavior and encourages him to keep holding himself at an unnecessarily high standard, PLUS the fate of the world is kind of in his hands now, so that’s FINE. AND IM FINE ABOUT IT AND IM NOT MAD. YOU ARE.

so coming back to doof 101 and act your age, particularly act your age (which i also don’t like as an episode but that’s another story), as somebody who suffers from The Serious Illnesses of the Mental Variety, heinz being able to move on, adjust his expectations, and not be doing great or amazing or rule the tristate whatever and just be fine with doing alright, is super meaningful and relatable to me

so i think they should have just stuck with that. i like the phineas and ferb characters included in mml and like i said id keep a lot of it, but i’d save all the heinz arc stuff for phineas and ferb exclusively cause i love the perry funding professor time thing and that whole deal is cute but also i hate it. because it’s so rushed. and everything with his development feels so out of place. and wrong. and it makes me throw a tantrum.

not to mention, but i WILL, how heinz is completely justified about being upset and falling into depression because of this whole ordeal, and they sorttt of treat it like he’s justified? but they also make him unbearably annoying and we as an audience are justifiably unsympathetic to that and it seems like you want me to feel bad for him sometimes but also hate his guts, which could have been an interesting conundrum ig, but even though i love milo murphy’s law, it’s character writing is farrr from strong enough to get any kind of interesting story or arc out of that

so like, in conclusion, dwampy, hire me, i will work for pennies

alright that’s not all of them but i’ve been writing for 20 minutes and my fingers hurt thank you very much for asking me i needed to get these out of my system

#phineas and ferb #milo murphy’s law #milo murphy’s law spoilers #mml spoilers #heinz doofenshmirtz #only tagging him since he gets brought up a lot #don’t want to clog the tags TOO much #asks #thank you: #anonymous

[rottingmanifesto]

Same image

#look I am feverish and sick so you get shitposts #lincoln clay #I don’t want to clog the tag too much with stupid bullshit

[uncaught-coolfish]

Survey #5

I know this is similar to survey 3 but in terms of what I’m doing all these surveys for, they are two separate things. Vote based off your own opinions and please reblog for a larger sample size.

#rwby #uncaught-coolfish #adam taurus #rwby adam #jacques schnee #blake belladonna #yang xiao long #bumbleby #weiss schnee #ilia amitola #sienna khan #surveys are almost all done dw i don’t want to clog the tag TOO much lol /j

[fuckjod69]

thinking abt palamedes and harrow being best friends really hurts my little heart so bad :’)

#i didn’t wanna clog the tags on my last reblog but just. imagining palamedes gets to see harrow again but she’s not harrow anymore shes #nona and nobody has any clue who she is but he. is seeing harrows body moving around and knowing that deep down it’s her in some fucked up #way. but not being able to actually talk to harrow again- after everything they’ve been through. how the last time he saw her- she wasn’t #herself and now she isn’t herself again. how much he probably misses his friend while also loving nona too #how devastating it’ll be to lose nona but gain an old friend. is this how we want to live? constantly losing people and getting them back #but losing so many others in the process? #nona the ninth spoilers #technically #i’m just a simple man talking shit don’t mind me LOL #ugh. #also really wanna know where the FUCK are judith and corona bc. pyrrha cam and pal are the 3 mentioned in the description or whatever so #where are the other babes. where’s the lesbians my dudes #absolutely terrified to find out

[perlelune]

Tag, You’re It | Ethan Landry | vii.

Happy, carefree college days meet their abrupt end when every guy who approaches you mysteriously turns up dead.

Warnings: NON-CON, Stalking, Bimbo!Reader, Clueless Reader, Loss of Virginity, Incel Ethan, Cheerleader Reader, Skin Carving (w/knife), Canon Typical Slashing, Voyeurism, Kidnapping, Forced Masturbation, Filming, Blackmail

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

The brightness of the floodlights beaming across the stadium rivals that of the stars' peppering the sky. The bleachers are packed, students waving and cheering from the crowd at the lined up players. 

Tension hangs in the air, so thick and palpable you feel the weight of it clogging your airways. 

Shaking your shoulders and strengthening your spine, you rush to join the other cheerleaders at the edge of the field. 

The minute she notices you, Alana makes a beeline for you, her blonde ponytail swinging from left to right and her forehead creased with a deep wrinkle of displeasure. 

You go still and keep your gaze low as she approaches. A lion might cower beneath the sharp coolness of her glare. 

If anyone can make someone flinch with her eyes alone, it's Alana. 

"Where the hell were you?" she blurts out without ceremony, sternly planting herself before you with her arms crossed.

Words stumble out of you in a nervous heap.

"I-I ran into a friend and-" you start but she interrupts you with a dismissive wave of her immaculately manicured hand. 

"Nevermind, the game’s about to start," she says, gripping her temple and releasing a deep, irritated sigh. She squints and mutters below her breath, "Just because I moved you from flyer to backspot doesn’t mean you get to slack off."

Your heart pinches at that. After Halloween night, nothing was the same. While Alana agreed to let you remain a member of the squad, she shifted your position when the rumors about you being in cahoots with Ghostface spread around campus like wildfire. 

She didn’t want you to sully the squeaky clean image of the team. So you were relegated to the bottom of the pyramid where you could blend in and not bring too much attention to yourself.

You don’t mind it excessively. The looks people give you are one thing. You’ve learnt to brush off the unfortunate scrutiny. 

But being part of the team…it’s the one thing in your life you’re actually good at. 

Damn near everything else, you have spectacularly failed at. 

Cheerleading makes you feel good about yourself. 

You don’t want to lose that. 

Lisa tosses a questioning glance your way, green eyes flicking to Ethan up in the bleachers, diligently snapping pictures. 

He notices you peering up at him and smiles at you but, unlike every other time, it doesn’t quite reach his eyes and he quickly looks away. 

When your focus settles on Lisa again, confusion etched on features, your heart sinks. 

You mouth the word 'later' to her. As she nods at you, your stomach knots at the prospect of the conversation ahead.

If only you could tell her now, rip the band-aid…but the game's about to start. 

You held high hopes for it to work out. Lisa was voted 'hottie of the month' more times than anyone else on the team. 

Everyone who meets her instantly falls for her charm and stunning looks. 

She also has many hobbies outside of cheerleading, from video games to card games you couldn’t understand anything about if you tried your hardest. 

You thought she and Ethan would click and make such an amazing couple. 

It never occurred to you he might already like someone else. You can’t remember getting a glimpse of him with any girl no matter how much you scratch your mind to recall. 

Now your curiosity is piqued about this mystery girl.

Ethan sounded so taken with her. 

She must be quite the girl to have stolen his heart like that, probably as cool and smart as he is. 

Maybe you could try to set them up instead. 

You're still hell-bent on figuring out a way to thank him for how much he's been there for you lately.

Helping him gather the courage to pursue the girl of his dreams could be one way to do that.

Alana claps her hands, her attention pivoting to the whole team, the other girls’ tense expressions mirroring yours. "Everyone, showtime!" she finally announces.

Thoughts vacate your mind as you lift your pom-poms and concentrate on performing the routine to perfection. You don’t miss a single step, losing yourself to the beat played by the band.

You can’t help but bask in pride when you land a perfect pirouette, never faltering once. 

Everything’s right again. Simple and easy. 

The thrill of the game. The bated breath each time the opposite team tilts the odds in their favor. 

The rush of victory. 

Victory.

Before you know it, the game’s over and the elated clamor of the crowd is filling the stadium. 

Amidst the overflow of joy erupting around you, Tyler fights his way through the crowd to reach you. 

He’s still in his football uniform when he effortlessly lifts you from the ground and whirls you in the air.

"You’re my good luck charm, gorgeous," he beams. 

You laugh as your head spins. "Ty, put me down."

He does as you say, keeping his hands on your waist to steady you when your feet touch the grassy floor again. 

"Sorry," he chuckles. "Got carried away."

As he bends over you and his lips graze your cheek, your stomach flutters. 

He rears back, blushing while holding your hands. "I’m sorry. Was that okay?"

Mouth agape, you blink up at him. "It’s totally okay," you stammer, heat rising in your cheeks. 

You’d missed that feeling, the simplicity of casual flirtation and having a crush. 

The euphoric bubble is popped when your gaze locks with Lisa’s in the background. As you watch her go back inside, your chest twinges. 

You squeeze Tyler’s hand apologetically. 

"Can we pick that up later?"

He gives a swift nod, his bright grin intact. 

"Of course. You’re coming to the OKB house to celebrate, right?"

"Maybe not. My friends and I kind of had plans."

He cups the side of your face. 

"Okay. What about Saturday night then? We can do dinner and a movie." He pauses and studies you. "I’m just not about games. I like you and I’d love to take you out sometime, that’s all."

His straightforward admission curves your lips skyward. But the smile on your face quickly dies as a chill blooms at the base of your spine, scattering outward and freezing you in your spot. 

Sucking a sharp breath, you whirl and inspect your surroundings.

You’re astonished to find nothing barring the excited people celebrating around you. 

You could have sworn you felt…something. 

Like someone watching you. 

The strange sensation clings to you as Tyler inquires, his tone rife with concern, "Is something wrong?"

You shake your head and slot a wobbly smile onto your face. 

"Uh…not at all. I’m free on Saturday," you chime. 

"Awesome. I’ll text you the details."

You hum your approval and he brushes another soft kiss on your cheek. 

Part of you is over the moon. You’ve wanted this for weeks since Tyler and you started hanging out. 

But something is off, though you can’t pinpoint what. A wrongness you can’t define or explain. 

Even as you stroll down the hallways toward the girls’ locker room, your nerves are frazzled, thrumming in alert. 

It’s been weeks since you’ve been this tense. Since…him.

"You’re coming, babe?" Mindy says, grabbing your hand as she runs into you in the hallway. 

Anika’s by her side and gives you a tight hug. "Hey, it’s been a minute," she observes.

You can’t deny that. Between cheer practice, Ethan tutoring you and all the assignments you need twice as much time than everyone else to complete…you’ve neglected hanging out with your friends. 

Before you can open your mouth to explain, Mindy rolls her eyes. "It’s because she spends all her time with Ethan now."

Anika giggles as your best friend pretends to gag at the mere mention of Ethan’s name. 

Usually, you’d respond to her antics but you’re too distracted tonight. 

Besides, there’s a conversation you need to have as soon as possible, much as you dread it. 

"Don’t wait for me. I’ll catch up," you tell Mindy before making your way to the girls’ locker room. 

Chad tries to stop you on the way to share his excitement but you promise him you’ll see him later. While disappointment paints his features, he lets you go.

Ethan’s nowhere to be seen and you remember about the trash he mentioned before the game. Your brow furrows in befuddlement. What an odd time to pick to handle his garbage. You suppose Ethan’s just this obsessive about having a clean space. Maybe he’s one of those ODC people. 

Gnawing on your lip, you sluggishly drag your feet inside the changing room. Most of the girls are wrapped in bubbly chatter, the excitement of the night coating the air. 

You clear your throat and sit on the bench near one particular redhead with a dour look on her face. 

Twiddling your fingers, you clear your throat before trembling words spill out of you. 

"Hey, Lisa. So I-"

She cuts you off while buttoning her shirt, "Don’t bother. I can already tell from your face."

Your brows draw together.

"My face?"

"Yeah, you just…you wear your heart on your sleeve, you know?" Her voice cracks as her mouth twists in a hollow smile. "He said no, didn’t he?"

Your shoulders sag. "I’m so sorry."

She flips her hair and releases a heavy sigh. 

"Don’t be. Plenty of fish in the sea and all that." She picks up her backpack and stands, hands on her hips. "Bummer, but it is what is."

"He said he already likes someone else," you explain, hoping to soften the blow. 

She gives you a pointed glare before scoffing, "Someone else, huh?" She exhales and folds her arms. "Do me a favor…Let him down easy, will you?"

Your lashes bat as you tilt your head sideways. "What do you mean?"

