#.... I feel like a looser typing in tags

[daychanelyt]

Yeh, You could say i've been workig. At first I was thinking of making this into a written story but... With how simple I made the designes? I might just make a comic blog and not like the INY2KP-VR with over complicated sprites. I am thinking about it.... I might do it. I just need to know if someone would like to see that.

[nickeverdeen]

Love in the Air | Ellie Williams x fem!reader

Pairings: Ellie Williams x fem!reader (romantic), Jesse x fem!reader (younger sister), Dina x fem!reader (platonic)

Type of fic: Romance, Fluff, Drunk/Fluff

Warnings: Alcohol, slight alcoholic behaivor

Summary: Ellie as she navigates her growing feelings for Y/N, Jesse’s younger sister, during a festive night in Jackson. Encouraged by Dina, Ellie gets closer to Y/N, leading to a tender moment between them.

Tag List: @callsignwidow

————————

Jackson was alive with music and laughter, the night sky dotted with stars above the festive gathering. The community center was packed with people, dancing, drinking, and celebrating, enjoying a rare moment of peace and joy. It was one of those nights where the worries of the world outside seemed to fade away, even if just for a little while.

Ellie stood near the bar, leaning against the wooden counter with a drink in hand, trying to focus on what Dina was saying. But her mind was somewhere else, or rather, on someone else. She found herself glancing across the room every few seconds, her gaze always landing on the same person—Jesse’s younger sister, you.

Dina noticed Ellie’s wandering eyes and let out a sigh, a small smile playing on her lips. “You know, you could just tell her how you feel,” Dina suggested, raising an eyebrow at Ellie. “You’ve been talking about her all night.”

Ellie tore her eyes away from you and looked at Dina, her cheeks flushing slightly. “I know, I know,” she muttered, rubbing the back of her neck awkwardly. “It’s just… she’s Jesse’s sister, you know? I don’t want to mess things up.”

Dina rolled her eyes playfully. “Ellie, trust me, you’re overthinking it. Just go talk to her. She likes you too, you know.”

Ellie’s heart skipped a beat at Dina’s words, but before she could muster up the courage to respond, she felt a hand grab hers. She looked up in surprise to see you standing in front of her, a mischievous grin on your face.

“Ellie!” you said, your voice slightly slurred but full of excitement. “Come dance with me!”

Ellie barely had time to react before you were pulling her toward the dance floor, leaving Dina behind with a knowing smile. As you reached the middle of the room, the music seemed to wrap around you, and you wasted no time in pulling Ellie close.

Ellie was a little stiff at first, her mind racing as she tried to figure out what to do. She could feel your warmth, the smell of your hair, and the way your hands rested comfortably on Ellie’s shoulders. It was almost overwhelming, but in the best way possible.

You were clearly tipsy, your movements a little looser than usual, but there was a certain confidence in the way you guided Ellie through the dance. You swayed together, the music blending with the sound of your soft laughter as you moved in sync.

“You look… really beautiful tonight,” Ellie finally managed to say, her voice quiet as she looked into your eyes.

Your smile widened, and you leaned in a little closer. “You’re not so bad yourself, Williams,” you teased, your voice full of affection.

Ellie’s heart pounded in her chest as the distance between you shrank, and before she knew it, you were leaning in even closer. Time seemed to slow down as your lips brushed against Ellie’s, and then you were kissing—soft, warm, and perfect.

Ellie’s mind went blank as she melted into the kiss, her hands finding their way to your waist, pulling you closer. The rest of the world faded away, leaving just the two of you in that moment, lost in each other.

When you finally pulled away, you looked up at Ellie with a blissful, almost puppy-like expression, your eyes shining with happiness. Ellie couldn’t help but smile back, her heart feeling like it was about to burst.

But before either of you could say anything, Jesse suddenly appeared, gently but firmly pulling you away from Ellie without a word. Ellie stood there, a little dazed, as she watched Jesse lead you away from the dance floor.

Dina quickly joined Ellie, noticing her confused expression. “Don’t worry,” Dina said, placing a hand on Ellie’s shoulder. “Jesse just didn’t like seeing his little sister like that after a few drinks. He’s not mad, just… protective.”

Ellie nodded slowly, trying to process everything that had just happened. “Right… yeah, I get it,” she mumbled, still feeling the lingering warmth of your lips on hers.

The next morning, Ellie was up early, getting ready for patrol. She was still buzzing from the events of the previous night, replaying the kiss over and over in her mind. But her thoughts were interrupted when she heard a knock on her door.

Opening it, she found Jesse standing there, his expression unreadable. Ellie felt a surge of panic, assuming the worst. “Jesse, look, about last night—” she started, but Jesse cut her off with a wave of his hand.

“Relax, man,” Jesse said, his tone surprisingly calm. “I’m not here to give you a hard time. I just came to ask… will you get your girlfriend to the stables, please?”

Ellie blinked in surprise, her heart skipping a beat. “Wait, what?”

Jesse sighed, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Y/N. She’s probably still in bed with a headache from last night. She’ll need some help getting ready for patrol. So go get her.”

Ellie groaned, rubbing her temples. “Oh my god…”

But before she could say anything else, Jesse was already walking away, leaving Ellie standing in the doorway, still trying to wrap her head around what had just happened.

Ellie made her way to your house, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness. When she arrived, she found you still in bed, looking a little worse for wear but still as beautiful as ever.

“Morning,” Ellie said softly, sitting on the edge of the bed.

You groaned, pulling the covers over your head. “Noo…”

Ellie chuckled, gently tugging the blanket down. “Come on, we’ve got patrol. Let’s get you up and ready.”

With Ellie’s help, you managed to get out of bed and start getting dressed, though you moved slowly, clearly feeling the effects of the previous night. Ellie handed you a glass of water and some painkillers, which you took gratefully.

As you fumbled with your clothes, Ellie couldn’t help but notice how endearing you looked, half-asleep and struggling to button up your shirt. Without thinking, Ellie reached out and helped, her fingers brushing against yours as she did.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, your eyes drooping as you leaned into Ellie’s touch.

Ellie smiled, pulling your hoodie over your head, making sure you were warm and comfortable. “There, all set,” Ellie said, but you were already sinking back into bed, your energy clearly depleted.

“Just… five more minutes,” you muttered, curling up under the covers again.

Ellie sighed, but her heart was full as she watched you doze off. Unable to resist, she laid down next to you, wrapping an arm around your waist. You instinctively cuddled closer, your fingers playing with the hem of Ellie’s hoodie as you drifted back to sleep.

Ellie felt her own eyelids grow heavy, the warmth and comfort of your presence lulling her into a peaceful state. She closed her eyes, letting herself relax as she held you close.

You were both fast asleep when Jesse came looking for you a little while later. He opened the door, finding you curled up together on the bed, both sound asleep.

Jesse rolled his eyes, a small smile on his lips as he took in the scene. “Figures,” he muttered to himself before closing the door quietly.

He found Dina nearby and quickly filled her in on the situation. The two of them agreed to take over today’s patrol, giving Ellie and you the day off.

Back in the room, Ellie and you slept peacefully, completely unaware of the plans being made around you. For now, all that mattered was the warmth of each other’s presence, and the comfort of knowing you were right where you belonged.

[fanon-elio]

By your side.

Part 4

Summary: You are the CEO of a big company and hired Lycaon as your personal attendant, however it seems that your wolfish butler has developed a crush on you. So while you and him were on a business trip, both of you were forced to confront your growing feelings for eachother.

Tag: Blue Letter (Hurt/comfort)

Pairing: Von Lycaon x fem!reader (afab)

Disclaimer: This story is completely fictional and is not canon. You are responsible for the content you consume, so if the following warnings trigger you, you may read at your own risk.

Warnings: Fluff, Slow burn'ish, long fic, mutual pining, reader is smaller than lycaon, lycaon is down bad horrendous, friends to lovers type stuff, some flashbacks here and there.

Angst, Jealousy, mentions of injury, mentions of blood, Lycaon being awfully hard on himself, Guilt, body dysmorphia.

Other warnings: lowkey my first fanfiction, so bare with me here. (T^T)

Yes, this fanfiction WILL contain Nsfw in the future.

I added some throw-away characters to the story as plot devices, no they're not oc's and they hold no importance to the story other than providing character development.

This fic contains a lot of scenarios written in Lycaons pov cuz i eat this shit up for breakfast.

Hello how are you? First things first, I apologize any mistakes you may find, and constructive criticism is always appreciated. This part is a bit longer than the previous ones because if I would have split it up, the pacing would have felt weird. I hope you enjoy regardless.

"You're y/n right?" The woman asks, and you nod, a little confused as to how she knew you despite never having seen or spoken to you. She seems to have picked up on your confusion "I'm sorry, I don't mean to offend you-" you try to explain, but she interrupts you, and instead gives you a reassuring pat on the shoulder "don't worry babes, I get it your cautious, but I'm totally on your side, I'm Natalie by the way" she introduced herself, pumping her lip gloss a few times "in fact, nobody has ever made my looser of a husband as mad as you, and I respect you for that big time" she said, and you let out a short chortle, more so to mask your still growing confusion "when I tell you that he got so pressed over your conversation with him after dinner, he really done called his mom to cry about it" she lets out a hearty laugh, and you followed short. But then again you couldn't help the question burning on your tongue as to why she stayed with him, if she clearly didn't like, much less loved him. "Honestly, how do you even put up with that man" you carefully asked her, rummaging through your purse for your lipstick "ugh honestly, that's a mystery to us both babes" she says while she applied another layer of lip gloss.

"To be fully honest with you babes, he actually totally catfished me on our first date" you stopped rummaging as you looked at her in disbelieve, if dear Natalie didn't have you full attention before, she definitely had it now. You turned to her, giving her your full attention as you waited for her to spill the tea to you "listen, we met over a dating app actually, and the first time I saw him I was like, where are the 6.5 foot, and your full head of hair at that you bragged about over text?" Both of you laughed as you finished applying your lipstick, now knowing why she didn't like him. You would have expected her to be just as insufferable as her husband, but instead you internally apologized to her for judging her too soon. Clearly you had no idea she was chill like that.

"But then again, I just gotta know..." you fix your earrings, then turn your head to look at the black haired woman next to you, "be honest with me, what do you even see in that man?" You inquired, all politeness be damned. She lets out a cackle "well, that depends on the day..." you give her a look, silently asking her to elaborate "...today I saw in him a brand-new eyeshadow pallet, and tomorrow maybe a new Lamborghini" she pops her lips, then shoots you a mischievous smile. "He is a hateful, desperate, and rather pathetic man" she continues, and you nod in agreement to the statement of him being hateful considering how he had treated Lycaon "clearly the dude is trying to cope with something, and if I'm fully honest with you, I'm really just sticking around cuz he pays my families bills" she finished, and you're reminded of your own financial dilemma "I know how awful it sounds but listen, I gotta make it worth my time somehow" she says, putting her hands up in an innocence feigning manner.

"But enough about me, what about you babes" you look at her again, your lipstick finding it's way back into your purse "you really won life, I mean your boyfriend is so hot, and he seems to be all over you" she says and your confusion once again resurfaces. "My boyfriend?" she mimics your confused expression as you slowly began to connect the dots in your head, "oh! no, wait, he's not my boyfriend!" You say, realization hitting you square in the face, which is now just as red as your lips while Natalie gave you an equally shocked expression. "Well babes, what are you waiting for? Hello?" She says, and you look away in embarrassment "listen, it's not like I don't want him to be" you admit "but it's... complicated" you sigh "he's my personal attendant, it would be a scandal so much is for sure" she nods along.

"Listen, people fall in love all the time, and it's rarely ever convenient" Natalie says, crossing her arm as she leans against the bathroom sink "trust me you'll regret it more if you try to ignore it" she says, and you knew she was right. Letting out a huff, you confess "truth is, I think I'm just scared of ruining what we have you know" she raises one of her eyebrows as a silent question "if I confess to him, and he doesn't reciprocate my feelings, not only would it ruin our friendship but also would make all of our interactions hella awkward" you say, a blush once again creeping its way onto your face as you internally beat yourself up for talking about your love life with some stranger in a bathroom "and even if he does, we could potentially risk ruining our careers." She takes a step towards you "shit sure sounds like a whole mess..." she says "but even then, at least you tried" she once again putts a hand on your shoulder "just talk with him, test the waters you know" she says and right now she reminded you so much of Zhu yuan.

The Pub sec officer kept saying the exact same things to you, something along the lines of "a conversation never hurt anybody" or "for starters, just ask him if he's into someone" speaking as if she had ever been in a relationship with someone, even though everyone knew she kept her job like a lover. She was also the one who had recommended Random play to you, dragging you there to pick out a romantic movie for quote unquote "Inspiration." Clearly she had been in kahoots with the the manager of the store, judging by how awfully enthusiastic said young woman seemed when she handed you the movie.

"I need to get back now, gotta keep my gremlin of a husband outta trouble" she says, as she walked past you, bringing your spiraling thoughts back to reality "maybe give what I told you one or two more thoughts on your way back to your prince charming" she said on her way out, doing finger guns as a silent way of encouraging you. And weirdly enough, it does.

As the door falls shut behind her, you once again turn to the mirror, looking yourself over one last time as you silently come to the conclusion to be honest with your feelings.

To both yourself and him.

You step outside the bathroom, wondering how much time had passed while you chatted with Mr. Goldman's better half. You make yourself on your way back to your table, hoping you haven't worried Lycaon too much with your rather long absence.

But it seems Lycaon has to wait for you just a while longer, as you're stopped in your tracks by a tall man.

"Excuse me miss, are you miss y/n by any chance?"

---~---

Worry began to grow in Lycaon's gut as he looked at his pocket watch. You have been gone for over 30 minutes now, and he couldn't help but think that something awful must have happened. More so because of Goldman's distinct absence in the dining hall, his table having stood empty for quite some time now. He put his watch back in his pocket, having decieded to go look for you himself.

He pushed his chair back, and stood up, gently smoothing out the wrinkles that had formed on his suit from sitting as he looked around the room. His sight being the only sense he could currently rely on since it was neither impacted by the loud noise of chattering that made his ears ring in discomfort, nor by the plethora of strong floral scents that painfully burned in his nose, and in turn made it impossible for him to distinguish the sound of your voice or the smell of your perfume from the crowd.

A few more minutes pass as he walked around the hall, still no trace from either you nor that vermin, but he swore if something had happened to you, and Goldman was to blame, he would tear out that man's throat.

"Scuse me" he heard someone from behind him saying, ripping him out of his thoughts as he turned around coming face to face with Mrs. Goldman "Sorry I didn't mean to startle you Mr. L/n" she said, and he fought as he tried to suppress his tail from wagging. "How may I help Mrs. Goldman?" He asked politely, not caring about correcting her, while he secretly ravished in the thought of being married to you.

"I just wanted to ask if you'd be so kind, and give your wife this note" she asked, secretly grinning to herself as she noted that despite calling you his wife he still hadn't correcter her. "I will see to it Mrs. Goldman" he replied, feeling admittedly a bit skeptical, "have you seen y/n by any chance?" He asked, and she shook her head "nah sorry, I left the bathroom before she did, honestly i myself am looking for my husband" she said, annoyance clear in her voice as both of them shared the hope that Mr. Goldman hasn't found you first.

Finally, he spotted you after what seemed like an hour of walking around aimlessly, his tail swishing gently behind him as he wanted to make his way over to you however, his heart sank when he noticed that you weren't alone:

You were with a man - thankfully it wasn't Mr. Goldman, instead you were talking with another thiren. You didn't seem uncomfortable in any way, in fact when the man put his hand on your shoulder, you didn't recoil nor did you seem alerted in any way, you blushed even when you chatted with him.

He tried to swallow the lump in his throat and shake off this awful sting he felt in his chest as he watched you.

But to no avail.

He clenched his jaw painfully and let out a deep huff as he once again felt this feeling coursing through his veins like molten iron. A feeling that he was already painfully familiar with, having felt it before when that vermin Goldman so openly and shamelessly flirted with you.

Pure jealousy.

Not even reminding himself of the moment you two shared during the speech could ease his nerves now, quite the opposite actually, it only seemed to make his situation worse.

This was supposed to be his special day with you.

His clawed fingers traced the golden tie clip gently as he recalled the memory of both of your reflections in the mirror just a few hours earlier. He is supposed to make you blush like that, like he had done in the boutique when he called you beautiful.

He felt even more insecurities bubble up from the depth of his mind as he watched the man bend down to speak something in your ear, as you played with your earring. Something you would do if you were flustered, whatever this man has said to you, it seems that you liked it.

Lycaon felt a growl bubble in his throat when he watched how close this stranger was to you - his favourite person.

He is supposed to be this close to you, like when he had embraced you after your horrible dinner with that disgusting worm. That place by your side was his.

He could hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears as he looked at you, drowning everything around you out like tunnel vision; with you at it's center as he searched for any kind of discomfort on your features, shamefully hoping to find something so he could swoop in and steal you away - steal you back.

But there was nothing.

He took a deep breath, and fixed his tie as he made his way over to you, his doubts following him every step of the way. The metall of his prosthetics clacked against the marble floor, the sound of which was, for some reason, almost deafening to him as he approached slowly.

He only had himself to blame he thought. That despite the feelings he harbored for you for so unbearably long, he's never made an attempt to win your heart always valuing his professionalism over his feelings, too afraid of the possible consequences that could come from them.

Was it too late now? Did he miss his chance?

He heared you laugh, normally a sound that he craved. But now it didn't make him feel content, because it wasn't him who made you laugh. "Pardon me" he politely interrupted, fighting with himself to not bare his teeth at the other man infront of him "Ah Lycaon, perfect timing" you said "this is Mr. August" you said, and the thiren extended his hand in greeting "a pleassure meeting you" Lycaon took his hand, politely shacking it "the pleassure is all mine" he responded, even though it was the farthest thing from the truth.

You gave Lycaon a brief rundown of your conversation with Mr. August, saying that the host of tonights gala would like to have a private chat with the both of you. Mr. August was send to fetch you, and both of you got a bit lost in conversation. Lycaon nodded as he took in the information, but secretly all he could think about was how awful that man's scent clung to you.

He shouldn't smell this, he should be smelling your parfume, your shampoo or your body wash, and not another man's cologne. It taunted him with the way it wafted around his nose, like a bitter reminder that he wasn't as poised and polished as he liked to present himself. He wanted to pin you to the nearest wall, to lick you clean of that stench, and he internally scorned himself over how possesive he thought about you right now, despite lacking the courage to confess his feeling to you.

You and Lycaon followed Mr. August as he guided you down a hallway, you cautiously looked around, noticing the extravagant decor and expensive artwork hanging on the wall. On one hand you were glad to be away from the masses, and on the other you felt nervousness rise in you again. You were thankful that Lycaon was with you, since you were sure that you wouldn't have been able to face that Lady on your own. You looked at Lycaon from the corner of your eye, noting how stiff he seemed. You were aware that something was off with him, but you couldn't pinpoint exactly what was wrong. He had acted strange ever since he had approached you and Mr. August earlier. You pondered for a moment, could it be he was angry with you because you pretty much left him at the table, waiting for you while you chatted away with Mr. August? You swallowed thickly, that had to be it, and who could blame him that really was awful of you. Here he was supporting you the entire evening, making sure you were alright and you just leave him sitting somewhere. What a great friend you were.

You gently tugged on Lycaons sleeve trying to get his attention, and his ears perked up in suprise at the sudden sensation "I'm sorry I left you sitting at the table for so long" you apologized to him "there is no need to worry master, I'm not offended" he responded with a smile, a professional empty one.

You frowned, clearly something must have happened, you thought and dreaded the idea of Mr. Goldman having harrased him again with his usual racist antics. You swore if that was really the case, then you would make your threat of doucing that midget with your drink a reality. Maybe even giving him a good kick to where the sun doesn't shine on your way out.

You placed your hand on his forearm "are you ok?" You asked him, your voice laced with concern while he stayed silent for a moment, seemingly caught off guard by your question "everything is fine master" he replied, breaking eyecontact with you. Your own landed on his clenched fist behind his back, you wanted to reach out and hold it like he had done with yours earlier but chose against it, opting to give him some space. You gently removed your hand from his arm, and his tail dropped a bit at the lack of your touch. Mr. August stopped infront of a door "we are here, Milady is waiting inside for you" he said, and opened the door for the both of you as you stepped inside.

"I'm grateful for the oppertunity to talk with you in person, Ms. Y/n" the host spoke, her wheelchair standing next to the sofa she was sitting on "please, have a seat" she offered, and both of you sat down in the sofa across from her "allow me to properly introduce myself, my name is Clementine Walker, head and founder of Walker International Bank" she introduced herself, more so out of politeness since both you and Lycaon already knew who the Lady sitting in front of you was. She was a well known figure in New Eridu after all.