She sighs again and sidles closer to you to gently cradle your face.

"Sweetie, there aren't a lot of girls Ethan hangs out with…"

Your confusion grows tenfold. You noted that too. Was she trying to hint at the identity of the mystery girl? Did she figure it out before you could?

"Uh?"

Lisa scrutinizes you before an acrid laugh peals from her lips.

"I envy you sometimes, you know," she says, letting go of your face as a forlorn smile pulls her lips. "Maybe if I were more like you…I wouldn’t feel as crappy as I do right now."

"Lisa…"

She takes a step back when you reach for her, flashing you a huge grin. 

"I’ll see you at practice. Thanks for trying."

Lisa leaves and you change out of your cheerleading outfit and back into a regular one. You elect to shower at home on the way to meet up with your friends, too down in the dumps to properly bask in Alana congratulating you for your performance tonight after giving her usual post-game captain speech. 

As you gather your things from your locker, preparing to leave, your phone rings. 

You scowl at the unknown caller ID, picking up without much thought.

"Hello?"

"I thought we had something special. I’m so disappointed in you, princess," a distorted, tragically familiar baritone rumbles on the other end of the line.

Your heart drops to your feet. 

"I didn’t do anything. Please…" you whimper, tears already collecting in your eyes. 

You thought you were done with him…or rather that he was done with you. After giving him what he asked, you thought you were off the hook. 

You were so stupid.

Ghostface unleashes a sinister laugh, turning your blood to ice. 

"Didn’t do anything? Giving away what’s mine to some lame alpha bro. Opening your legs for some dickhead who doesn’t deserve you."

You sniffle, your fingers quaking around the phone.

"We haven’t done anything, I swear."

"Good…And you never fucking will."

His foreboding inflection makes your insides wrench. Abruptly, the call ends. 

Your phone clatters to the ground as you rush outside, tears streaming down your face. Every single thought in your head is turned to Tyler and the danger he’s in. 

You don’t get far, pandemonium unleashing around you as you leap into the hallway. Panicked students bump into you. You zigzag through them as the thunderous beats of your heart grow louder in your ears. 

A frantic scream reaches you from the other end of the hallway. 

"Somebody calls an ambulance," they shout. "Ghostface shanked one of the players in the shower."

Your eyes go wide as you stumble and collapse, the room swiveling off its axis through the veil of your tears. 

~

#ethan landry x reader #ethan landry #dark!ethan landry #bimbo!reader #ethan landry x you #scream 6 #scream

[kastelixa]

Instead of posting pointless callouts, use your brains.

tldr: some of yall need to learn what a fucking block button is

Genuinely what is so hard about pressing the block button? Like omg I promise no one cares about your fuckass callout posts or rants. Like some of these people are embarrassing as hell. If you get triggered by shit on the internet, it’s YOUR decision on wether or not you want to interact or block and move on with your life. Like brother, i’m not going to throw a fit and freak out over some post that just so happened to contain weird shit on it. You know what I do? I MOVE ON WITH MY LIFE. Because I got better shit to worry about than some random ass fic on tumblr.

You like ddlg? Cool. Doesn’t hurt me or anyone, I don’t care. You like incest? Good for you! You like noncon? Okay! Like do y’all see how easy it is to just smile and nod? Trust, policing what people post and enjoy, is not going to change shit. It’s just annoying as fuck. People pick and choose, because some of the shit you all consume wouldn’t be considered normal either, going by what you all say.

According to all of your logic, blood kinks, knife kinks, gun kinks, piss kinks, and etc. should not be normalized either. Murder shouldn’t be written about, especially gore. Which is fucking moronic, considering how RE is built on violence and gore. Please, learn how to separate fiction from reality.

Many people are fans of iconic slasher films and horror movies. Michael Myers is a rapist and a murderer. But guess what? No one CARES! Because he’s not REAL. I could go on with so much more examples, but you should get the point by now. Hopefully. Dark content is everywhere, why is it now that it’s weird? Makes no fucking sense.

I get that some of you don’t want your precious white boy’s image to be tainted or defamed or whatever, but trust, Leon Kennedy is not reading these fics nor would he care. ‘He’s not a rapist or into incest!’, well he also wouldn’t call you ‘sweetheart’ or whatever cheesy bs fluff fics contain nowadays. But that’s the whole point, isn’t it? It’s all OOC. We KNOW he’s not a horrible person or an incredibly affectionate lover, but people write whatever they want. And no one’s going to stop them! Not the posts clogging up the tags or the weird asks.

There’s so much more, but the main arguments that keep being repeated are ‘it’s weird’ and ‘if you write about it, you’re probably going to do it in real life’. That take is so fucking stupid I can’t help but laugh. Same bs as white moms claiming their son is going to shoot some place out just because he plays violent video games. The whole point? SEPARATE FICTION FROM REALITY. And if you don’t like something? IGNORE IT? Why are you willingly engaging like omg are you stupid or dumb.

OH AND. ‘kids could see this!’ When will you all learn that no matter what you do, you cannot control what a person sees or decides to interact with. Especially minors. I’m willing to bet half of a smut writers followers are minors. Guess what? People lie all the time, about their ages and whatever else. It’s the fucking internet, of course they do. It’s not the responsibility of the blog owner to take care of children. The most they could do is plaster a big fat MDNI on their blog, that’s it. It’s the job of the parents to control what their kid watches or consumes, and we can’t exactly help with that. So don’t pretend to gaf about minors like omg.

Anyways. I’m too lazy to continue writing like I just needed to say this because some of you are slow. Me and many others are going to continue to write whatever the fuck we want. In conclusion? Block if you don’t like it LMAO. I don’t care about what some rando has to say on the internet.

#🪼☆.thinking #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x y/n #leon s kennedy x you #dark content #some of yall r DUMB

[undercoverpena]

i will wait

johnny 'soap' mactavish x f!reader

wc: 1.3k | fluff w/feels and dedicated to @eowynstwin who i aim to make smile. summary: Knuckles against your cheek as he merges his joy with yours, whispering I love you so only you can hear. 

Things are different when he’s home. 

The sun is warmer, the light having an additional glow; the candles smell stronger, and food has more taste. You told him that once before, that he had such a profound impact on you. His cheeks had blushed, and then he’d kissed you as if he was trying to steal the air from your lungs. 

You like it when his voice is no longer a distant memory, but something dripping in your ear. You’re back to his chest, a hand up and around his neck, as you stand over the hob. 

Yer t’good to me, lass. I’ll remind you of that when I drag you into a furniture shop.

It’s hard, but it’s worth it being with Johnny. He brings laughter, smiles and makes your heart so full, you’re not sure how it ever thumped so boldly before knowing him. He also makes you grin so broad your face hurts—an ache that’s not entirely gone since the moment he slotted himself into your life. 

All of it, the two of you, began with a kind smile as you served him a cup of tea. Him with his cousins, loud and brash, in the cafe you work in. The flirting began shortly after, continuing and escalating when he stood next to you at the fence of a local football game, and it all cemented itself with a kiss—in a village where everyone knows one another. 

Anyone tell yer that you got the prettiest eyes, lass?  It’s not usually the first thing someone says.  Well, y’have. Thank you… Johnny. Thank you, Johnny. 

You did. 

Over and over again. 

But, it’s worth it. The moments in between filled with a loud, heart-filled Scottish family and the constant knowledge that when he’s able to, he’ll hold you close. His arms around your waist, face aching from laughing, cheeks throbbing from smiling. Knuckles against your cheek as he merges his joy with yours, whispering I love you so only you can hear. 

Don’t wanna leave. Wanna stay ‘ere, place my tongue between y’thighs—taste heaven all over again. You keep talking like that, MacTavish, and I won’t let you go. 

It would be a lie to say he didn’t come with loneliness. A sight you didn’t notice in full until the two of you signed your names and a pair of keys were in your palm. It showed itself when he became the man who lives in your home, who isn’t always present. Not just physically, but mentally. 

His things are mixed and merged with yours, sometimes more than others. In good times, there are boots by the doors and a duffel bag left in the way. Sometimes, there’s just your shoes, coat and tidiness. A memory of him, a ghost haunting a side of the bedroom. 

You realise quickly, you have come to hate the tidiness. You like his mess—one caused by not being home long enough to know where things go. 

Foolishly, you had thought you missed him the most when the two of you first began seeing one another. When you had to say goodbye at the airport and hold back your tears which clogged your throat. 

You were proved wrong when you moved in together, staring at unworn shirts with the tags still on, writing plans on the calendar you weren’t sure he’d be here for. Saying goodbye on your doorstep, heart aching, hoping you’d see him in a few months at the very least. 

Occasionally, you’re far more lonely when he’s home. When he’s haunted by the failings, the loss and the little mistakes that mount—even if they never did too much damage. When he’s around you, but not quite in the way you like or are used to… that’s when you long for him. 

Anyone tell yer that you got the prettiest eyes, lass?  You do. Constantly.  Because, y’have. Johnny…

Let me compliment y’, hen. It’s all I’ve wanted to do since I left.

He allows you in when the lights are off, the blankets drawn back, nothing covering either of your skin. Both in a vulnerable state, but never feeling safer. An orange glow flutters in through undrawn curtains, him on his side, leaning on his elbow as he stares at you. Trailing calloused fingers up and over your bare hip, breathe dancing along your collarbone. 

It’s hard. To switch from Soap t’ Johnny. 

He says it as though one is a mask and the other is someone he barely knows. Something you hope you kiss away, reminding him who he is, pulling him back using the thread tied between you. 

How can I help?  Jus’ be you, can always find myself back t’you. 

He likes the stars, how they twinkle. You wonder if it’s a ploy, a way to get you outside curled up with him on a rickety chair and a blanket. His hands all over you, aiming to keep you warm, but leaving nothing but goosebumps in their path. 

Missed y’loads. You don’t have to miss me now. Don’t I kno’ it. 

You show him why he doesn’t need to—taking him upstairs, to the mattress that barely knows him. You let your teeth run along his jaw, hands over his chest. Smoothing over new marks, faded bruises and a wounded soul.

It’s the way he prefers, even if he doesn’t say it. Forcing reasons from his tongue why he just wants to lie in bed, but never complaining when you slowly slide whatever clothes you’re wearing from your skin. 

He doesn’t protest when you throw your leg over his, when you bring his lips to yours—tasting the lost time and love that lives on them. 

You sink down so he fills you like only he can, groaning close to his ear, filling his mind with sounds that can root him here. His hand sliding between you, a smirk elongating, Johnny returning to you—mouth parted, ghosting over yours as he watches in awe and earnestness.

Y’so pretty when y’make a mess, lass— —Johnny— I kno’, lemme feel y’hen. 

Eventually, when the two of you have said all you can say without using words, breath returns to your lungs. Both of you meet messy sheets, and he runs his knuckles over your cheek, a softness in his eyes—a simmering brightness that’ll fully bloom after some sleep. 

You watch him, fingers tracing his chin as he lets his gaze run over you. Likely painting you, committing you to some canvas he has thrown up in his mind. 

He’s drawn you before. Almost as naked as you are now, but there had been no ring on your finger, no sheets under you that the two of you had chosen together. A messier time, when you weren’t sure if he’d always come home to you—not like you know now, eyes catching the glint of the streetlight catching the gem on your left hand. 

“What you thinking about?” 

Sliding up into his cheek, his smile all Johnny—the one which had hooked you in. The one which made your stomach flip and your chest fill, even now. 

“That Gho—Simon‘ll be here in a few days,” he whispers. 

Tracing his bottom lip with your finger, you roll your lips. “And then, I’ll steal your surname.” 

“Not theft if I’m givin’ it y’, hen.” 

Cupping his cheek, you smile as he mirrors yours. “I am so in love with you, Johnny.”

“I love yer too, hen. More tha’ I can put into words.” One of his hands sliding over your hip, eyes shifting, darkening—turning from bright blue into something akin to an ocean. “So, lemme show y’instead.” 

He’s home, you think as he kisses down your collarbone, tongue drawing circles as he leaves a trail over your breasbone. 

Fingers in his hand, wrapping, curling around an outgrown mohawk, gasping as he spells how much he loves you. 

#john soap mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish #soap x reader #soap mactavish #johnny soap mactavish #johnny mactavish x reader #soap Mactavish x f!reader #soap 🧼 #john mactavish x reader #john mactavish x you #johnny mactavish #soap mactavish x reader #soap mactavish x you #cod soap x reader #cod soap #soap mw2

[ringsofsaturnnnn]

armin is the boyfriend who wears hair ties on his wrist to help stretch them out for you because he knows that you hate how tight they are at first. he also always wants to make sure he has one in case yours breaks.

armin is the boyfriend who will take your makeup off for you if you’re too tired to do it yourself. he doesn’t want your pores to get clogged.

armin is the boyfriend who waits on you hand and foot. you want water? don’t worry, he’s got it. hungry? do you want take-out? if you don’t, don’t worry, he’ll cook for you. cold? he’s already getting you a blanket. however, when it comes to caffeine.. “love, maybe you shouldn’t have that third energy drink. maybe we can share? just so you don’t have too much caffeine..”

armin is the definition of the perfect boyfriend. while every girl chases after him, he simply turns a blind eye. why? because he only wants you, his special angel 💕

tag list :: @underthetree845

#armin fluff #armin arlert fluff #armin arlert x reader #armin fanfiction #snk armin #armin snk fluff #armin x reader #armin x you #armin x reader fluff #armin x you fluff #armin #armin arlert #armin x y/n #armin x y/n fluff #↳ saturn drabbles ☄︎. * #yes i write fluff.. occasionally #→˚₊·🐚 ੭* r.o.s | a. arlert

[atlasnessie]

please, don’t get rid of me so soon. wings of the devil — mini series

SYNOPSIS — how about, instead of trying to send the demon back to the underworld so quickly, you invite him as your plus one to your friends wedding ?

series masterlist tag list (open) — @cheriiyaya @kuro-chi69 @sleepykolya @kissesmellow21 @lilylylalil @willywokaa @malaikachan @amvpk01 @cookiechu18 @little-miss-chaoss @phoenix-eclipses @cocodrilofeliz @almond-t0fu

OSAMU DAZAI FELT OUT of place. despite standing in his full human form, handsome and beautifully disguised, he felt tense, uncomfortable. he leaned on the wall, watching humans mindlessly dancing their heart away, laughter and cheers filling the air.

dazai was at a wedding that you had been invited to. getting two invitations by the bride (then bride-to-be), he wanted to go. so, so badly. perhaps he could make a deal with another naive human, consume their soul whole and feel ecstasy again, even if it was just for a moment. everything he would do was carefully calculated in his head a few days before the wedding, even having a plan to woo and have a dance with you. but this wasn’t how he thought of it.

you were chatting with a few co-workers that had recognized you, sharing a drink and dragging you away. osamu dazai, however, was nothing more than a plus one. he doesn’t know anyone or anything. as he watches from a distance, the party lights seem all too bright and the women that constantly come up to him with lovesick eyes slowly become nothing more than a nuisance. neon blue lights shine over his eyes and, like lightening, you’re out of his sights.

the demon hesitates for a moment before he sighs, pushing himself off the wall and rubbing the corner of his eyes. bringing himself up and brushing any debris off his most nicest suit, he slyly grabs a champagne glass and going off to find you.

“you don’t talk much in the office, so i thought you wouldn’t be coming !” people laugh in agreement, covering their lips with a hand to hide their teeth. your face feels hot as you awkwardly laugh along, biting on the edge of the champagne glass as your eyes divert away. you wanted to get away, go home and sleep and forget this day had ever happened. you shouldn’t have listened to dazai, nor should you have even brought him here.

wait …

where is dazai ?

your eyes widen slightly in realization as you stare at the ground, feeling your heart drop to your stomach. your mind wanders off to what he could be doing. perhaps charming some young lady you haven’t spoken to before or trying to clog the toilet with various items. you needed to make up an excuse, fast.

“sorry, i need to —”

“there you are, dear !”

your eyes twitch slightly at the voice. speak of the devil. quiet literally.

you slowly turn your head then followed by your body to see dazai practically skipping over to you with a smile and champagne threatening to spill on the fancy church carpets. you could hear the whispers of co-workers wondering who this ever so handsome young man was and- the most important question of them all- if he was single.

“i’ve been looking all over for you. there’s a photo booth i’ve been dying to do with you.” dazai links his arms with yours and smiles down at you, followed by a wink that complimented his charming aura.

“ah, [name],” an older women started, startled by dazai’s charming and glowing looks. “who’s your friend ?”

you blink, unable to speak for a moment. what do you say ? a roommate ? a stranger you’ve never seen in your life ? a devil straight from hell with the goal of killing himself and (or) taking your soul down to the underworld ? as soon as you open your mouth, dazai cuts you off.

“boyfriend.”

“excuse me ?”

“i’m their boyfriend.” dazai says naturally with a matter-of-fact tone, as if the question was asked multiple times before. your arms tense up and your feet are stuck to the ground, legs feeling like jelly as your eyes twitch again.

what ?

what ?!

feeling your face redden at his words, you wave your hands around to dismiss the thought, hands sweaty and your mouth dry.

“n- no ! we aren’t ! he’s just, ah, uhm— he’s just a roommate !”

“you’re breaking my heart here, babe ! i know you love me.” dazai teased, emphasizing the pet name and acting offended, poking your cheeks with a finger. you can feel eyes on you, your co-workers looking at you then at each other. how curious, they never saw you as the type to be dating someone, nonetheless, someone this handsome ..!!

“well, i bet you’re all lovely people, i’m sure of it. but [name] and i have a photo booth to be at and i really don’t wanna miss it.” charming himself out of the situation, dazai drag you along with his arms, not letting you say your goodbyes. walking down the busy church halls, you quietly scold dazai, gritting your teeth as you trip around the carpet now and then.

“are you fucking stupid ? you can’t just say that ! why did you say that ?!” if you could, you would’ve used both arms to stop the demon, give him a good slap and get your car keys out. though, the champagne glass in one hand stopped you from doing so, and … dazai was oddly quiet.

“are you listening to me ? dazai ?”

the demon stops walking, causing you to bump into his shoulder. the booth was unoccupied and empty as dazai unraveled the curtains and pushed you inside without another word.

“hey, what is up with you ?” grabbing you by the shoulders, dazai sat you down on the plush of the small bench after closing the curtains. something was off, you knew it better than anyone else.

“is it the suit ? or the food ? do you not like it ?” dazai sits beside you, not moving a muscle. his shoulders are slumped as he zones out into your words. your voice drops into a softer tone, placing a hand on his arm. “if you wanna go home, just lemme know—”

“it’s not— ” the demon cuts himself off, looking into your eyes with a expression you haven’t seen on him before. his gaze is softer than usual, and his mouth is slightly open, as if he was going to continue.

“it’s not any of that. you just, y’know.” dazai turns to the screen, reading the words and tapping things he shouldn’t. placing a hand on top of his, you set the camera ready as the demon leans back and watches you.

“i’m your demon, y’know that, right ?”

“yeah, one that’s trying to either kill himself or my soul.” you could hear dazai chuckle at your tease, nudging you with a knee before crossing them.

“sure, sure. but i can’t have a bitter soul when i do take it away. those humans were making it bitter and that wouldn’t be satisfying to take.”

you hum in response before lean back, shoulder to shoulder with dazai. you point at the camera with a smile.

“we’ll take three photos. there’s gonna be a copy for both you and me ..!” you smile at dazai as the screen counted down from five. for a moment, dazai felt his non-existent heart beat. as your head turns to the camera to put on a bright smile, the demons eyes don’t leave yours.

shit, he thinks. the flash of the first picture is bright and snaps him out of his trance. the world becomes a haze as your lips move, brows furrowed slightly as you point at dazai’s lips and the only word he follows is ‘smile.’

the screen countdowns again from five, and dazai’s stomach drops.

shit, his mind goes again. by the time the screen flashes one, dazai wraps his arms around your shoulders, laughing suddenly and the camera flashes. his cheek is pressed against yours as he smiles brightly, eyes slit into crescent smiles. the third photo counts down, and you don’t even realize. you complain to the demon not to scare you like that, and dazai lifts his hands up in surrender. the lights flash again. one more picture. dazai was sure he’d make this one count.

fixing your hair as you two wait for the next countdown, you can feel cold hands brushing smaller strands of hair behind your ear. you look up at dazai and his eyes are unusually tender, soft and radiant.

“can i kiss you ?”

“what ?”

“can i kiss you ?” dazai asks again, grinning gently as your face grows red, feeling your ears burn. your eyes are wide and you don’t respond, you can’t. speechless, your lips are cracked open as you try to say something, anything, but nothing comes out. the final countdown arises, and the demons face is closer to yours, more than ever. as the screen glows with the number one, dazai gently kisses the corner of your lips, long enough for the camera to capture and short enough to not make the situation any more awkward than it is.

his lips are tender and sweet, the opposite of what you expected it’d be. a little chapped, but less than you thought. the first thought in your mind was the question of if he was teasing you, but the way he gently pulled away with half lidded eyes and a soft smile, the back of your mind hoped he wasn’t teasing. and, oh gods, your lips tingle as you silently watch dazai pull out the pair of photos, lined up nicely and small enough to put in your phone case.

“how adorable ! you can see your red face here !” dazai looks at the photos and point at the last photo taken as his lips on the corner of yours, laughing and handing you a copy. you want to punch him, throw him on the ground and leave. but …

something bubbles inside of you as you chuckle along with the demon. the silence is filled with laughter with nothing specific as the topic. you both subconsciously think, ‘how long as it been since i’ve laughed this hard about something so stupid ?’

#bungo stray dogs #bsd #bungo stray dogs x reader #bsd x reader #bsd dazai #bungo stray dogs dazai #osamu dazai #dazai x reader #dazai x you #osamu dazai x reader #atlas writes !

[justmediocrewriting]

“Messy,” {r.z}

A/n: and the second installment of the dialogue prompts, this time featuring our beefy mosshead ;) this is only the second part, I’ve got 10 more to make, and I’m already having the time of my life. I hope you guys enjoy this one!

Warnings/tags: explicit sexual content, irrumatio, rough!zoro, lots of bodily fluids (spit, cum, juices, sweat, etc), deepthroating, dirty talk, explicit language, cock worship, d/s undertones, slight dumbification, outdoor sex, semi-public sex, Zoro really likes to pull hair, 100 follower NSFW dialogue prompt special

Genre: smut

Pairing: Zoro x fem!reader

Word Count: 1.2k

Prompt: “Don’t make a mess, baby.” (#2 on the list)

{{:================================:}}

“You’re so fuckin’ messy.”

Zoro’s statement from above you was punctuated by a stinging in your scalp when he used his grip in your hair as leverage to repeatedly fuck his cock deeper into your throat, spreading open the walls of your esophagus as if he didn’t care that you were on the brink of blacking out from poor oxygen intake. The chill of the evening air slightly cooled your heated skin, but it did nothing to douse the flame of arousal burning hot in your gut, and the fresh air didn’t clear the fog from your head either — it was impossible to think clearly or feel anything other than fiery arousal when Zoro was using you like this.

You moaned around his thick cock, eyes nearly rolling to the back of your head from the heady taste of salt in your mouth. Your nose was clogged with the scent of Zoro, so much so that the minute breaths you could pull through it were saturated with the scent of sweat and sword oil, a mixture that you had come to define as unique to the swordsman, and it was so mouthwatering, almost as much as the cock in your throat.

“You’re fuckin’ droolin’ all over my cock. You like it when I fuck your little throat like this?”