However, much like yourself she rarely ever appeared in public, choosing to dedicate most of her time to the funding of hollow related research. "I'm sorry, I don't think we are aqquainted yet" she said, her head turned towards Lycaon "it appears as such" he replied "I am Von Lycaon, I serve as Lady Y/n personal attendant" he said politely bowing his head "delighted to make your aqquaintace, Mrs. Walker" He seemed colder than usual.

Mrs. Walker turned to you once more "I assume my husband has already informed you about the purpose of this meeting, yes?" She asked gently placing her hands in her lab "even though it was on rather short notice, please pardon my poor time management." You blinked a few times, voicing out the thought both you and Lycaon shared "your husband?" Mrs. Walker giggled a bit "Yes, August Walker is my husband" she replied, and you apologized for your impoliteness but she assured you that it was alright "it suprises a lot of people" she had said.

Shortly after Mr. August returned, setting down a tray with tea before excusing himself again. You intently listened as Mrs. Walker spoke, internally screaming as you misjudged the temperature of the beverage in your hand, burning your tongue a little in the process. Mrs. Walker, or Clementine as she prefered you'd call her got straight to the point of why she had asked for your time, as she shared her wish of becoming an Investor for your company. For a moment you thought of asking Lycaon to pinch you, just to convince yourself that this was really happening.

Lycaon however was currently boiling in shame, his jealousy now having fully morphed into guilt, and embarrassment as he remembered his earlier antics when he saw you with August Walker. How unbecoming of him to jump to conclusions like that, opting to try and deflect from what he had seen, and felt by putting up his usual professional demeanour he used for any other client.

But you weren't any other client, and he recalls how ashamed he felt when he had seen your expression earlier, clearly concerned for him as you looked right through his carefully crafted facade. He felt beyond awful for pushing you away like that.

However, in a corner of his mind he was silently celebrating. Knowing that perhaps, it still wasn't too late to capture your heart like you had done with his. But especially after today, he didn't know if he could even muster up the courage of asking you out even if he had the oppertunity.

"If I may be so bold to ask" you started, feeling rather anxious in Mrs. Walkers presence. "What was it that sparked your interesst for my company?" You asked, hoping she wouldn't find your question offending. Suprisingly she let out a warm hearted chuckle as she gently moved up her dress, revealing a pair of prosthetics. "Believe it or not, but you have sparked that interesst in me yourself" you tried to apologize to her for prying into such a private topic but she set your mind at ease "it's quite alright deary" she had said.

Slowly your cups began to get emptier, and emptier as Mrs. Walker told the story of how she had met her husband. You and Lycaon perked up when she explained that August Walker had also been her personal attendant, who had taken care of her when she had lost her legs, and whom she had ultimately fallen in love with. As the clock hit 11 am, you decieded to also make your way back home, having thanked Mrs. Walker for the oppertunity and promised her to stay in touch.

The way to the car, and the ride was silent. While you still pondered what could be wrong with Lycaon, he himself occupied his mind trying to figure out where to go with his feelings now. Should he should act on them, or give them up. Mrs. Walkers Story was still fresh on both of your minds, and it gave Lycaon a little hope when he thought about you and him.

Back home, you once again kicked off your high heels like you had done yesterday. You should feel at ease now, that straining evening was over, and you gained a new and influencial ally that could potentially solve all of your financial problems. But you didn't feel like celebrating, too concerned about your companion. Said companion has taken to the kitchen, still having not spoken a single word since the gala. On silent feet you decieded to approach him, trying to carefully pry what was wrong.

You found him in the kitchen, downing a shot of whatever alcohol he had found in the refrigerator, something that concerned you even more by how out of character it seemed for him. He rarely ever drank, prefering tea over anything else. His tie was undone, and his suit jacket layed abandoned on the chair nearby, folded neatly regardless "Lycaon" you started, alerting him to your pressence "are you unwell?" You asked him and he put the bottle to the side, taking a Martini glass from the cupboard. "everything is alright master, the strong smells tonight just have taken quite a toll on me" he lied, and you noticed immediately by the way he pressed his ears to his head. "How about we celebrate your success" he said returning to what he was doing, still refusing to meet your gaze. You sat down in your usual spot as you watched him reach for a knife, noting how much his hand shook. "Has something happened with goldman? Has he harrassed you again while I was away?" You tried again "not at all master, please do not worry" he replied and you took a deep breath. You weren't mad at him, no - right now you were very concerned by the way he acted. "Have I... done something to upset you" you asked which was admittedly what you worried about the most.

This question caught Lycaon off guard so much, the hand that held the knife missed the lemon he was peeling, and the sharp edge of the blade found the flesh of his finger instead "damnit" he whispered, holding his now bleeding finger. The fur around it slowly turning red, and that was your last straw. You got up from where you've been sitting, quickly aproaching him, the sound of which startling Lycaon. "I apologize, I'll quickly grab a bandaid and-" you interrupted him by gently taking his hand, leading him away from the cutting board. The knife now laying abandoned, a red stain on the pristine blaid, just like the stain on Lycaon's pristine demeanour.

You turned on the faucet, gently holding his finger under the cold water. He winced a bit at the temperatur and the small sting of his wound making contact with the water, but he once again felt himself absorbed by the different in size of both your, and his hand. You grabbed the first aid kit from under the kitchen sink, rummaging through it, and shortly after wrapped a bandaid around Lycaon's finger. The shame Lycaon felt in this moment was almost unbearable for him. His guilt sending an ice cold shiver down his spine, while his face heated up at you doting over him. His ears pressed to his head again and he tried to speak, to at least say something.

But a simple "Thank you" was all that left his mouth.

You sighed heavily, and he feared he had dissapointed you "master I-" you gently shushed him, grabbing his hand, and carefully guided him towards the living room. You sat down, gently patting the spot next to you, urging him to sit. He obliged dispite his discomfort, he knew you ment well even though right now he was afraid what you might say to him. "You know, I always appreciated that I could tell you everything, you always had an open ear for me, and never judged me" you started "and I'm sorry that i haven't shown you my gratitude for that enough" he strongly wanted to object, seeming dissatisfied with you feeling like you had to apologize to him even though it was him who created this mess by refusing to confront himself. "But, I want to become that same kind of person to you too" you gently reached for his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. The contact seeming to immediately relax him a tad bit, just like how his own touch had calmed you. "Just know that I will always have an open ear for you as well, no matter what" he studied your expression, you weren't mad neither dissapointed. Your face radiated a form of certainty, and security, he squeezed your hand tighter. He was conflicted, should he tell you about his feelings now? How would you react? Surely it wouldn't be a good idea if he made you worry with his uncharacteristic antics, just to kiss you.

Kiss you?

Without him even realizing, his heart had acted faster than his brain could worry about the consequences, his lips finding yours in a quick and tender kiss. He quickly moved away, mortified at what he had just done "My sincerest apologies! I don't know what came over me!" He apologized, once again avoided your gaze, feeling the urge to flee. But you gently grabbed his chin, turning his head to look at you. You two looked at eachother for a moment and he finally cracked under your caring gaze."I was jealous, I apologize" he admitted "I had seen you talking with Mr. Walker earlier and thought he may have been... flirting with you" you looked at him, tracing calming circles on his hand with your thumb "why would you be jealous?" You asked carefully "because I-" he stopped for a short moment, taking a deep breath as he summoned the courage to speak the words he's wanted to tell you for so long "I'm in love with you."

you're eyes widened, but you didn't seem apphaled nor insulted by his confession, which set his spiraling mind at ease, even if just for a little "why have you never told me" you asked, internally calling yourself a hypocrite for the exact same reason "I was worried it might cause a scandal, I wouldn't want to ruin what you have worked so hard for, and the friendship we had build" he said "besides I-" he took a deep breath "I thought that maybe it would have been for the best if you had found someone else" he said, his ears once again pressing to his head, clearly betraying how he felt about that statement "why would you think that?" You asked confused, feeling bad for bombarding him with so many uncomfortable questions.

He slouched a bit, a pained expression on his face "Look at me" his hand perched on one of his mechanical knees as a silent way of accentuating the crux of his dilemma, and he once again broke eye contact with you "I'm only half a man" he spoke, the following silence slowly nurturing that weed of doubt that had taken root in his mind. That sentence broke your heart. You knew loosing limbs is awfully traumatic, but you had never fathomed how bad Lycaon's own body dysmorphia really was. And how could you have know, it was a part of him always carefully locked behind his polished and perfect demeanour, shamefully hidden away from the world.

You reached out to him, gently cupped his cheek, and he looked at you again "you have gone through thick and thin with me these last one and a half years, and you always supported me" you started, gently stroking his cheek with your thumb "you may think of yourself as nothing more than half a man..." you smiled at him with the same beautiful smile that would always make butterflies erupt in his stomache, and it seemed to lighten up his dark mood "but to me, you're already my whole world" you confessed, and he held his breath, his brain slowly starting to process your words "does that mean you-" he started and you nodded "I'm in love with you too Lycaon." His eye lightened up at your words, his heart doing jumping jacks in his chest as you held his face in both your hands now, looking deep into his eye "so please, kiss me properly" you said, slowly leaning in, and he obliged immediately "with pleassure, master."

Your lips connected again in a searing and loving kiss, the butterflies in your, and his stomach exploding into fireworks. He cupped the back of your head, deepening the kiss, pulling you closer to him, and you straddled Lycaon's lap in response. His hands were gently perched on your hips, your arms found their way around his neck as you both fully enjoyed the intimate moment you shared with eachother. You heared Lycaon's tail thump against the sofa, while he questioned if this was really happening or if it was just another one of his desperate dreams. And even if it was, then it was the best he has had in a long time.

You two seperated the kiss, still holding eye contact with eachother, both slightly out of breath "damn" you started and he tilted his head a bit to the side, his ear flicking in confusion "you're incredibly handsome, and you're an amazing kisser" you complimented him and he chuckled "a compliment that I'll gladly return in full" he said, burying his face in your neck. His tail moving excitedly from side to side as he held you in his embrace never wanting this moment to end, wanting to hold you forever.