Zoro’s hips snapped at a rapid pace, the weight of his balls slapping against your chin as each rough thrust landed him buried to the hilt in your throat. The velocity of his thrusts left little room for recovery in between, your head already light and floaty from the deprivation of oxygen, so you barely even registered the fact that spittle and drool was currently being fucked out of your mouth and plopping down onto the deck. But Zoro noticed, and that visual combined with your glazed over eyes looking up at him as if his cock was the best thing you’d ever tasted, as well as the wet glide the copious amounts of liquid granted, sent him into a near-feral frenzy.

Zoro knew you couldn’t answer him, but his filthy questions never stopped, lips dropping a litany of abrasive verbal abuses as his pace never faltered, cock drilling into your mouth almost painfully.

“You were made for this, weren’t you? Made to take my cock down your fuckin’ throat.”

“Fuckin’ look at you. All fucked out just from this. I bet you’d love this cock in your pussy right now, wouldn’t you?”

“Fuckin’ take it, baby.”

Every single word rumbled by that deep voice sent heat flaring straight down to your core, your clit throbbing in time with your rapid heartbeat as your pussy clenched around nothing — Zoro’s comment about you wanting his thick cock in your pussy wasn’t too far off the mark. No matter how many times he fucked your holes they never truly adjusted to the stretch of his massive cock, the slight discomfort of it offering you a euphoria that previous partners had never managed to touch. Of course you’d love to have Zoro’s cock in your pussy… but this right now, the smooth glide of his cock across your tongue and the intrusion of his length in your throat… there was nothing that could beat that at the moment.

Zoro’s hips stuttered and his cock twitched on a particularly rough thrust, momentarily hardening even further within your mouth. Excitement and anticipation clawed up your spine, because you knew what that meant — Zoro was close, and soon enough he would be rewarding you with a stream of hot, salty cum straight down your throat.

“Fuck, your mouth is gonna make me fuckin’ cum. Fuckin’ touch yourself, baby. Rub that pretty pussy while I fuck your face.”

Your hand dropped down immediately to comply with Zoro's order, your pussy more than welcoming the touch when you shoved your fingers past the confines of your panties and promptly shoved two of your fingers inside. They slid in without any resistance, your walls wet and mushy from arousal, and you set a rapid pace to match with Zoro’s. It wasn’t the same as Zoro’s cock, but the stimulation of your mouth and cunt being filled cinched your gut with hot arousal, and with just a few well timed curls that familiar coil formed.

The deck became home to a symphony of muffled moans, grunts, squelching and filthy curses, orchestrated by the act Zoro and yourself were partaking in — there was a risk that came with this, one that would be hard to recover from, as anyone could walk out at any point to find Zoro’s cock buried in your throat. But somehow, that risk only made the coil wind tighter, the edge of danger adding an enticing amount of lewdness to everything.

Zoro’s words faded into mere grunts and groans, and his thrusts became even faster, sloppier, his hand in your hair tightening and moving your head in a contrasting rhythm than that of his hips — he was close, his cock throbbing and twitching with every rough thrust into your throat, and you pulled your fingers out of your cunt to harshly rub your clit with as much velocity as you could muster within the confines of your pants and underwear. You wanted to cum when Zoro did, so you could feel that euphoria of an orgasm at the same time.

“Fuck, fuck, here it comes. Don’t make a mess, baby; swallow every fuckin’ drop.” Zoro growled, hips reaching a peak speed before slowing to a near stop, your nose pressed into the pubic hair just above Zoro’s cock as he buried himself as deep as possible.

Your throat constricted around his cock as you gagged, your brain screaming at you to pull back as your ability to breathe was stolen from you, but Zoro held your head in place with a firm hand as his cock twitched once, twice, then throbbed heavily as ropes of cum splashed against the walls of your throat.

“Shit,” Zoro breathed, the curse being dragged out and completely drenched with pleasure. “Fuckin’ — yes, fuck, take it all.”

Zoro’s hips moved in small thrusts as he rode out the rest of his orgasm, saltiness bursting over your tongue as droplets of his spent smeared over it with each little buck. You drank down the remnants fervently, sore throat constricting pleasantly with every swallow, and when Zoro pulled his cock out and demanded you to open so he could make sure you swallowed everything, you did so without hesitation.

“Fuck, that’s my good girl. Did you cum, baby?” Zoro ground out, his dick beginning to soften slightly in the aftermath of his orgasm.

With a start you realized that no, you hadn’t. You’d been so wrapped up in the sensation of Zoro’s come sliding down your throat that your fingers had completely stopped moving. You gave a small shake of your head. Zoro reached a hand down and stroked his thumb over your lips, his own quirking up into a devilish smirk.

“We’ll have to fix that baby. You did so good, and you deserve a reward. Get on your fuckin’ hands and knees and let me fuck you ‘til you can’t take it anymore.”

{{:================================:}}

I probably should have clarified this in the first installment of the series, but these prompts won’t be written/posted in numerical order. My brain does really have the focus to do it that way, so whichever prompt offers me the most motivation is the one I’m going to write. I hope you all enjoyed this one, because I sure did ;))

#opla #opla x reader #one piece live action #opla zoro #opla zoro x reader

[momodita]

snapshots. [—dazai osamu]

TAGS / WARNINGS: male reader, specific clothing (suit),       dazai being dazai, barely suggestive WC: 1,000 NOTE: even though this was written with male       readers in mind, there are no pronouns       used and can read as gender neutral!

✗ MINORS / AGELESS / BLANK BLOGS DNI.

“Need some help?”

You muffle the swear, but not the pained noise that escapes as your leg smacks the counter. Teeth clenched, you hunch over the sink, clutching your throbbing knee before gathering yourself to glare at the intruder.

“Where’s Atsushi.”

“Surprised?” Dazai trills, volume surprisingly controlled for how loud you know him to be. His lofty hum echoes—you grimace as he fills the precious little space left in the bathroom. “Atsushi-kun got sent on an assignment. He’ll be gone for a while.”

“And he entrusted you to help me instead?” you snark, a touch mean knowing the thickness of his skin. Turning your back on him never feels safe—at least with the mirror, you’re not completely vulnerable. “I would’ve thought he’d ask someone a little more reliable. Like Kunikida-san.”

“Oh! You wound me!” Dazai exclaims, hand flying up to press against his forehead. He saunters forward with a dramatic lean. “And here I thought you might need me to lend you a hand,” he says, flourishes with a grin, gaze lingering meaningfully on your tie.

Your nose wrinkles. “No thanks.”

Dazai merely tuts—undeterred by the blatant dismissal—leaning on the counter to watch you fumble.

“If it were Kunikida-kun here,” he says, low and amused, stoking the burn of irritation at the back of your throat, “He would’ve made you start over. In seiza to boot.”

You shudder imagining it. “No one will notice if it’s bad. It’s just a stupid tie.” The excuse doesn’t burn nearly as much as his huffing laugh, something quiet that makes the muscle under your eye twitch. Maybe you should forgo the tie, after all.

“Now, now, don’t say that,” he sings—gleeful, like he’s sitting on the punchline of a joke. “It won’t take long.” His hand opens for you, expectant. “Besides,” Dazai says, “seems like you really want this meeting to go well.” He speaks plainly enough, but you’ve no confidence to decipher any double entendre while operating under several layers yourself.

Against the sticky apprehension licking your ribs, you let him: slipping the tie from your shoulders and lowering it onto his palm. Not for the first time, his presence raises the fine hairs on your nape.

He’s an indomitable presence behind you. You’re sure he can’t see the goosebumps erupting along your arms, but the little quiet chuckle by your ear makes you think he knows of their existence.

Dazai lays the tie across your nape. Drapes it down your front and adjusts the two ends with an impish, plucking touch. You watch his hands in the mirror. It occurs to you, now, that as you are—trapped between him and his mirror image—there’s nowhere to run. In the silence, your mouth purses, twitching with the pressure to break the tension—anything to release the buzz of adrenaline clogging your throat.

“Don’t tie it too tight,” you say haltingly, blood rushing to your face. “I’ll choke.”

Dazai, humming, merely smiles. You watch his eyes narrow with it in the mirror, how he loops and pulls and twists the fabric—almost mesmerized by the knot coming neatly together in his fingers: long and pale—a sharp contrast to the matte black of your suit and dress shirt.

His expression drops as he works. It’s a rare moment where it holds no fallacies, no comedic lilt of his brow or mouth. Your chin twitches when he wiggles the knot to a tight finish, uses both hands to slide it up against the base of your throat.

You swallow, then—not meaning to—and drop your eyes to the faucet. Dazai drags the tie between his fingers, smoothing the fabric with a slow motion of his arm. You can’t stop the tightness in your chest—as if his hands were sliding all over you.

“Dazai-san.” His name gets pulled from your throat like teeth, hand twitching, wanting to snatch the tie from his fingers. His presence is a weight on your shoulders—heat at your back, crawling up your throat all the way down your calves, the tips of your fingers, as you tease the idea of shoving him away. Forcibly relaxing your aching jaw.

Your eyes dart up to meet his in the mirror. It’s a mistake. For one dizzying breath, his head tips—just a fraction, small enough that you blink and are no long sure it even happened—and the gleam in his eyes is gone, swallowed by the shadow of his fringe. You don’t need the subtle press of his thumb to know your skin has gone clammy.

But then he blinks, and the moment passes. He splays his hands out as if revealing a surprise, grin full of teeth.

“See? Not too bad, wouldn’t you agree? Kunikida-kun would’ve had you make one hundred knots.” Despite the obvious playfulness of his voice, it does little to quell the blood rushing in your ears. His hands descend upon your shoulders, a gesture somehow more threatening than when his fingers had been kissing distance from your throat. “And his lectures take forever.”

“Aren’t you just saying that because you’re the one he lectures the most?” you ask. “That’s why no one takes you seriously, Dazai-san.”

His eyes narrow with a smile—the familiar stretch of it triggering your flight impulse. You manually reset your footing to rid yourself of the feeling.

“Maybe they should,” he suggests, and reaches for your throat. Your blood freezes, but all he does is flip down your collar, tucking the tie under the starched fabric. “I’m quite the hidden gem.”

Muffled laughter outside the door is just the remedy you need to reset.

“How egotistical of you,” you reply flatly, and sigh. “Are you done?”

“Of course, of course.” Dazai waves. “Safe travels.”

“Thanks,” you mumble. He ducks out of the bathroom to engage with Kunikida, putting himself directly into the blond’s verbal line of fire.

And you, alone, dip fingers inside your suit pocket to find a familiar plastic lump.

#dazai osamu x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs fic #bsd x reader #bsd fic #reader insert #snapshot fic #male reader #sorry for the character to those who are #unfamiliar w bsd SJKDHFKHSJ #also this fic could've so easily turned into nsft but i was GOOD and i RESTRAINED MYSELF #momodita fic

[readershewrites]

show me what mercy feels like

As someone who struggles deeply with body image and self-talk, I wrote this to fulfil my longing to be seen and be treated with fierce love. Deeply inspired by the works of @kneelingshadowsalome​. Specifically “Love Is A Heavy Weapon”, her sequel to “Man-Sized”, and her recent drabble also dealing with body image.

Pairing: Simon Ghost Riley x f!OC

Tags: Explicit sex, light LIGHT choking I guess, passionate sex, body image, mirror sex, tongue-licking, a smidge of knife-play, a waft of dom Simon

Trigger Warnings: OC is struggling with body dysmorphia/body image

She’s used to these feelings. They’ve come and gone intermittently through her life - beginning in teenagehood and lasting until now, so she’s become accustomed to the routine. Rumination, despair, rebirth. The endless cycle, never triggered by the same thing, never predictable.

This week is about the fourth or so day of these feelings. Her jeans feel different, her shirts and blouses feel different, and it’s not so disastrous as to enact any drastic change yet she feels burdened by the weight of the feelings and disheartened by the oncoming storm.

Loving herself has always been a conscious effort, and like most people there are dips and troughs as well as highs. Often the highs are brought with or by her lover, Simon. She was on her way to self-acceptance and self-compassion when he stepped into her life, and proceeded to shove her face-first into a sea of love and feeling so deep she felt like she had never been alive before him.