You leaned against his chest "so goldman really didn't bother you" you asked, and Lycaon reached for your hand, gently taking it in his "no don't worry, that cretin hadn't shown his face after you told him off after dinner" he said bemused. You looked at your hand, marveling how much bigger his was than yours "more like you told him off, if I didn't know any better goldman would have almost caught fire by the way you had looked at him" you giggled. He laced his fingers with yours "I'm sorry if my behaviour in that situation has made you uncomfortable" he said, a twinge of guild finding its way back into his voice "don't worry you didn't make me uncomfortable" you said, bringing his hand to your face and planted a kiss on his knuckles "I liked it, the way you stood up for me, and protected me" you blushed a little as you remembered the situation, now realizing that there might have been a twinge of possesiveness in his words as well. He gently laid his head ontop of yours "I also liked how you had stood up for me during yesterday's dinner" he hugged you a bit tighter, tracing little shaped on your hand.

"I admire you you know" you said and he perked up "how so?" He asked you, while you thought about how he had spoken about himself earlier "because, dispite what happened to you, you never gave up, and stayed diligent" you said, hoping your words would soothe that ache of his "you're inspiring" he was speechless, his heartbeat picking up a notch "you give me the strength, and motivation to keep working hard" you gently trace his mechanical knee, his heart was soaring as he watched you "and this doesn't make you ugly, or less of a man, it actually makes you very attractive in my eyes" you admitted "I know I can always count on you, and you can always count on me, you have my word" you finished, looking deep into his eye.

In a flash Lycaon had you pinned to the sofa, his lips once again finding yours. Only this time his kiss was different, it was hungry and lust driven as he used your suprise to push his tongue into your mouth as it moved against yours. The alcohol he had earlier seeming to fuel the fire that still burned in his stomache, as he unbottoned his shirt, exposing his muscled chest to you. He broke the kiss to let you catch your breath, your eyes were wide at his bold action. He gently grabbed your hand, and brought it to his face, placing a kiss on your palm. Then he spoke, low and gentle. You heart skipped several beats as his words left his mouth

"Master, please allow me to make love to you"

---~---

Part 5 ->

To be continued ->

First and foremost, thank you for reading. This chapter was definetly longer than the previous ones, but I wasn't able to split it without ruining the pacing.

Anyways, next chapter will be the Nsfw chapter, and I hope I nailed it. It's not often I write smut.

Lastly, thank you again for reading. I hope you enjoyed.

-Elio

[creatingblackcharacters]

hi there; first, thank you for making this blog and all the lessons you do, i really appreciate them as a Black person because it highlights a lot of struggles i face with fandoms in general, and why i dont interact more in certain spaces. it makes me feel seen

with regards to your questions, i'd also like answers to them from nonblack fans, especially nonblack anime fans. i don't even mean consuming anime with overtly racist caricatures of black characters (because numerous anime fans pirate their anime and never send a cent to the creators anyway), i mean how can they make fanworks of it?

how can they look at something that they are told is wildly offensive, but then defend with "well, this is how it looks in canon"? where is the line drawn between what's okay and what isn't? as long as it's slow and gradual, is there no line at all?

these are probably just rehashings of your own followup questions, so please excuse that, but i do have an anecdote

i joined a casual anime server the other day and a lot of folks were lamenting one Black character's racist design and how often those on social media will replicate it without thinking/caring. The thing that struck me is that, I've checked this character's tumblr tag regularly for a long time. There are always people who will post art/fanworks of this character with his racist design. Yet hardly ever, if ever, (outside of Black fans) have I seen any of these folks- the ones in the discord server- try to talk to artists/writers/fan creators/etc via asks/replies/etc. There's a notable amount of people in that server and a notable amount that agreed the design was outright racist and that they'll never make fanworks like that, and yet still silence

i'm not entirely sure what would be the line, or the "okay, that's enough" moment to spur any of these folks into action. i'm not sure if there is one. the only reason i don't make my own "hey what is wrong with all of you" post and blow up is because I've made a wonderful little friend group in this fandom who get it, and I don't want them to get caught up in whatever happens if I were to make a post like that

And this is just for getting people to stop using the canon design of the character, i.e., to stop drawing him as a racist caricature. This isn't touching on the people who 1) lighten his skintone [he's been horribly whitewashed over time, which has been reflected in some fanarts and fan merch], or 2) give him a looser hair/straight hair texture, rather than his type 4 hair (there's also #3, which is fanfiction with straight up slurs, and horribly racist writing in it that my friend heavily warned me not to read, but that was more of a one-off case and I've had the creator blocked a long time now).

my point being, we (Black fans) can't even get folks to stop with the caricatures, which we have to start with, and then there's even more of an annoying uphill battle with the other stuff. I'm just so tired of all of this; it makes me want delete my own works and turn away from fandom all together because i can't stand it.

trying for polite and assuming ignorance hardly ever works, speaking bluntly doesnt work at all, making public posts hardly goes anywhere (partly because of how rarely people reblog things anymore, partly because it makes people 'uncomfortable' to share this information with others). Black fans so obviously need help to combat this, and yet it's like sitting at a tea party and hearing all these pretty words in this one setting, yet nobody does anything different/better when the party's over/outside this setting.

sorry for dooming a bit, but like, genuinely i would like to know where the line is for nonblack folks? what is the point/are the points where you would speak up against antiblack racism? have you ever considered speaking up? if there's ever a moment you recognized antiblack racism and didn't say anything, why didn't you? did you consider how your lack of speaking up might affect your fellow Black fans? or how Black fans may be interpret this as silent agreement with the racists/with the racist 'norm'?

..those could maybe be alternative ways of asking your last followup question?

(if i've made any blunders or overstepped here, please let me know!)

No, I'm glad you spoke up! I too would like to see answers!

[oneiroy]

Then Let Me Be Evil

You never wanted to hurt anyone, but the world never gave you a choice. You did the best you could with what you had, but every innocent mistake you made was held against you when it counted, every crossroads led you down the wrong path no matter which way you went. No matter what you did, the odds were stacked against you. It wasn't fair, and you are sick and tired of being told what a monster you are for things out of your control. Well, fine. They want a monster? YOU'LL GIVE THEM A MONSTER!

Fornax (@verysmallcyborg) and Ryss got the same answers, so we decided to answer that one together. They are certainly not villains in their WoL-verse, and I wouldn't quite say that pirate captain Ryss and her devoted hunter / guard dog Fornax are evil but... they certainly have looser morals than their WoL selves >:)

And the answer does fit, since it's more or less the road they would take if odds had been against them, and they could never become warriors of light. It's not the path they wanted to take at first, but the world's hardly fair, is it? They'll become the most feared duo on these seas if it's what it takes.

Tagged by @the-white-snake, thank you!

I feel like everyone has been tagged already... but if you want to do it, here's your cue!!

What type of villain are you? Here's the quiz.

[eahtheramblings]

A deeper dive into how the destiny system would work in a rewrite

Alright, little housekeeping before I get into it, I have finally created a tag for the hypothetical rewrite fanfic that I keep procrastinating due to college - so people can use the tag to either find the posts related to it or block it depending on if they like/dislike my ideas. You can now find it under #RamblesRevamp. Felt after posting the time loop au idea that I should probably start creating tags for these or else it’ll get confusing very quickly.

Moving on, I have come across the problem that every eah fan and fanfic writer has to face after thinking about the story for a while; just how in the world does the destiny system actually work? 

The books and show give us some threads to make sense of it, we know it’s generational in most cases, and we know that signing the book ensures the story plays out again, but beyond that most things are speculation. It was definitely written as a looser magic system to ensure that no matter who was writing a special or a book for eah they would be able to bend the rules to fit the plot, but for something so central to the story it really feels like it should be fleshed out more. Luckly, this is the world of fanfic, and I am not beholden to make a story that can adopt different writers quickly, so I can world build as much as I want!

Below is a list of changes/rules/expansions upon the original destiny set up we were given that the Revamp AU follows. These rules are what the average character in the revamp AU would know:

Rule 1: Destiny is understood to be a set of two cycles, one for fairy tales that need to be retold every generation (snow white, goldilocks, etc.), and one for the greater myths that covers universal creation to universal destruction and would happen over billions of years (Greek myths like cupid would be here). Here's a very quickly made visual example: 

Behold! the Destiny Cycle, or Narrative Cycle as it’s sometimes called. When we start the story with Apple and Raven, they are on fairytale cycle number 1,017. No one knows how many myths cycle’s the universe has gone through since that encompasses the creation and destruction of the universe, but scholars enjoy debating about it and saying a person “thinks they know how many cycles the universe has gone through” is akin to saying a person thinks they know everything.

Rule 2:

Oftentimes in fairy tales the characters have set ages that are much younger or older than what someone who just graduated high school would be referred to as, such as little red riding hood and Hansel and Gretel being referred to as children, or other characters being referred to as old kings or hags. However, having everyone complete their stories at the age they would be in our version of the fairytales would negate the whole point of a high school to prepare students for redoing those stories. In the revamp au the storybook of legends gets around this by comparing the character’s ages not to each other or to a timeline but rather to itself. 

You see, the book is magic, it somehow holds signatures from every generation with an individual page for each character and yet looks to be the same size as a standard textbook. In essence, it is a non-Euclidian object, not tied to rational laws of time or space. If the book wants, a character can seem like a young child to it, it’s been around since the start of the cycle! And if it needs to write a character as old, then that character can seem old in comparison to it, it’s a magic object that for all anyone knows popped into existence with a new cycle last Thursday! It isn’t bound to time the same way the characters are, so it can get away with fudging the ages a bit when writing each generation's version of the stories down. 

Rule 3:

In ever after, there are 2 kinds of people, the common folk and the destined. 

All destined regardless of birth order have a destiny, but what type is dependent on various factors. For Example, there are two types of destinies in the land of ever after, blood bonded and soul bonded. Blood bonded destinies are the most common, they’re what happens when a character's first child takes on the same exact destiny for the next fairytale cycle. Apple, Raven, and many others fall into this category. Then there are Soul bonded destinies, which are either destinies that have a role in the fairytale cycle but aren’t exactly the same as your parents, or in extremely rare cases destinies bestowed upon a person from a non-destiny family.

 The Charming's are a good example of the former. The original blood bonded destiny of Siegfried passed down to Grandpa Auspicious's eldest son, but he had no other destiny to pass down to the younger children. Because they are a part of the destined, however, all the children needed destinies, so the book bestowed soul destinies of being prince charming's and damsels in distress onto them. Their children in turn also got soul destinies, which is why the Charming’s know what their general role in stories will be but not the exact character (with the exception of daring, which I will explain in a bit). 