Simon loves her well, and she is sure of that.

But her feelings towards herself are distinct, and today she really can’t shake her sadness no matter how much she is in need of it.

This morning she stands a moment longer in front of the mirror, dismayed by what she sees. Her heart constricts when she thinks of the beautiful woman she walked by the evening before, resplendent in velvet and dripping contentment. She wipes a tear from the corner of her eye before it can fully form, and quickly looks away.

She opens the bathroom door and there is Simon, sitting on the side of the bed, knees parted widely and hands resting on his thick thighs. His dark, observant eyes are already watching her when she raises her eyes, and the moment their gazes meet she is undone.

Her eyebrows pinch as the hot sting of tears burns her eyes, and Simon sucks a deep breath in. He sits still, hands betraying tension in the fingers pressed firmly against his knees, and only releases his grip when she dives into his body.

She doesn’t really sob, but the ache is deep and well rooted in her soul.

“Talk to me.” Simon’s gravelly voice rumbles through her last defenses and she trembles slightly as a few tears slip down her face.

She presses herself harder into him, and he receives it all.

“I just-... I just can’t bear the way I look sometimes. I don’t like the way I look, I don’t understand the way I look, and I’m tired of fighting to keep positive about it.” She squeezes her eyes firmly shut as the exhaustion hits her.

“I don’t want to accept my body as it is. I don’t care about gratitude and compassion and all that stuff and yeah I know it’s right and good and all that stuff but I hate that I have to put the work in to like a body that doesn’t look good. I just hate it so much! I hate that I look like this.”

Her voice shakes terribly and her nose is clogged up with snot and emotion, but Simon is steadfast. This is what she loves about him - he asks for all that she thinks and is never critical of how cruel she can be.

“I don’t want other people to tell me I look good because I don’t believe them and I never have and I worry that I never will. I worry that people are lying when they say I look nice and I hate that I can never take a compliment and I hate that I’m too insecure to be gracious and above all I hate that I look like this!”

Simon readjusts his grip on her, one thick arm wrapped tightly around her torso and the other fiercely clutching her head to his chest.

“I don’t want to have to consider what colours suit me, what stupid body type I am, what glasses or haircut or– or– or what length my dresses should be. I just want to wear what other people wear and look like they do.”

She’s done, and she has a headache. She has aired her grievances and shown him her valley of sorrow, but in the wake feels defeated and tired.

Nevertheless, the cycle is familiar to her and she knows Simon will be there. He is her lighthouse when she is at sea.

She lifts her head from his neck and sees his shimmering, pained eyes staring back at her. Wordless and strong, he draws her into a kiss full of intent with his dry, warm palm resting firmly at the base of her throat.

“Go to work,” he murmurs, eyes tracing over the shape of her lips. She wills herself to stay still though she feels nude under his stare. “We will recalibrate tonight.”

She gives him a nod, throat still under loving hostage, and pulls away.

-

As she pulls open the front door and toes her shoes off, she meditates over how the day has gone. She had tried not to let her mood affect her work, but had nevertheless been more withdrawn than usual. She was grateful for having two excellent friends at work who knew her propensity for turning inwards and were kind and warm but not intrusive.

Padding steadily to the bedroom, she feels the familiar mix of nervousness and anticipation waiting for her.

“Recalibration” is to Simon a sort of potent mixture of sex and therapy. Every time she has a wobbly moment he takes her apart piece by piece and guides her into the recesses of feeling that she is afraid of. He shows her that they may be her demons but that they exist in a corner of fear and loneliness that he won’t let her get lost in.

Even so, even after all the times he has done this with her, she is afraid.

But she trusts him to guide her ahead with his sober seriousness and unflinching determination to love her.

She opens the bedroom door and there he is, sitting in the same position as this morning but facing the door.

She looks to the wall opposite their bed and sees that he’s moved the large gilded mirror that normally resides above their fireplace to rest against the wall. From the angle she’s at she can’t quite see the reflection, but knowing how directly she will see her nakedness sparks a kindling of stress in her.

“Come ‘ere.”

Simon beckons her with his hand and her feet move without her even knowing it.

He reaches for her once she is in his space and lifts her so that she is straddling his wide hips.

“Si–”

He hushes her with a squeeze of her thigh. “How do you tell me you’re okay?”

Her mouth dries and her underwear grows damp. “Two taps.”

“And your safeword?”

“Apple.”

Simon’s hand travels from her thigh to the crease where it meets her hip.

“Are you ready?”

She nods firmly, gaze still locked on him.

“Good girl. I love you.”

Her eyes prick with tears and the sight of her wet eyes, Simon’s own turn hard.

Her cunt clenches at the way he regards her now. Soft, sympathetic Simon is gone. This version of him is determined, relentless, and dominating.

“I’m going to take your clothes off,” he says, finally dropping his eyes to her chest where her nipples have pebbled to hard, sensitive points.

He releases her thigh and methodically unbuttons her blouse, taking it off and dropping it to the ground as his focus turns to her singlet. He draws a calloused finger along the line of her throat, traces the mole he loves to bite, and slowly drags it down to circle her right nipple.

She releases her breath - not having realised she was holding it - and watches the seriousness of his brow as he leans close and licks the light shape of her hard nipple over her bra and shirt.

At first he’s gentle, kissing it and licking it as though it were the first time, but then his arms are at her back and pushing her into him and all of a sudden he is biting ravenously at her nipple and wetting her tank top and holy fuck she can feel his saliva through the thick cotton of her bra.

Her heart is thundering at her chest and she desperately wants to feel his tongue on the skin of her breast, but the rule is that tonight is for Simon to enjoy her body so she allows it to continue, all the while aware of the growing warmth and wetness of her crotch.’

Pulling back ever so briefly, Simon is breathing hard and releases an arm from its grip around her to pull the strap off of her right shoulder and gently pulls her breast out. She looks down and he is staring right at her, staring staring staring as he takes her nipple between his teeth and rolls it.

She can’t help the whine that leaves her lips, and the moan that shatters the air when he pushes a small amount of spit just over her nipple and then closes his mouth over it and sucks.

Her cheeks are hot and her heart is pounding furiously and Simon still hasn’t broken his penetrating stare. He reaches for the other strap with his other hand and pulls it down and her left breast is engulfed by his hot hand and she begins to rock over his crotch as he continues with the agonisingly slow pace of his suckling.

She registers distantly that he is hard, but focuses on burning the image of him at her chest into her brain.

A moment passes, and Simon reaches behind him. She looks and he has a combat knife in his hand, and brings them to the front of her shirt. The cool blade glides lightly against her skin and they both watch in fascination as her skin erupts in goosebumps.

Hand confidently gripping the handle, Simon turns the blade to lie flat against her skin and slides it under her bra and the bunched up top. He pulls the knife towards his own chest, then turns the blade and slides it up and down only a few times until the material gives way and her chest is exposed and they can both watch her breasts move up and down from the thrill.

She complies as Simon peels the cut cloth from her body, lifting her arms obediently, then settles her hand in his thick, rough hair.

Simon lifts her slightly so that she is holding her own weight above him, and curves his right knuckle as though he is holding a pen. Then he presses his hand against her crotch, adds pressure and languidly strokes back and forth against her.

She leans forward to kiss him, but he pulls away with a grunt.

“Tongue out.”

She sticks it out, panting slowly but deeply. Simon’s eyes twinkle darkly as he leans forward to lick her tongue with his, and she just about ascends to heaven.

He brings her back down with a shockingly firm hand clutching her throat, and she blinks furiously at him, tongue still out and heart racing wildly.

Simon ignores her surprise and licks her tongue twice more before leaning in, enclosing his mouth over her tongue and sucking hard.

She squeals at the sensation and her thighs quiver dramatically.

He chuckles lowly and she is - for a brief moment - embarrassed, but is distracted by him unbuttoning her jeans.

“Take these off,” he says, “then get down in front of the mirror.”

She clumsily shuffles off his lap, looking longingly at the bulge in his pants, but obeys.

She wriggles out of her jeans and slides her underwear off, but stops short of turning to the mirror. Simon watches her carefully in the middle of taking off his own clothes, thick and scarred chest moving in motion with his breath. She stays facing him even as he takes his own trousers and pants off, his juicy cock bouncing, pink and wet.

“Love.”

Lowering her gaze, she turns to the mirror and kneels. She doesn’t want to see herself. Then, she leans forwards onto her hands and stares right at the rug under her palms. Seeing, but also not seeing the pattern she had chosen for their room.

Simon’s hands settle on her shoulders then bring her back to her knees and she meets his burning gaze in the mirror with difficulty.

His erection is pressing hotly against her back, but she’s not sure anymore whether the goosebumps are from arousal or discomfort. She stubbornly locks eyes with him and thinks, I don’t want to look at this.

Simon’s nostrils flare and there’s just a beat of silence before his big hands flex and then his right hand settles haphazardly over a breast and the other at her belly and then they both grab, hard.

The action takes her breath away and her eyes blow wide before he growls lowly, “I want to always be able to grab handfuls of you.”

With a firm knee he nudges hers apart and pushes his forwards until her crotch is sitting back against his thigh.

Like the good girl she is, she begins to rock, and Simon grunts approvingly. The hand at her belly relaxes, only to reposition slightly and grab her tummy again. The hand at her chest slides to pinch her nipple and yep she is definitely back at full arousal and can’t help the wail that leaves her when he yet again opens his mouth to let warm glob of spit drip down her chest.

He tucks his head into her neck and bites down firmly before using his hand to smear his spit along the skin of her breast.

“I want to always be able to bite you.”

She closes her eyes and lets out a sob of want.

He uses his hands to push her down harder against his knee. She tries desperately to angle her hips so that something will touch her clit, but he holds her steady. This is just the beginning.

“I want you sticky and wet and naked.”

He abruptly releases her and she lets out a sharp yelp and catches herself with her palms before she can face-plant. She finds him smirking at her in the mirror. Mouth twisted and teasing but eyes knowing and warm.

Back on your knees.

Behind her Simon pumps his pulsing cock with his right hand, reaching down slightly to collect her juices and then smearing the warm wetness over his cock and even down to his balls.

She lowers herself slightly by bending her elbows so she can watch the delicious scene. Her bear of a man. Palming himself over her spread legs. The thrill that she gets from watching him stare at her puffy and ripe cunt is the definition of addiction.

He leans forward slightly and guides the head to her opening, and she sighs in relief. Simon is silent, but the sweat beading at his forehead and the shine of his chest reveals the strain on him.

He pushes in slowly, drawing it out to the point where she wants to scream. She lets out a weak whine and rests her head on the ground.

“No.”

A hand fists her hair and pulls back on it. She gasps as her head is wrenched back so that she is once again staring at her own blown pupils, wet chest and red face.

“You’re gonna watch today,” Simon says, buried to the hilt but also totally still, “Don’t care if ya watch me or yourself, but don’t even fuckin’ think of taking those beautiful eyes off the mirror, ‘kay love?”

“Okay”, she chokes out.

“Mmph.”

Pleased, he pulls out slowly and then pushes back in.

She can feel his cock all the way up in her throat. Each measured thrust punches the breath from her lungs stops time for just a second before he grants her peace and pulls out.

But the pace he sets can’t be called peace at all. In fact, he isn’t even quicking at all.

“Si,” she says, fingertips turning white as she grips the carpet.

“Si,” she chants as he smiles and tightens his fist in her hair.

“Si,” she sobs as he runs a covetous hand down her sweaty back.

“Please…”

“Don’t think so,” he laughs, relishing in his power.

“Fuckin’ hell love,” he says, “wish you could see the view I’ve got ‘ere.”

She closes her eyes at the sweet torture just for a moment–

SMACK!

She shrieks and clenches down furiously on his hot cock.

“You’re so fuckin’ wet you’re creamin’ on me. Fuuuuuuck, darlin’.”

The tremor in her belly spreads to her thighs, and she can’t bear that he’s talking such sweet words when he won’t. let. her. come!