The latter, the case of a soul bonded destiny going to someone not already part of a destined bloodline is extremely rare, but does occur occasionally, especially when an old charming line dies out. You see, to keep the destined bloodlines from getting too interconnected, those with familial soul destinies like Charming's will often have fewer children as generations go by because fertility issues set in. Eventually, the blood line will either no longer be able to produce children or will produce merely 1 every 1-2 generations or so. When this happens, a new charming family might rise from the common folk in the form of a rags to riches prince story like the penniless owner of puss in boots. Again, this is really rare, but is also why the Charming's push for Daring, Dexter, and Darling to have prominent destinies. The sooner they marry into blood bonded destined families the less likely their bloodline is to disappear or thin out. 

You can have a family with both blood bonded and soul bonded destinies. Holly as the presumed oldest got the blood bonded destiny of Rapunzel, but Poppy as the younger one has an unknown soul bonded destiny, assumed to be a damsel due to her royal blood but no one’s really sure.

 And furthermore, while we're on the topic of pairs of siblings, a story that includes a set of siblings will have those siblings born to the oldest child of the last generation, not the weird cousin thing that happened with Helga and Gus. This means that if you're a part of the twelve dancing princesses for example, only the oldest princess’s twelve children would have the blood bonded destiny of being a dancing princess. The daughters of the other eleven princesses would get random soul destinies like the charming's. 

Finally, the first line of this rule is a little false. While unofficially there are two types of people, the destined and the common folk, Headmaster Grimm, and those who truly believe in the destiny system from both camps of people, would say that everyone is destined, as it is the destiny of the common folk to continue on their family trades and support their kingdoms. They even have symbolic legacy signings in some villages where a single page is signed by every child of age and then sent to Grimm to bind into the storybook of legends, and the one held in Book End village each year is attended by nearly every child of age within reasonable travel distance as they get to see Grimm bind the page into the book at the end of the ceremony. 

Rule 4: this brings me to the next point, Grimm isn’t just the headmaster of the school in the revamp au, he is also the Oracle of the Storybook. Grimm is thought to be immortal, here since the beginning of the cycles themselves, and he interprets the Storybooks will through visions and the like. This is why Daring knows what his destiny would be, Grimm saw a vision of a blonde prince in armor that had the Charming crest on it leaning over a glass coffin and told his family. He doesn’t control when these visions come, but despite this his position as Oracle makes him almost the head of all the leaders in ever after.

Rule 5:

And finally, number five, the storybook will make little changes each cycle to continue its and the universe's ensured existence. When the original tales happened, they were quite violent, with villains always dying at the end and even some hero’s dying as well. This however started to become a problem for the cycle, as destined who died without having a child first didn’t pass on the story by blood and thus their destiny got spat out randomly to a soul bonded destined. To keep this from happening, two things started to emerge. 

One, for stories where the deaths happened right before the end, the book started to look the other way so long as the character was dead until the last words were written. This is how Ginger's mother and previous ancestors survived. Yes, she was pushed into the oven and died, but one, fire resistance potions exist, and two, her oven had a door on the other side that could be opened, so after the storybook wrote “the end” the second door was opened by Grimm/someone else he trusts, and she was given a powerful healing potion. This is the equivalent to your heart stopping for a minute and then being revived by a doctor. You were dead, but like, it was temporary. 

Two, for other characters whose deaths happen too early on to be reversible (or that kept the story from being retold entirely), they slowly morphed into other fates. Cinderella’s mother doesn’t so much as die now as she becomes a tree. Somewhere in the middle of the cycle Odette stopped dying and just became stuck as a swan. The little mermaid is an extreme example of this, as Meeshell's ancestors went from dying, to turning to seafoam, to living happily ever after through a very long line of generations. Some say these softer endings have to be repeated a number of times before the book considers them the new versions, but no one's sure what that number is. Some also believe that you can convince the book to give you a softer ending, but this has no proof and is vehemently denied by Grimm who insist the book decides of its own merit what to keep or change each generation when it comes to large plot points based on what's needed to ensure the safety and continuation of ever after. 

That’s it for now folks, tune back in whenever I get free time next for some light Snow White and Apple angst. 

[chainmailchalamet]

DRAG ME UNDER, BURY ME DEEP

tags: black gender-neutral reader + timothee chalamet, dom/sub dynamics, degradation, discussions of impact play, spitting, knife play, safe + sane + consensual, predator/prey dynamics, set in a professional BDSM space

—————

He doesn’t look like much, and you feel kind of bad for thinking it but — he just surprises you, is all. Maybe it's just your bias, that you assume there must be a look to the kind of person who wants to do to you what you want done. Someone a little rough, big and scruff and a little nasty — face-tats and a thick neck and big hands. A daddy type, a bear, a deviant at first glance.

This guy is…not that. Taller than you, sure, and so good-looking it makes you blush a little, but he’s just so…soft. Pretty. Bashful little tilt to his pretty head, pretty hair falling into his face in soft little curls. Shyish smile, cupids-bowed pulled back to tease a little dimple in the corner. Nice hands, well-groomed and long and lean — powder blue polish on the nails, no scars or tattoos to rough it all up. He’s got a black sweater on, fit so nice to his frame — nice broadish shoulders, elegant neck, just the slightest hint of a bulge in his bicep. He looks strong the way a swimmer would be, or a dancer.

He doesn’t look like the type to pluck you up by the neck, crowd those nice well-groomed fingers into their mouth and tell you to speak up if you want something, to laugh at you while you try to speak around the intrusion, to smear your own spit back into your skin and sneer “what a fucking mess, huh? why don’t you say sorry, like you mean it…”

“You, uh…” you pause, choose your next words carefully. “You’re different than I thought you would be…”

If he’s at all offended by this statement, he doesn’t show it, just breathes this quiet amused sound to himself — his cheeks even pink up a little, as he swipes his hair back from his face.

“Mm, yeah, I guess that makes sense, I’m not exactly…” he looks up and away like he’s searching for the right word, mouth curling into this wry little smile that is so boy-scout-prince-charming-boyfriend-coded that you kind of want to shake him a little, or kiss him a little. “I get it! If you wanna follow me back to the front desk I can —“

Fuck, that’s not — “No, no, I’m just…I just don’t want you to get into something you didn’t sign up for, you know?”

He pauses with your paperwork in his hands, eyebrows furrowed a little, but he’s still got this smile on his face, this ever-amused, almost permissive look to him. “Hm,” he hums, holding your eyes for a moment that stretches like honey, just long enough that you start to shift a little on your feet — and then he flips through the papers like he’s looking through them for the first time, makes a show of scanning through every line, muttering to himself like he’s reading them to himself, like he’s just so thorough.

And then you get it — that slow curl low in your gut as you realize that this is all an act — that this faunish, sheepish looking bambi motherfucker is fucking with you. That you’ve fallen for it, and (the fear curls warm and sharp in your gut, and then turns itself inside out until it feels like something sweeter than fear) that you’ve no idea what it even is.

“Hm, let me see…” he flicks his eyes up, and it’s like he’s checking for something, and once he’s found it in you he just shifts. Holds himself a little looser, let’s his gaze pierce you deep, let’s his smile get a little mean, swipes his tongue across his teeth like he’s coaxing his fangs out. “So you didn’t want to get slapped across the face, then?”

You shiver. When you answer, your voice has gone all coarse, like you’re not used to using it. “I don’t…” you cringe, clear your throat, try again. “I don’t understand what…”

He nods, feigning understanding. “Mm, I’m sure you don’t…you need a second, honey?”

Honey. “I…”

“You must not have asked to get choked out, tied up, spanked and — you specifically asked for someone to spit in your mouth and call you a pretty little slut, isn’t that sweet — but I mean, it’s not like you filled this out, right?” He continues, making his eyes all big. You get the sense that he’s mimicking you, and it makes you wanna look at the ground because you don’t trust your eyes not to water a little. He’s so fucking mean (he’s so fucking perfect). “Do you need me to explain how this place works?”

You mumble something and he tuts, shakes his head. “Wanna try that again for me?”

It doesn’t feel like he’s asking, not really. It makes you feel small, stupid — makes you petulant. “I know how it works, I just…”

“You just what?” he simpers. He puts the papers down on the desk in the corner of the playroom, stands to lean against the wall of floggers and paddles and — fuck — crosses his arms, fixes you with a look that could rot iron. “You thought you’d fill out all that long, boring paperwork and you’d get paired up with just anyone? Do you think you’re just so uniquely filthy that no one would be able to keep up?”

Fuck. He’s so mean. You might be tearing up a little — you can feel it curling up in your chest, humiliation warming up your nose and pricking at your eyes. “I didn’t fucking—“

“Oh, look at the fucking mouth on you!” he giggles a little, but not like he thinks you’re funny — more like he thinks you’re so so dumb, just supremely stupid. “That’s cute, that’s just fucking precious…”

“I’m so sorry if I’m a little surprised that someone like you…” you spit the you at him, send it at him like a weapon, stand your ground and show him your teeth — reckless with frustration. “…would have the fucking guts to do any of that shit! It’s not my fault that you’re built like a fucking Disney princess.”

Perhaps a step too far, if the way he studies you is any indication. He’s gone all straight faced, and the contrast between his cherubic face and his dead-eyed gaze puts you on edge. Within his arm’s reach, there is an array of tools that could break you down to nothing with just one strike. He looks so out of place in a room like this, with a Saint John’s cross and a bed laid in all black with all the fittings — so many different spots to be strapped down. You don’t have to look up to know that if he wanted to, he could string you up from the ceiling like a chandelier. You’d even marked your interest down for that in your paperwork, so he already knows.

The appeal of this dungeon is the placement program — their success rate in people up with the perfect partner, with vetted professionals that specialize in knowing exactly what you want and how to give it to you. You should have known from the second he walked in that he was the perfect sadist for your masochistic tendencies — that he would slap you in the face and spit in your mouth, that he would strap you down and simper degrading little things in your ears, that he was going to torture you until you tapped out (and he probably also knew that aside from a couple hard-limits, it would take a lot to get you to tap, that you wanted to be pushed and prodded and batted around until you cried or passed out).

“Disney princess, huh?” He’s dropped the act completely now, and the mean curl to his mouth is so dissonant with the look of him — it just throws you off. In a way, it’s so much more exciting and terrifying the way he steps into this new skin, the way he wears his dominance. You imagine him with his hands around your throat, distaste marring his pretty face, and it’s so hot you get a little light-headed.

You think that maybe you should apologize, and then he widens his eyes (all big and innocent, he’s so sick) says “I’m gonna give you ten seconds to say sorry, ok?”

You clear your throat. “…or what?”

“I don’t know…” he grimaces, like it just pains him to do this to you (oh, he’s nasty). “I’d rather you didn’t make me punish you — there’s some really fucked up shit on your sheet, you know?”

You feel like the ten seconds has already started — he’s setting you up. He’s running his eyes over all the toys displayed against the wall, but you know he’s already got something in mind.

“I’m sorry?” You say, like you’re not sure.

“Mm..” he hums. “Little too late for that.”

He pushes off the wall, digs in the pocket of his worn-in looking Levi’s. Pulls out a little pocket-knife. “Don’t move, OK? I’d rather not make you bleed if I don’t have to.”

You freeze — there’s only one door out of the room, nowhere’s to run, nowhere to hide. It’s like he reads your mind, the way he steps towards you like he’s trying not to startle you, like he’s hunting. “I’m sorry…”

“Shhh, it’s ok, sweetheart — just gonna hurt you a little…” he says, slow and sweet like he’s got honey under his tongue. “Just gonna make you cry your pretty little eyes out…”

[aquilathefighter]

Fluffbruary 24: Needle

Find all my @fluffbruary ficlets on AO3 here!

Fandom: The Sandman (2022)

Relationship: Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling

To put it simply, getting used to mortal clothes was a pain for Dream. For all his life, his clothes were dreamstuff, as much a part of him as any other part of his manifestation. There was no difference between the fabric of his jacket and his skin. All one unified being.

Since his retirement, he no longer has the power to summon clothes with a thought. When he first moved in with Hob, he dragged him to department store after department store, trying on itchy denim and polyester that brought him to tears in the changing room.

At first Hob didn’t understand. Why was he so upset at clothes? Hob never had any problems; anything was better than the rough materials he wore once upon a time.

When they finally arrived home, Dream explained how painful all the different fabrics and textures were to his newly human skin.

“For so long, my clothing was part of me. I find most textures… unappealing to my skin. It brings me close to…” Dream trailed off, searching his memory for the appropriate word. “Close to a meltdown, I believe.”

“Ah, I understand now. It’s a sensory issue. Come to think of it, I’ve got a colleague who’s mentioned the same type of thing. Let me shoot her a text and see if she’s got any ideas, alright?”

Dream nodded his head minutely, then buried himself in the soft blanket on their bed. Underneath, he’s cloaked in Hob’s clothes, soft and worn from years of use. The t-shirt he’s borrowed is a gaudy yellow, the smiley face screen-print virtually gone. He tore the tag out after Hob told him it was his now. It’s too big for his frame, the sleeves hitting his elbows and the hem covering most of his thighs. He prefers not to wear trousers when he can. The material irritates the sensitive skin of his legs, and they feel too restrictive on his body. It would be nice to have his own clothes, though.

Hob came back into the room, holding two cups of tea. Dream poked an arm out of the blanket, grateful to accept the beverage. Hob sat on the edge of the bed next to him.

“Okay, she messaged me back a list of fabrics that are generally approved for folks with your same issues. I see two options: one, we go back to the shops and look at every single tag until we find the right material, or two, we head to the fabric store, and you pick out what you like. I’ll make you some clothes. I do know how to sew, did a stint as a tailor once.”

Dream stared at Hob, deciding. The store-bought clothing would perhaps mean less labor, but more time spent out in public with loud strangers, bad music over tinny speakers, and the relentless buzz of fluorescent lighting. On the other hand, he’d have more control over the homemade clothes, no itchy tags and clothing perfectly fit to his specifications. But he doesn’t like making Hob do so much work, the man is busy enough as it is.

“I should prefer the clothing you would make me, beloved. If it is not too much.”

Hob wrapped an arm around him, squeezing Dream to his shoulder. Dream dropped his head to rest against Hob’s comforting warmth.

“Of course it’s not too much, Dream. I wouldn’t have offered it if I didn’t want to do it.” He pressed a kiss to Dream’s hair. “I want to do these things for you because I love you. I want you to have clothes that don’t make you want to put your head through a wall. And you don’t owe me anything in return, remember that.”

Dream nodded, trying to make himself believe it as hard as it is.

☆ ☆ ☆ 

They returned from the fabric store with several bags’ worth of fabric. All of it black, per Dream’s preference. They spread the cuts on the floor, sorting jersey from fleece, bamboo from linen. Piled alongside the material are skeins of yarn, lovely thin-weighted cashmere that Hob will knit into comfortable cardigans and seamless socks.

Dream has chosen several patterns that were to his preferences. Looser fits and elastic waists so he didn’t need to deal with the discomfort of buttons and zippers pressing against bare skin.

“It is a comfort that I will have much control over the fit of these garments,” Dream said when they were done organizing their haul.

“Glad to hear it, dove. I’ll have you try stuff on a bunch before it’s done. Hope that isn’t too annoying,” Hob chuckled, used to the complaints of clients.

“How could I find such a labor of love an annoyance?”

Hob blushed. “Dream, you can’t just say stuff like that. How-how am I supposed to work in these conditions,” he laughed.

“I will assure you that I will provide many breaks,” Dream said as he scooted closer to Hob on the couch. Hob relented to his advances, planting a kiss on his lips.

“Insatiable creature. I do want to get started on this tonight, so back off, foul tempter!” He nudged Dream as he hopped off the couch. “Hmm, shall we begin with this pattern?” he asked, holding up the package for a simple v neck shirt. Dream hummed in approval.

“Hop up, I gotta measure you. And be good, mister.”

Dream stood, staying still and patient as Hob manipulated the measuring tape about his body. Hob scribbled it all down in a fresh notebook that was to live next to the sewing table, which Hob had eagerly set up earlier in the day.

“All done! Why don’t you order us some take away while I get started cutting out the pattern?”

☆ ☆ ☆ 

While Dream headed down to meet the delivery driver outside, Hob began to set up the sewing machine. A fresh needle, new black thread loaded in the bobbin, the room awash in bright light so he could see in front of him. Hob had missed sewing with the machine. He would sew by hand on occasion, mending tears and quickly patching tears in his jeans, but the purr of the sewing machine was a different animal entirely. He been so excited when the first machines came out, you could make a new garment exponentially faster than ever before! People took it for granted these days. Hob preferred a simpler machine with just a few stitch settings, but still had an electric motor. He’s a man of modernity, after all.

Dream returned with the bag of food, tantalizing smells wafting through the door. Hob lifted up the presser foot and pulled the garment away from the machine, snipping the tails of thread with his tiny scissors. He held it up for Dream’s inspection.

“What do you think so far? I’ve only done one side and I’ve done the seam allowance as tiny as I can go.”

“Your skillset holds no bounds, Hob.” He gave a tiny smile, the kind that’s only for Hob’s eyes.

“High praise,” Hob grinned. “Now, what’d you get me?” He wiggles his fingers as he moves toward the table.

☆ ☆ ☆ 

Dream has become used to the rattling of the needle, up and down and up and down, interspersed by Hob humming or scolding the garment for not behaving or yelping when his thumb catches the end of a pin. The background noise is soothing as he goes about his day, reading or preparing a snack for Hob or working on his own projects. He’d expected it to be grating, like most machinery. But the sewing machine is not a screeching brake or rumbling jackhammer. It is a friend, a kindred spirit, another family member in the little home he and Hob have built for themselves. He is not jealous when it takes Hob’s attention, because Hob loves him. He is certain of this. And as his wardrobe has grown, he has felt the love in every stitch, every dart in his jackets, the neatly trimmed seams that don’t irritate his skin. Hob enjoyed creating these for him with nothing expected in return. Hob was pleased when he stopped insisting on doing something for him after every finished garment was handed over. He believed relationships were always an exchange until Hob. Until his labors of love and the friendly hum of a Singer.

[nevertheless-moving]

Hi! I love your writing snippets - have you thought about posting them on ao3

Thank you!! Yes, I have thought about it, for sure! I'm nevertheless_turtle on ao3.

(I have... six fics, all of them star wars, half of them unfinished, last one updated in January 2022. Unless someone decides to put a million dollars in my kofi jar, this is for Fun, so unfortunately once the hyperfixation fades...it fades*.

:( star wars back and forth tumblr fics with star wars mutuals my beloved... murderbot discord i loved collaborative storytelling with ya'll and i miss you...i don't know how to make friends on the internet i just talk blorbos in situations and my blorbos drift over time... hello stormlight archive fandom)

! anyone want to talk about putting my type of blorbo, which when i check my notes is a pathetic wet person who is very good at killing but somewhat tries to avoid it, if you want to talk putting someone like that in a Situation, Hey! i may or may not be your person. this ask is really getting away from me i might be tired from walking a bunch of miles today...

*i do historically cycle back around to fandoms! i was lurking on tumblr for over a decade before i posted anything and there was definitely a cyclical nature to it! i consistently knit furiously for 3 months and then take a 4 year break! star wars fics wait for me!

aNYWAY writing fic directly into Tumblr adn/or Discord or if i don't have internet connection then a fuckin shitty notes app appears to be the Key for me?? like i tried fic writing before that in Word or Docs and it just didn't go?? idk! I think it's like the comic sans trick.

wait i still haven't answered the question.

you know, the thing is, when i write a snippet at the end of 5 paragraphs of background meta for an au, or a literal bullet point list, i'm not really sure how to post that to ao3. can you post chatfic and bullet points to ao3? it feels weird? idk. real question for the crowd in the midst of an extremely incoherent ask answer. let me know what you think!

me to myself: the question. scroll back up. what was the question. myself to me: that was answering the question! somewhat!

Right now a bunch of fic writing is churning around and out of brain, and circumstances have aligned for better or worse such that i have time and mental energy and ideas to write. we'll see how it goes. Once I get a bit more posted on tumblr i'll probably put things together and either make seperate works for different aus, or a masterwork of different tumblr aus that i don't think i'll develop further. i may turn some of those bulletpoint lists into cleaner fics for posting, making my earlier point moot.

some of my aus i already have a bunch written on my phone over meals or stopped in the middle of a side walk or on bus and train rides (why would an ELEVEN HOUR TRAIN RIDE not have an outlet to charge my laptop??). so. if i clean that stuff up ill probably post it to tumblr, then immediately notice the spelling mistakes, edit, then post to ao3.

a perfect system.

for my most recent snippet, well, that's actually self contained (not an au that requires 6 paragraphs of background to understand the snippet) and not a chat fic, so i WAS thinking i would just post it to ao3 soonish. i asked in the tags if anyone felt like betaing for ao3, i am wildly but unquestioningly assuming that the sorta individual who would want to beta a fic for me are reading the tags on my tumblr fic post. if anyone likes betaing stormlight or is interested in betaing a specific au/fic idea i've mentioned, hit me up.