A dark chuckle bounces from Simon and reaches her burning ears. Her looks up wetly at her lover and cries quietly as he slips out from her completely.

Simon ignores her tears and pulls her torso up and against his chest. They’re breathing heavily and out of sync, and both of them are shaking slightly from the tension of a drawn-out fuck.

Simon then manoeuvres his right leg so that his foot is planted on the carpet and his knee is facing the mirror, then he drags her shaking right leg to drape over his and nestles her close to him. She can feel his pubic hair pressing against her ass and the right side of her body is slightly compacted by the position, but she knows this is going to be a delicious experience.

He wraps his left arm around her body and waits for her to dig her hands into his muscular forearm for support. It’s a challenging position as they’re both balancing their weight on their left sides, and he’s got her right leg propped up on his, but they both can’t resist watching the way it spreads her cunt wide open.

He especially eagerly watches the way her juices slide down her left thigh. He dips a hand to catch the drip and sucks loudly at his fingers.

“Put me in.” He commands.

She enthusiastically complies and he allows her to tilt forward slightly until he notches in at the right angle and slides smoothly into her tight cunt.

His right hand smooths lovingly over her thigh as his eyes bores into hers.

“Here we go love.” He warns, and then begins their carnal dance.

He pulls his fat cock from her walls and then generously shoves it back in, watching as her thighs flex and the cries begin yet again.

She is clawing at his forearm, unable to stop watching his beautiful manhood make use of her the only way she wants to be used.

Distantly she looks at the rolls of flesh on her right side and is momentarily distracted and disturbed by the observation, but, as astute as ever, Simon notices immediately and his lustful, loving monologue begins.

“Look at you, fuckin’ hating yourself like that.”

He slams his hips into her with extra frustration.

She weeps.

“This body was made to love like this, can’t you see?”

His right hand grazes over her clit and she yells out in pleasure and frustration when he moves away.

“No one else can take me like this.”

His hand grabs her jaw so their mirror-gaze breaks and she has her neck twisted to look up and behind at him.

The proximity forces her to flutter around him, and Simon ups the pace.

“I fuckin’ love you. You know that?”

“I luh–”

“Uh-uh” he commands, and she shuts her mouth. “I’m talking.”

Her eyes leak tears and her cheeks are just as wet as her cunt. Small squeaks come out her mouth at every push of his hips.

“You make my life.” He grunts, mashing his lips against hers. She warbles against his mouth and her entire body clenches.

Simon wrenches his head from hers and then forces her back to face the mirror. The speed is more frenzied, and there’s no containing her volume now.

“Ah–ah—-hah!... Si! Yes!”

He grabs her right hand, intertwining their fingers, and leads her down to her clit. He ensures that both their hands are touching her engorged, sensitive nub and begins to furiously work it.

“Uh- yes!” 

“Fuckin’ sick of you hating yourself like you don’t have me wrapped around your finger.”

“Ohhhh! Uh–uh—uhh— yessss please Simon,” she sobs, crying and crying but still looking directly at him, “Please. Please!”

“You don’t know how much I want you always.” He huffs, pace manic. He doesn’t even know what he’s saying anymore.

“I want to be in you all the time. This cunt is heaven.”

She’s close, and he’s right behind her.

Refusing to lose control, Simon lowers them to the carpet as carefully as he can manage. Her breasts and his arm are pressed against the rough jute material and he waits a moment to release her right leg to the ground and allows her to shift her left to a more comfortable sprawl.

This fucked iteration of the froggy position is tight on her legs and more than a tad uncomfortable, but at this rate she’d rather die than complain.

He brings their intertwined hands back to her clit, brushing lightly against it to test her readiness and at her cry of please please don’t stop Simon licks his lips and resumes his relentless drilling.

“Your body is my endless heaven. You are my dream. You are my dream.”

He repeats the second time with fluttering eyes and she cries unabashedly into the carpet, mouth open and drool and tears and sweat dripping onto the floor.

“I’m coming! Si I’m coming I’m co--”

Her scream almost drowns him out, but she feels his words against her neck anyway.

“You make me want things. A fuckin’ baby, your belly huge and tits full of milk and fuckin’ soft everywhere.”

The mental image is so horrifyingly clear in his head that Simon is hurtled into his own orgasm, his speech ripped in half by a loud moan. His grunting accompanies hers as she bucks and wails and thrashes beneath him, milking him to the point of near-madness.

Her left ear is ringing and the ache in her hips is more than a little painful, but by the time their highs are over she’s a mess underneath him, and sobbing openly into the carpet. This has been by far the most visceral ‘recalibration’ they’ve ever had, and her heartache has more than been met by intimacy and affection.

She feels such grief and sadness but the feelings are crushed by waves of love so fierce she can’t do anything but weep.

Above her, Simon shifts and smooths a hand down her sweaty back.

“Shhhh,” he whispers against her sweaty head. He repeats it over and over as she expels her anguish and is overcome with lust, adoration, feeling.

“I’m here. I’m here.”

#Simon Ghost Riley x OC #Simon Ghost Riley #COD MW2 #Simon Ghost Riley smut #Simon Ghost Riley angst #Simon Ghost Riley fluff

[queenofallimagines]

Hiori yo x black reader

(A/N): was literally complaining bc like how is he black but there’s NO black readers??? But I found out who’s clogging up the blue lock tag😒And then I realized I can do it my fucking self lmao. HC him as Nigerian bc like we’re never gunna get any cultural background info on him bc they never tell us about the parents(unless it’s central to their backstory and even then they’re the main characters not their parents.) so I’m making up my own lore✨ his dad is Nigerian who immigrated to Japan and hiori very rarely sees his dads side of the family bc they live elsewhere and his parents don’t care about him knowing family he’s supposed to be their trophy

Hiori yo:

- okay so boom

- This happens in his blue lock era obviously

- His parents rarely let him play w kids bc he was always training if you peep in the manga

- Only has some idea of some form of cultural heritage

- He was blessed cursed with only his mothers genetics so looking more like her has him skirt around a lot of that racism

- He probably makes friends with all the other mixed kids but gets viscerally uncomfortable when he sees them getting micro-aggressed

- Makes him think twice about showing up to school with his hair not styled like his mom

- Spends 90% of his time gaming anyway so like he doesn’t have to go outside

- When he runs away to blue lock life starts to have color

- I think post U-20 arc he spends those two weeks at home hanging out with karasu because he’s not gunna let him sit inside and rot around his shitty parents for two weeks

- Karasu definitely introduces you to him

- You were one of his friends from school he used to chill with and he’s like you would be good for hiori

- Karasu 100% condones your bad influence like lmao he wants to see hiori be a MENACE to society

- He’s smirking in the background as you bring his inner ultra sadist out

- He messes up your hair and will laugh when you get mad

- “stoooop iiiiit you’re messing up my hair!”

- “aww does the princess not like their hair being touched?”

- “Not when I took a long time to do it this morning!”

- Will immediately get flustered if you say you like his hair

- hide the flat iron from him!!

- I feel like he’s lowkey insecure about usually being like the only black kid in the room

- And he speaks in a different accent than a lot of them?

- Yeah pack it up!

- *he doesn’t really think much of his appearance. he thinks he looks okay and he isn’t really confident about his skin complexion. he isn’t dark skin but he isn’t light skin either.*

- His chat Ai gave me that unprompted so it’s canon now sorry :/

- Yknow how boys will say the most traumatic shit out of nowhere?

- “do you really think that I’m pretty? even my skin complexion and everything?”

- “I sure do! Anyone who says differently is a colorist racist loser . There’s nothing wrong with you or your completion. Like you’re one of the only people who made me feel welcomed here are you fr?”

- Karasu is glaring at you though for having him make pale people jokes.

- He’s very lowkey about how snake like he is so he’s the “you can’t say that shit in public!” Friend, while you don’t care about getting cancelled😭

- “but please don’t let anyone the shade of printer paper make you feel bad about your melanin beloved.”

- “The snow roaches are usually too scared to try something because I’m tall:/“

- “WE ARE IN A CONNIVENCE STORE PEOPLE CAN HEAR YALL”

- he’s trying his best really but he’s just one crow😔

- Don’t let tea about his parents make it back to your ears bc it’s really on sight for that man AND that snow bunny 😡

- “Does your dad ever like talk to you about his culture?? does he say anything outside of trying to make you into some star striker??”

- Mf just shrugs his shoulders.

- “not really. my parents don’t care about anything other than my success. they don’t care about my happiness or how i feel..”

- “Yo, baby ….. imma beat your parents ass😐 is your dad Nigerian? Bc that feels like textbook immigrant parent behavior.“

- “……. I REALLY don’t like how you knew that.”

- “My next guess would have been Guyanese.”

- Hes giggling tho bc I don’t think he really talked shit about his parents w nobody like REALLY really

- Just watching them fight 24/7 as a kid took a toll on my poor baby soul IK

- Spoiler for his backstory but I mean not really??

- His parents saying that if he didn’t become the best they would get a divorce made my jaw hit the stairs of hell

- ““you really know a lot about this kinda stuff?,,,,but yeah, nigerian parents are hella strict. they expect high grades from us and if we don’t reach those high grades, we’re basically disowned..”

- See me personally I have tattoos, colored hair and piercings and my mom fresh off the banana boat carribean

- “Like Dr umar said “you will be never get freedom unless you take it” It’s like a hostage situation!”

- “Is that how you have them long ass acrylics?”

- “….I took it😙”

- He will never bring you home bc you’re always 5 mins from punching his mom in the mouth and he really cannot handle that especially when he’s gone 24/7 in blue lock and can’t talk to you

- They don’t know you but know you’re a bad influence so they hate you from afar

- Very pro “traumatize your parents back” and karasu right there w you

- He’ll he can even scoop up yukumiya to be on demon time👀

- “hit em with the “what if I stop soccer?” And they have nowhere to run but just sit there seething because they need you.”

- “Right the cards are in your hands.”

- “…..Respectfully love, you’re a whole ass delinquent and karasu you’re a scammer. I’m not taking advice from people with active warrants😐”

- Now back on my bullshit

- He be so fine when he use metavision

- Like he knows that if he glances over at you during one of his games he’s gunna find you squirming in your seat

- Looks at you after he scores a goal every time and flashes you that shit eating grin

- Win or loose he’s getting his dick wet!!

- Have a safe word

- He’s never gunna try to push you past your limits in a way that will hurt you

- Buuuuut he is pretty mean

- Imagine that cute innocent looking face smiling down at you with his round doe eyes

- Calling you a dumb slut

- Man is a menace and probably gets a higher sex drive the more he fucks

- Not even out of like lust overtaking him he just will be randomly thinking about how he had you on your knees in this very locker room before

- And now feels the strong urge to split you open on his cock

- It’s fun for him like a game

- And he always wins

- Only way you can get him is to outsmart him but like that’s once in a blue moon so good luck Charlie😅

- Mans is 6”1 so he’s effortlessly manhandling you and giggling at how much your body is screaming for him

- “Shit, ya keep squeezing me like that and I won’t be able to pull out.”

- Again because he dosent have a high libido as a carnal thing certain NORMAL shit will set him off

- Like you was talking about the weather now he has you bent over the couch??

- Nicknames would be one

- You call him blueberry and he’s ready to go

- The cute look on your face and the smile he can see that’s reserved for him

- The way he can same the hearts in your eyes when you look at him

- He wants to ruin you and make you cry

- Edging is his go too thing

- Will do it until your grabbing at his hands begging him to let you come and he’s laughing his ass off

- “Why? ‘S real funny seeing you this pathetic.”

- He’s very mean in that soft sweet condescending way that pisses you off

- “Ow! Yo that hurt!”

- “Mmm, don’t care.”

- Bites you all over like you’re a chew toy

- Feel like he’s tied with rin and shidou for leaving marks

- He’s a cheeky little bastard so he will have you in public looking like a mess and he couldn’t be more innocent standing right next to you

- “You good?”

- “Yeah,karasu I’m fine.”