TLDR above, tumblr is a for fun rough draft looser writing form place for me. ao3 feels like its asking for a bit more polish and structure. i have writing bees in my brain right now so i'm slightly more focused on that then editing, but if anyone feels like doing some form of beta, reach out and we can chat about it. regardless, i will clean up at least some of my recent snippets and post to ao3 eventually.

[iamheretemporarly]

How did Gwen convince Miguel to help her and train her? And what advice could he have given to her? Let's not forget that they are two different types of spiders, it must have been almost funny that he had to understand the rest of the spiders (with sticking to the wall, spider sense, etc.)

It’s funny actually, she just followed him nonstop and annoyed him until he was like “you can tag along, but I’m not responsible for any injuries, that includes death”

most his advices were like, “never drink something you didn’t prepare yourself”, “when everything goes to shit, bite them”, “try to have a more intimidating opening other than ‘hi’”

when they were escaping alchemax it was like

“NOW SWING”

“I CANT SWING!”

“WDYM YOU CANT WWING, JUST SHOOT YOUR WEBS”

“I CANT”

“WH-“ And that’s the moment he realises that she infact does not have spinnerets in her arms, he has to carry her while she was carrying the monitor with one arm while swinging with the other to actually get out of there, which was hell, until miles catches up and helps out

when they meet up with the others they all get that tingle and go “you’re just like me”

except Miguel who just stands there and goes, “they literally just swung down from the shocking ceiling, did it really have to take a tingle for you to realise?”

the others who are more like Gwen teach her about the whole spider sense and sticking to walls and all while comic miguel just takes in the lab that apparently his other version owned (show off), and is that a white suit in there? Wow his other self really ditched the day of the dead costume, mama would be disappointed (he’s not jealous, who said that)

also spiderswap gwen’s webs are red, she took movie Miguel’s web shooters that Gabriel made for her, bonus, when comic Miguel found out that this guy uses web shooter he was like “hah looser” (he’s just trynna feel better about himself, like sure this Miguel seemed to have it all but he didn’t get the privilege of having organic webs, that’s a plus on his side)

[hijab-described]

hey!! I saw your pride meiker, so cute!! Just curious, I want to make a magical girl meiker with some hijab options, is there any specific hijaboptions you'd like to see in dress up games?

Hi! Thank you so much for reaching out! I generally love any and all hijab options in games, though obviously I've got some favorites.

I'm partial to face-framing scarves which are draped over the back of the head with one flowy piece pinned next to the face. It's a style that I included in my pride maker, but here's another reference image for that:

[ID: A Black woman wears a draped purple hijab and orange jacket. The pin holding it together is visible close to where her ear would be. /end ID]

Created with Hijab Girl Dress-Up Game by pastel-chibiku on meiker.

Here's also a tutorial on how to drape it: [hijab tutorial] (Personally I like it when it's pinned not as tightly, but a tighter pin can make it more secure. Maybe that's useful when you're a magical girl and very physically active.)

I also love looser scarves which show a bit of hair and neck, which is a style I like to wear myself.

[ID: Alice wears a loose blue scarf with some of her blonde bangs and her neck visible. /end ID]

Created with Alice in Wonderland Dress Up Game by ameera on meiker.

There's also a style called tudong/tudung in Indonesian. I'm not too familiar with it, but I sometimes see it in photos and think it looks so good. It has a way of draping the headscarf in a very prominent arch over the forehead, sometimes using a sown-in curved visor to achieve the look. This product video shows the style beginning at second 12. (It also shows the non-rectangular shape of the scarf, in case that's a useful drawing reference.)

This game Hijabi Dress-Up - Sea Breeze by elyon on meiker also has two very nicely drawn scarves.

[ID: Side-by-side picture of the two hijab styles. One is a simple face-framing style with one long piece draped over the shoulder. The second is the aforementioned style with the loose end near the face. /end ID]

Also, I think it's really great when games include a niqab option (face-veil). There's so many niqabis out there but they get so little representation.

[ID: A woman with medium skin wears a purple hijab and niqab. Her underscarf is crisscrossed in style. /end ID]

Created with Spring Awakening by ameera on meiker.

Then there's also the very simple style of just taking a scarf, placing it on your head, and flipping one side over your shoulder. Like my profile pic. It's a timeless classic.

I'd also advice to include at least one "hijab friendly" outfit in your game, meaning one outfit with arms and legs covered. Hijab is more than just the scarf, it also includes covering the rest of the body, though each hijabi decides for themselves how much is right for them. (For example, some show a bit of hair/neck/short sleeves/etc., while other's opt to wear a burqa or niqab.)

I hope that answer was useful! If you have any more questions, feel free to ask! You can also check out some photo references if you want to get even more of a feel for different hijab types. For example the selfie tag or photography tag on my blog.

Also, if any of my followers want to join in on the conversation, please do! I would love to hear what your favorite hijab styles (for games or in general) are.

[eddysocs]

Introducing: Marjorie Blatherwick

Fandom: Nanny McPhee

Face Claim: Megan Follows

Full Name: Marjorie Noelle Blatherwick

Age: 19

Myers Briggs Type: INFP

Hogwarts House: Hufflepuff

Love Interest: Cedric Brown

Collections: Recipes

Style/Clothing: Though she sometimes feels stuffy in them, Marjorie wears the clothes suited for a young lady of her status. She married well, and though it was but brief, she takes pride in her appearance and new social standing. Though she feels much freer in looser fitting clothes in lighter fabrics.

Signature Quote: "I simply won’t let myself live in unhappiness, it would change nothing of the past."

Plot Summary: After losing her brand new husband to a sudden illness, Marjorie Blatherwick runs home to her mother. When Cedric Brown finds his cook in the kitchen, consoling a crying young woman who he soon comes to know as her daughter, he’ll offer her a place to stay. Marjorie is thankful for his hospitality and doesn’t plan on staying for long, but one thing leads to another and soon the place truly starts to feel like home.

Forever Tag: @arrthurpendragon, @baubeautyandthegeek, @foxesandmagic, @carmens-garden, @chickensarentcheap, @endless-oc-creations, @unheolycs-ocs, @fawera, @themaradaniels

[corruptedcodelines]

CORRUPT-TRIO'S PREFERENCES

(tagged by @not-that-dillinger )

(Sorry it took this long! Just now saw this on the blog. Some of these answers will be coming from the headcanons I have of them in the physical world... an opportunity they haven't had the chance to experience yet in RP)

Animal: Abraxas- Strangely enough he loves small animals he was told about from Flynn in a past life... Hamsters, Mice, Tiny birds... they are just so... small... precious.... it... reminds him of someone... Tronzler- Dogs. (Cats) He can't stand the sound of their purring... too close to... that sound... it's triggering (the purring makes him feel less alone... that he wasn't the only thing that was broken) Tyrace- Insects. They... remind him of the gridbugs that would occasionally keep him company in the Outlands.

Flower: Abraxas- Crocus Flowers. Tronzler- Forget-me-nots Tyrace- Purple Hyacinth

Scent: Abraxas- Seafoam Tronzler- Metal. (Fabric) Tyrace: Caves and wet rock.

Coffee: Abraxas- Aversion to the drink. Tronzler- Black with a touch of caramel Tyrace- Expresso Frappe with so much chocolate syrup it is almost classified as a syrup itself.

Tea: Abraxas- White Tea with Jasmine, cold Tronzler- Buttermint Tea, A mix of vanilla and spearmint. (Won't go near the stuff) Tyrace- Lady Gray, his User's Favorite.

Drink: Abraxas- His previous tea order. Tronzler- Iced tea lemonade, fresh spring energy (You need to drink...?) Tyrace: Hot chocolate

Food: Abraxas- Quick foods you can take on the go, sandwiches. P̴͚̿r̶̳̔ò̶ͅg̶͕͝r̴̖̽a̷̼͠m̷̮͂s̵̤̔ Tronzler- Turkey and dressing, light on gravy, salad, breadsticks (You need to eat? Noodles... He guesses...) Tyrace: Soups and Chili.

Dessert: Abraxas- Fruit Tarts Tronzler- Strawberry Shortcake Tyrace- ANYTHING chocolate

Article of Clothing: Abraxas- Hoods and things with tight arm covers... but still athletic in nature. Tronzler- Soft but functional longsleeve Tees... button ups. The looser clothing is freeing to his circuits... not as stifling to his Encom circuitry as his Clu-given Gridsuit. (Facemask and leather jackets... anything that feels confining or tight. It's comforting) Tyrace- Shawls and Scarves, anything drapy... like he could hide in it.

Candy: Abraxas- Skittles. All types. Tronzler- Not a fan of candy (mini m&ms, he likes to drop them on the ground and try to hunt them all down for enrichment) Tyrace- CHOCOLATE... and rock candy

Left or Right Handed?: Abraxas- Right Tronzler- Ambidextrous favoring right (Ambidextrous favoring Left) Tyrace- Right

Sloppy or Neat Handwriting?: Abraxas- His past self once had beautiful handwriting... now... its shaky and scratched... but still legible. Tronzler- Neat and crisp with slight flourish... but somehow hard to read. (Slanted and sharp like the letters were cut rather than written... but perfectly legible. Clu made sure of it) Tyrace- Shaky, squiggly, but without any slant... as if every letter was written slowly and meticulously to be sure it could be read.

Clean or Messy home?: Abraxas- Dragons hoard of things... he has his own way to organize that mere mortals could not comprehend. Tronzler- He is sentimental, and likes to keep things to recall memories to... but he still manages to keep order and a calm sense of clean even in the host of trinkets. (Has a hidden closet in Tron's room of little things he collected. Each one has a perfect, measured grid to fit into.) Tyrace- Birds nest of rocks, interesting things, too many data logs to try and write things down feverishly for fear of forgetting.