- “You sure because you’re limping right now.”

- And this fucker is there like ☺️☺️☺️

- Weakness is distracting him while gaming

- He’s very whiney if you suck him off while he’s gaming and has vc on

- Like he’s barely holding back his whimpers and wines as you’re head is buried between his thighs

- (Rin , nagi and him def game like I know they play Minecraft together)

- “Oi, hiori you okay? You’ve been pretty quiet.”

- “M good.”

- He is fighting for his sanity!!

- Has locked the door a few times to keep you out

- Accidentally left the mic on when he thought the coast was clear and came HARD

- Rin will never EVER bring that shit up and is taking that secret to the grave

- Does get flustered when he sees you and hiori not-so-subtly sneaking off to have your hands all over each other

- Keeps that memory square in the back of his head to jack off to

- Hiori Yo is a very sadistic man with a lot of confidence

- So he has absolutely no qualms about fucking you in front of his teammates in the locker room

- Oh, the team walked in on him blowing your back out? Nothing is stoping them from showering and changing

- Shares you with isagi like that’s just what happens

- He wants to see the egoist be mean to you

- This has happened more than once and bastard München straight up knows if he’s nowhere to be found when they are heading back to the locker rooms

- He’s in there making you cry on his cock

- “Cmon, tell em how much you like creaming around my cock dollface.”

- Particularly of Kaiser is kicking attitude he’ll glare at him while you’re on your knees and dare him to try something

- Oh he don’t care about doing it in the pxg locker rooms either

- Shidou has unfortunately walked in on him sitting beside you on the ground pushing your head down so you can take Rin’s cock even deeper

- “Ne, Rin-Chan. Look at how I can see you in their throat.”

- Hiori if anything isn’t going to play by the rules or be fair about it

#my writing #x black reader #blue lock x black reader #blue lock smut #blue lock scenarios #blue lock imagines #blue lock #bllk smut #bllk x reader #bllk imagines #hiori yo #hiori yo smut #hiori yo x reader #hiori yo x black reader #let’s get the ball rolling now #bc I’m going into the tag and I see one mf that’s always at the top of the recent #w the same shit #like it’s okay but kinda feels very written by a 13 year old ya feel me? #anyway I want to see actual good writers fill up the blue lock tag #yall be writing the most bomb shit!! #like why am i seeing this tired ass Au over the isagi humiliation breeding kink Fics? #be so the fuck fr 😭 #this feels like my longest ever too👀

[hotvintagepoll]

Welcome to the HOT AND VINTAGE MOVIE STARS tournament! We are now finished with the Hot & Vintage Men Tournament; The Hot & Vintage Movie Women Tournament is ongoing. Submissions for hot vintage women are now closed, but we are accepting propaganda for those already in the bracket.

Round 4 of the Hot & Vintage Women Tournament will be posted Friday, April 19th. All polls—including ongoing polls, previous rounds, old tournaments, the various shadow brackets, and fun mini polls—can be found in the #hotvintagepoll tag. Every poll in the Hot & Vintage Women Tournament will be tagged with the hottie in it if you need to search for someone in particular. If you would just like to look at the polls in Round 4 of the Hot & Vintage Women Tournament, click this.

FAQs:

“Where is [my favorite hot woman]?” It depends. Have you checked all the polls in the tag? Have you done a tag search for her? If you still haven’t found her, either nobody submitted her or she did not fit the criteria of being a movie woman from 1910-1970.

“Can I still submit hot women?” No, the submission window has closed. Please do not send in women you wish had made it into the bracket. I can’t do anything with those asks and they just make me sad.

“I have additional propaganda for the hot women!” Great! Send me an ask or reblog the poll and add your propaganda to it. You can also tag me in posts (this is the best way to submit gifsets or fancams). I don’t boost all the propaganda I see or receive, but I try to boost the best of the best.

If you’re submitting propaganda for your hot woman, I don’t accept propaganda that’s from beyond the end of this tournament’s era (ie don’t send me pics of them from before 1910 or after 1970). I also don’t accept propaganda of TV appearances unless it’s clearly a cameo where they’re playing themselves. Please break long asks full of photos up into a few short ones so I don't clog everyone's dashes. I watch every video I receive to tag for trigger warnings, so please don't send me super long videos.

I don’t post or boost negative propaganda about any hot woman. If you really hate that a certain hot woman is winning, send me positive propaganda for their hot opponent. If you think a hot woman shouldn’t even be included in the tournament because of scummy things she did in her lifetime, please read my take on it here.

If I see repetitive, trolling, and/or bigoted remarks in the comments, I may block you from this bracket. If you want to point out a hot woman’s flaws or misdemeanors, that’s fine, but if I see consistent bad-faith trolling, you will be blocked.

The views expressed in the propaganda are not my own. I don’t submit my own propaganda, and I don’t change what’s submitted beyond fixing obvious spelling mistakes. If you hate a poll bio or a pic, let me know and send me something I can use instead. Thoughtless bitching gets blocked.

"Where are the hot men?" Most of them are in the shadow realm! Toshiro Mifune was crowned the winner of the Hot & Vintage Men Tournament, and the rest were banished below the earth, where shadows creep and the hours grow long. You can find all the round 1 matchups here (thank you @markwatnae!), or you can do a tag search to find out what happened to a specific hot man.

"Tell me more about this shadow realm?" There is too much lore. Send me an ask about this.

“My FAQ isn’t on here :(” send me an ask! I love hearing from you guys—just please check these basics first.

Thank you for being here! Enjoy the tournament.

If you want to search through the different rounds of the tournaments, or see the schedule for future tournaments, I'm including links under the cut.

Relevant tags:

First round of the hot men—#round 1 archive, #round 1 blog

Second round of the hot men—#round 2 archive, #round 2 blog

Third round of the hot men—#round 3 archive, #round 3 blog

Fourth round of the hot men—#round 4 archive, #round 4 blog

Quarterfinals of the hot men—#round 5 archive, #round 5 blog

Semifinals—#TWO KINGS archive, #TWO KINGS blog

Finals—#hot men finals

First round of the hot women—#ladies 1 archive, ladies 1 blog

Second round of the hot women—#ladies 2 archive, #ladies 2 blog

Third round of the hot women—#ladies 3 archive, #ladies 3 blog

Other featured tags: #housekeeping (organization updates), #family lore (personal anecdotes in asks relating to the hotties or stories about sharing this poll with family members), #hollywood creatures (pets named after old movie stars), and #silly times (what it says on the tin).

Upcoming Tournaments, in order:

Ultimate Hottie Tournament (top brackets of the hot men & hot women competing together)

Scrungly Little Guys tournament (gender neutral)

TBD: Horror Hotties (Frankensteins, Draculas, Brides, etc.)

TBD: Dandy Detectives (Marples, Sherlocks, Nancy Drews, etc.)

fun mini polls that pits sets of characters from the same movie together, like the Philadelphia Story or Seven Brides for Seven Brothers ones (these can be found in the #minis tag)

#new masterpost! #housekeeping #ladies 4

[perlelune]

Tag, You’re It | Ethan Landry | iv.

Happy, carefree college days meet their abrupt end when every guy who approaches you mysteriously turns up dead.

Warnings: NON-CON, Stalking, Bimbo!Reader, Clueless Reader, Loss of Virginity, Incel Ethan, Cheerleader Reader, Skin Carving (w/knife), Canon Typical Slashing, Voyeurism, Kidnapping, Forced Masturbation, Filming, Blackmail

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

"Put the phone down. On speaker," Ghostface orders.

The device almost slides right out of your clammy palm when you place it by your sock-covered foot. 

"Now…"

His voice dips, its intimate echo rippling across your skin.

Tension clogs your throat as you await his next command, a mess of shivering limbs on your bed.  

Whatever he asks you to do, you know you’ll hate it, and yourself. 

But there’s no other option when your friends’ lives hang in the balance. 

No choice besides yielding to the killer’s whims, however sick and twisted. 

"I want you to touch yourself, princess."

Puzzled by his request, you blink and parrot his words back to him,"Touch myself?"

He unleashes a dark laugh, a chill dancing on your spine at the sound. 

"Let me explain it in terms even my airheaded little princess can understand," he rasps, blatantly condescending. I want you to shove your fingers in that tight pussy while I watch you do it…and make yourself come." Your eyes widen in shock. "If you don’t come…" Your open thighs tremble as an air of malevolence saturates the air. "Goodbye Mindy and Anika."

The heavy, searing weight of his threat sits in your gut like hot coals. 

Your lip wobbles, a tear escaping the confine of your lids. 

"I’ll do it," you mutter, your quivering hand already inching to your exposed center. 

"Hey, no need to rush," he chuckles. "Take your time, princess. After all…I want to enjoy the show."

He sighs and a zipping sound followed by a muffled rustle reaches you. Relief flows from his inflection as he instructs, "Why don’t you start with rubbing your hand up and down your pussy?"

Sticky wetness coats your fingers as you glide them over your folds. 

Heat flares in your cheeks as Ghostface’s gruff moans rise from the phone. 

Though you can’t know for sure, you suspect from how breathless and hoarse he sounds, he may be touching himself too. 

You grow more embarrassed at the thought. 

"Unbutton your shirt and grab your tit." He lets out a throaty purr as you undo the buttons of your blouse. You palm your breast and rub your thumb over your pebbled peak. A hiss floats from your lips at the sensation, your core clenching. 

"Fuck…you’ve got the most perfect tits I’ve ever seen. You know that, princess?" He pauses, seeming to choke on his own breath before chiming, "Bet they’d look even better covered with my cum."

A shuddering breath escapes your mouth. 

"Put one finger inside. Tell me how it feels."

As you keep fondling your breast, you sink one digit inside your wet heat. You gasp as you graze a sensitive, spongy spot that makes your breath falter. 

"Wet. Tight…" Reflexively, as you rock inside your walls, they squeeze around your fingers. Ragged moans climb up your throat. 

Pleasure builds in your belly as it tenses. 

"Put a second one," he urges, his words punctuated by a gravelly whine and the faint, sloppy friction of skin against skin on the other side of the phone. 

Your face ignites. While you’re not the brightest bulb, it’s not hard figuring out what he’s doing while talking to you. 

A wave of sickness threatens to overwhelm you but you quell it.

You add a second digit to the first. Your lids quake, a sharp pain rippling through your core at the burning stretch.

You hardly ever touch yourself there, much less with more than one finger.

"It hurts," you sob. "Please…"

Your whimpers only appear to arouse him more, a moan following your admission. 

"Oh…Fuck." You hear him swallow and exhale rapidly. "Keep going. Don’t you dare stop. Play with your clit at the same time."

Letting go of your chest, your other hand creeps between your thighs. Cheeks aflame, you start rubbing your swollen, sensitive nub in circles.

Your breath stutters. Your hips wiggle as your stomach tightens. 

"Rub it harder." You chew on your bottom lip as the lustful pants leaving your throat swell in volume. Disapproval vibrates in Ghostface’s distorted, gravelly voice. "Don’t keep it in. I want to hear you loud and clear, princess."

Reluctantly, you free your lip, allowing every moan and whimper to spill out unchecked. 

Your fingers pump in and out at a faster pace and the wet squelching of your cunt mingles with the shameful sounds rising from your mouth. 

You massage your clit, growing slicker as your vision gets hazy. 

"Remember what I said. What happens if you don’t come, pretty girl."

This incentivizes you to try even harder. 

You play with your pussy with more fervor than before, teasing that tender spot inside you that has your vision sway. 

You can tell how close you are to your pinnacle, the coils in your belly tight and warm tingles swirling at the apex of your thighs. 

The patterns your fingers trace over your sensitive parts turn hectic and desperate. 

"Tell me you can’t wait for my fat cock to ruin your tight little pussy," Ghostface rumbles through the staccato of his uneven, raspy moans. 

Tears adorning your lashes, you repeat his words between strained lungfuls. "I c-can’t wait for your f…fat cock to ruin my little p-pussy, Mr. Ghostface."

His elated laugh cascades across your flesh. 

"Come for me, princess."

The air dwindles in your lungs as your eyes roll back. The dam shatters at once, your legs quaking as waves of pleasure scatter through your lower body. Your body jolts and falls limply on the sheets, your back arching as your climax hits you. 

"Ah, shit," he says. 

The killer’s long, throaty sigh lands in your ears, the sound of him relieving himself strangely making your bundle of nerves pulse. 

"Good girl," he lauds, mirth and lust radiating from his deep timbre.

His choppy breaths mingle with yours through the phone.

As you lie on your side on the bed, the haze clears and a vast well of shame blooms inside you. 

After a few minutes of silence, he laughs again. 

Satisfaction drips from his tone.

"I’m proud of you for playing my little game," he says. "And now, we have our first souvenir together, in 4K."

Your brows knit as you shakily pick up the phone.

"What do you m-mean?"

He doesn’t reply, instead humming softly, "Goodnight, princess."

The call ends as he hangs up. 

Quivering lips bound shut by stupor, you quickly grab your bear and hold him against your chest. You bury yourself under the covers as quiet tears roll down your face. 

You don’t get much sleep if any that night, tossing and turning when you’re not drenching the sheets with the salty streams pouring from your eyes. 

Despite him never entering the room, terror paralyzes you. 

He might as well have, his sinister presence coiled around you and the power he held over you tattooed into your very bones. 

You bolt awake in the morning, the wild drumming of your heart blaring in your ears.

The first thing you do is rush to collect  your phone. But frustration roars inside you when you realize it died during your fitful sleep. 

Heart in your throat, you scramble in search of your charger. Once you find it in a forgotten corner of your bed, a relieved exhale ripples through your lips. 

Impatient, you groan as you wait for the lightning bolt icon to shift to one percent. The painful sluggishness of it escalates your blood pressure even more. 

You bounce on your bed as your phone takes what seems like eternity and beyond to turn itself on. 

When it finally does, you don't even have to look through your contacts to find Mindy, your best friend appearing in your most recent calls.

You punch the number and chew your nails anxiously. 

Ghastly thoughts lurk about your mind with each lingering, torturous second. 

What if he lied? 

What if he toyed with you for no reason? 

Of course, your roommate picks this opportune moment to knock on the door.

"Hey! Did you lock me out? Open the fucking door!"

Startled, your head snaps up.

"Not now, Vanessa," you yell, herding your focus back to your phone. "Pick up, pick up, pick up…"

You hear your roommate mutter 'bitch' on the other side of the door and kick it one last time before walking away. 

All your calls go to voicemail after a few rings. You lose hope, already picturing the worse. In your sleep-deprived, frazzled brain, the image of your friends’ lifeless forms lying sprawled on the floor is conjured. 

Your gaze fills with tears as you plummet at the end of your bed. 

While the sun’s basking your room in light, your world has never been this dark. 

It’s the pathetic state you remain in as you amble across the hallways later, no cheer in your step as you drag your feet to class. 

Each of your thoughts is asieged by your friends’ fate. Who knows if they even made it through the night, despite your best efforts to comply with Ghostface’s sick demands.

Your dispirited trek comes to a sudden halt as you catch sight of them, strolling to your first class with their arms linked. 

You all but tackle Mindy into a hug after racing down the hallway. 

"Mindy!" you shriek, overwhelmed with emotion at having her in your arms, safe, whole and - most importantly - alive. 

She laughs, both she and Anika casting you a puzzled stare. 

"Wow, is something wrong? Not that I mind random hugs but…"

You punch her in the rib and rear back with a scowl. 

"You didn't answer your phone, dingus! I was worried sick."

Mindy winces in response to your outburst. 

"Ouch. Sorry, mom," she jests, but when she notes the way your eyes fill with tears again, concern invades her features. Her tone softens as she elaborates, "Anika and I were…busy last night, so our phones were on silent."

They share a secret smile, hands twining. Your cheeks warm as understanding dawns over you. 

You approach them and give them a tight hug.

"I…I’m just happy to see you both, that’s all," you mumble between quivering sobs. You take a minute to soak in the fact that they’re okay, that you can feel their beating hearts against your own. 

Your friends are okay. Ghostface kept his promise. 

Despite how humiliated and violated last night made you feel, at least there is one perk…your friends lived through it. 

Anika rubs soothing circles on your back.

"Well, we’re happy to see you too. Always." She tilts her head and studies you. "Wanna grab lunch later? Talk about what’s really going on with you?"

Gulping a pacifying breath, you fall back. You look at both their faces, scrunched in worry. You’re thankful for them…but you can’t talk about last night to anyone. 

In fact, you’d rather toss the whole ordeal into a well of oblivion. You feel dirty enough as it is. Tainted. 

Still, spending time with them is just what you need. 

"I’d love that," you chime, swallowing your tears long enough for them to disappear from view. 

But as soon as they’ve vacated the hallway, the ephemeral mask of cheerfulness you donned before crumbles. 

You shrink into a mess of tears in a dusky corner of the faculty, hiding behind a set of stairs no one ever uses. 

"I have tissues if you want. I have t-three tissues."

"Ethan?" Your mouth parts as Ethan’s staggering presence crowds your vision. He’s crouched in front of you, that same lopsided, bashful smile he had at the party decorating his lips. Sun beams hit his dark curls, highlighting the russet and chestnut hues of his thick mane. 

You slowly blink, noticing his outstretched hand and the tissues in it. 

You accept them gracefully and dab your eyes with one. 

"Hey." He sits next to you under the stairs and leans against the wall. "Wanna talk about it?"

You sniffle and shake your head in response. 

Ethan nods in acknoledgement. You appreciate that he doesn’t push, settling for sitting with you as you cry in your hand.

"Okay," he says when your weeping alleviates. "Then, maybe we can go to a café and study? Since you’ve missed our first session anyway."

Embarrassment surges inside you. Right. You and Ethan agreed to meet at the library two days ago. 

You were caught amidst your guilt spiral regarding Connor’s death at the time. 

You squeeze his arm and bunch your lips apologetically. 

"I’m so sorry, Ethan. It totally slipped my mind."

He waves a dismissive hand in the air. 

"It’s okay. You were dealing with a lot. I get it."

Deflating, you release his bicep and sigh. 

"Still, that’s not okay. You were so nice to offer."

"Don’t worry about it. Besides, I’ve got time now," he informs.

Hugging your knees, you flash him a hollow smile. 

"Thank you. You're a really good friend." You grimace. "I'm sorry Chad and Mindy gave you such a hard time the other day."

He gives a nonchalant shrug. 

"It's okay. Could be anyone, right?" He pauses, scrutinizing your face. "Even me."

This draws the first genuine laugh of the week from you.

Ethan being Ghostface? The mere idea is ludicrous. 

There is an ocean of differences between the monster who coerced you into doing dirty things last night and the sweet boy who handed you tissues today. 

They could never be the same person. That’s silly. 

"I’d find that very hard to believe," you say between watery chuckles. 

The only reply you get from Ethan is a wide, tight-lipped smile as he slants his head sideways, his gaze lighting up as it runs over you. 

~

#ethan landry x reader #ethan landry #dark!ethan landry #scream vi #ethan landry x you #scream #scream 6 #ethan landry x bimbo!reader

[chaoffee]

A Comforting Touch

Character(s): Venti x gn reader Tags: Modern au , comfort , established relationship , very light comedy sprinkled in (like super light) Warnings: mention of a panic attack (no in-depth writing about it) , semi-proofread Words: 961 Notes: a comfort fic inspired by my own suffering. may it give comfort to some of you as well <3

•○▬

A horrible day is what you called today. Nothing had gone as planned and somehow as the day progressed forward it got worse. You’ve shed tears, fumed in rage that your face felt as hot as the boiling blood in your body to nearly collapsing in on yourself as you were on the brink of a panic attack. It was all too much for you to handle.

You lay on your bed, feeling like a husk as you stared at your phone screen, hugging your favorite plush to your chest. An attempt at trying to distract yourself from the day’s events and your thoughts. To distract yourself from the physical ache of your heart in your chest and the sobs that lodged themselves in your throat because you refuse to cry again. Scrolling through social media, looking at the different images or videos that appeared along your feed.

A knock on your bedroom door, stirred you from your tunnel vision o your phone and the comfortable position you had gotten yourself into. You didn’t want to talk or see anyone at the moment… You looked at your door, weariness pulling at you as you sat up. “Come in,” your voice came out soft and you thought you would have to repeat yourself, but the sight of your door opening eased that sudden worry.

A head full of black hair and blue faded twin braids popped in from the side of the slightly opened door. His eyes meet yours and a small, soft smile spread on his lip, “Well, hello there.”

You look at him for a moment, clogs turning in your brain. Why is Venti here? The image of your flatmate, Lumine, popping into your mind’s eye. She probably told him about the day you’ve had, probably even insisted on him coming over after you “locked” yourself away in your room. You let out a sigh, “Lumine invited you over, didn’t she?”

Venti slowly enters the room, as if trying to hide the fact that he’s entering and closing the door, as if he was a ninja of some kind. The thought briefly crossed your mind, amusing you slightly. He smiled nervously, eyes closing as he awkwardly scratched his cheek, “She did, yes.”

You shook your head, another sigh falling from your lips, “And I suppose she told you about everything that happened today?” You fiddled with the plushy you were previously hugging for comfort that now sat in your lap.

“Now that she didn’t do,” Venti stood in front of your now closed door, looking at you with eyes that seem to look into your very soul, “She only told me that you might appreciate my company after a rough day.”

You smiled slightly, thanking Lumine for her ability to keep things hidden when she deems them worth keeping to herself. Although she could be quite the blunt and unpredictable friend, she was still considerate of you and others. She’s probably worried about you and knew of the thoughts and feelings that stirred awake inside of you when things get tough in your life.

You’re shaken from your thoughts by the slow movement of Venti taking a step towards you. His eyes searching yours for any indication you don’t want him there. “Would you rather I leave you be for now?” he asked. Although initially you did want to be alone…Venti’s presence was always a welcoming sight for you, and you knew Lumine took that into consideration. She knew that you wouldn’t be able to show him away and probably end up crying in his arms as he comforted you. Sneaky of her to use your weakness of your significant other to ensure you aren’t alone with your thoughts for too long.

You shook your head, “No…you can stay.”

Venti smiled gently at you, he walked over towards you with less caution, and you moved a little aside on your bed, giving him some space to sit down next to you. The bed dipped slightly as he sat down next to you, legs crossed as his body faced your slightly. “Wanna talk about what happened?” he asked softly. You shook your head, feeling the restrained sobs from earlier welling up in your throat again. “No…” your voice was soft, strained. You looked at your plush, continuing to fidget with it.

Venti nods understandingly next to you, his twin braids moving along with the movement. “Do you want a hug?” he asked after a moment. You stilled in your fidgeting with the plush, tears welling up in your eyes. “…Yes.” You whisper, your voice cracking.

That’s all it took for him to gently pull you towards him, although it took a bit of shuffling your sitting positions around, and held you close to him. You buried your face into the crook of his neck, more tears falling down your cheeks. His touch was gentle as he rubbed your back soothingly with one hand, the other holding you close to him. It took only his touch and a few gentle words for you to fully unravel in his embrace. Your tears now accompanied with the sobs you were trying to keep inside minutes earlier. Your own hands wrapped around him, clutching at his clothes as you cried.

He stayed there as you cried in his arms, whispering sweet nothings into your ear, sometimes turning his head slightly to plant gentle kisses to your head. His soothing touch helping to keep your grounded.

After some time, you calmed down, your breathing slowing, and your hands loosened around him. He tried looking down at you, seeing you had fallen asleep soon after you stopped crying. He smiled softly at you, planting a soft kiss on your head before whispering a soft goodnight to you.

#chaoffee fics #astronetwrk #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin x gn reader #venti x you #venti x reader #venti x gn reader #genshin imagines #venti the bard