Shower in Morning or Night?: Abraxas- Defragging is impossible for a Virus... best he could do is sit by the Sea... wade out... and lose himself in tainted memory. Tronzler- He prefers Defragging at the end of the Millicycle, it scrapes of the feeling of working. He can't stand User showers and baths. (The heck is a defrag...? He's like trying to baptize a cat for anything bathing related) Tyrace- Evenings... but he hasn't had a defrag since the old system... too afraid of losing any more moments...

Tasks done Early or Last minute?: Abraxas- Slow, steady, but efficient. Always just on time. Tronzler- Early as possible. Tyrace- Struggles, but always makes it.

Love Language?: Abraxas- Quality Time Tronzler- Acts of Service (What is love... gift giving in the form of killing your enemies and bringing you their empty disks. Very dead mouse left on your doorstep coded.) Tyrace- Words of Affirmation and Quality Time

Belief in Love at first sight?: Abraxas- No. Tronzler- Yes... Yori. (WHAT IS LOVE?!) Tyrace- True love... Love... that will... last... is something... only time can... forge.

THANK YOU FOR THE TAG!

Ed's preferences

Some Edcanons. If you care.

Animal: Birds

Flower: Lavender or hydrangias

Scent: Lavender,

Coffee: latte with four shots of espresso and enough sugar that it's practically sugar... but only if the situation's dire.

Tea: Lavender earl grey or Lavender chamomile. Alternatively Jasmine green tea

Drink: Grapefruit juice or lemonaid

Alcoholic Beverage: Golden Dream (cocktail), sambouca (liqueur) tequila (liquor), white wine or hard seltzer.

Food: Pho, street tacos (with corn tortillas), mole enchiladas, butternut squash soup, or pot roast.

Dessert: Creme brulee or mochi ice cream

Article of Clothing: hand-knit beanie made from qiviut yarn, gifted from a friend in college.

Candy: Salted Licorice (or any gluten free licorice)

Left or Right Handed?: Situationally ambidextrous but favoring his right hand. He used to favor handed until an incident in middle school where he broke his left wrist.

Sloppy or Neat Writing?: Depends on spoons for the day. Usually neat cursive, but if he's been doing to much stuff that strains his wrists it progressively becomes worse.

Clean or Messy Home?: ...lived-in. He rarely has the energy to do a deep clean, but will do chores here and there as energy permits.

Shower in Morning or Night?: Mornings, only because the ratio of times he actually goes to bed versus crashing is... concerning.

Tasks Done Early or Last Minute?: Depends on priority level, and generally broken into smaller chunks spread out but planned so that he can get it done with some buffer room, though usually completed ahead of schedule

Love Language?: Gift giving and acts of service

Believe in Love at First Sight?: ...You mean that isn't something that was made up in movies? People actually do that??? Still sounds fake.

tagged by: Stolen from: @the-expatriate

tagging: @wanderxdusk / @starstruckxstray, @mysticbluejay, @first-frost-fallen-snow (for Raye, but also any muse you like), @evecolourshock (your choice of muse), @corruptedcodelines, and anyone else who sees this and would like to do it. Of course, there is never any pressure to do it if you don't want to.

[honestsycrets]

Once More, My Sweet | [ivar x reader]

❛ pairing | ivar x reader

❛ type | skankery drabble

❛ request | can we discuss ivar potentially having a crying kink 👀 like he just savours the feeling of tears against his shoulder or seeing them stream down your cheeks knowing he made you feel that good 👀

❛ tags | gentle ivar, fingering, slight skankery, just what i want in life

❛ sy’s notes | oh, to be a thrall.

It’s not that he’s particularly inexperienced.

Rather, King Ivar had to be careful about who he amused himself with. The best course of option was a quiet, gentle girl. Not the sort of conniving woman who had loose legs and looser lips. 

But the kind who whined softly when his fingers delved into her warm hole and widened her out around his fat fingers. He liked her movements, shyly pressing her soaked pussy down onto his fingers every time he pulled out. He’d not ruined her yet.

He traced her mound of slight curls, her soft stomach, and gentle breasts up to her face. Her lips were curled inward, only the slight puff of pants escaping her lips. The tension was mounting. He drew his fingers back and rolled the sticky moisture over his calloused fingers. Almost there.

“My king,” she stammered out with hips undulating. Her eyes were screwed shut behind the sloppily placed cloth he fastened on her head. The cloth was loose-- a bid of trust. She wouldn’t look. After so many years, she knew better than that.

“Not yet, my sweet,” he’d whisper. “One more time.”

“But I can’t,” she choked out.

Normally, he might have responded. He tapped the hood to that sweet button that always seemed to make her quiver. As he urged his thumb against it, she whined, a honey soaked noise. He’d hum in response, her legs quaking.

“Please,” A warm stream of wet tears slipped down her cheeks. She was close. 

“You’re beautiful.” He leaned up to kiss the stream of wet tears away with his sun-baked lips. His lips were scratchy against her cheek, but her lips sweet with the taste of fruit. It was her submission that was sweeter than the gold he pilfered from corrupt Christians. “Come now, I know you can hold on. Just one more.”

“My king,” her voice cried out. In the end, she would do whatever he said, be it with that drained sigh. It was all well, so long as he got what he needed. After all, he did love it when she cried.

[xxshewritesinblacknwhitexx]

Hey, I saw your post about tagging white!reader and as a non POC I have a few questions about inclusive writings and I really hope I'm not intruding or annoying or so. If I apologize:

As a sign of embarrassment or flattery, is using "(Y/N) face/ears get hot" OK?

Writing anything with hair is not inclusive, like saying "(Y/N) put their hair out of their face with a certain hairdo"?

I'm really unsure regarding those subjects and I'm reading about it and try to educate myself to write my own fics as inclusive as possible, but I'm afraid as a non POC my fics always will be white coded

So sorry for the late response, but you’re not intruding or being annoying. Thank you for taking the time out to ask and learn how to be inclusive in your writing. I promise you it’s not really that hard.

Your first example is perfect. Instead of choosing to describe the physical act of changing a color, you just described the feeling. Other examples are, “you felt your entire body flush with warmth” or you can simply write “you looked (whichever direction —I like down) in embarrassment”. As long as you’re describing the feeling you’re on the right path.

Anything with hair, just maybe needs to be avoided if you’re describing it for the reader or keep it pretty vague. “A tired hand runs across your head” instead of “Running a tired hand through your hair”. Absolutely, no messy buns. That right there is not inclusive. I personally have a looser curl pattern and keep my hair silk pressed in the colder months (except I live in FL and there really aren’t that many cold months 😒). But even then I can’t achieve a messy bun. So just think of my fellow beautiful girlies that have tighter, natural curl patterns (think type 4). Or again, keep things vague and don’t go into heavy describing.

Now there are some non-POC authors that I follow who tries to be inclusive, and I can see that the effort is there. As long as you’re trying and taking advice without getting defensive then you’re on the right track. Like you coming to me and asking about trying to be more inclusive. We’re not asking you to be an expert at it, we just want you to try.

Thanks for stopping by.

[binniesthighs]

he lives in my lap | reader x changbin

➛ Pairing: self insert, gender neutral reader x seo changbin 

➛ Recommended listening: she lives in my lap, outkast

➛ Genre: pwp (smut), fluffy tones, 18+ 

➛ Word count: 3.9k 

✨ Summary/Request Here ✨

Anon: sub!changbin nipple play drabble👁👁

i’m such a sucker for sub bin smh

a/n: thank you for requesting sweet anon! any day, any time i will write sub!changbin! this was such a pleasure to write n’ i hope that ya like it! <3

{see below for nsfw tags!} 

NSFW: dom!reader, sub!changbin, tsundere!bin, slightlybratty!bin, established relationship, use of petnames, body worship (calm tf down ro, we know you love binnies’ bod), *plz pretend to be surprised here too* thigh kink, power dynamics, LOADS of nipple play (m receiving), praising & mild degradation, handjob, lil pet of petplay (bunny), v soft aftercare 

♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥

you caught him sulking, bundled up in his chair with his legs crossed and his eyes dried. its the times like this when you don’t need him to tell you what’s going through his mind. he huffs and spins around just to get a moment to break his stare at the screen. he rubs at his temples where his headache surges, but he’ll never stop to ask for help or to express how tired he really is. 

“what are you working on?” you simply ask as you cross the way behind him and squeeze his shoulders. 

he sighs, and answers, “work.” 

it’s barely an answer, but knowing him, prodding wouldn’t do much else. 

“its getting late,” you pause, contemplating to next part of your phrase, “could you come to bed? i’d....love to have you with me...if you can.” 

his fingers stop their typing, and he pulls off a single padded headphone to listen to you. 

“you know that i’ve got a deadline. can’t.” 

“wouldn’t you like to--” 

“--can’t you just live one night without it?” he barks, swiveling in his seat to face you. 

his eyes, the whites of them pink and his under-eyes bagged, tell you that you can’t take exactly what he means to heart, but still, it doesn’t hurt much less. 

“bin--i just want you to take care of yourself and not overwork. you know that you need your rest to make everything work out right. right?” 

your boyfriend sighs and composes himself, then puts his headphones back on. 

“deadlines are deadlines.” changbin simply replies. “in a couple days it’ll be over.” 

the sound of his clicking at his mouse fills the room back up, and this close you can hear the faint buzz of his music on the other side of his headphones. its as if he wants to create some kind of shell between you and him; he pulls his hood up and balls himself up in his big black hoodie. 

with him, your patience overcomes anything. 

“bin--” you reach for his arm to rub in calming little circles with your thumb, “you’re worrying me.” 

the exhaustion in his voice causes it to crack, “i’m fine.” 

it doesn’t take him much to go up in arms when you pull off his headphones to hold his puffy face in your hands. earnestly you hold his eyes with yours. 

“you’ve worked so much already today. please, come to bed, i know you won’t admit it to yourself, but it’ll be okay if you sleep for just a little while....or, relax at least...” 

changbin huffs out again in his same little annoyed nature. you knew the ins and outs of him well: your words might have gone in one ear and left out the other, but they still would jumble him up on their way out.

“i said that i’m fine,” your boyfriend repeats, “you’re worrying over nothing.” 

it isn’t easy to admit defeat in the moment, but that’s all it is: a moment. he allows you the pause to plant a tiny kiss on his forehead before focusing back on his work. the truth is, you really did want him to join. the bed was always warmer with two anyway. these days, it was even a little hard to fall asleep with him. 

“well,” you throw your hands on your hips, “i’ll just be back here...if you need anything. i can warm up your side for you, kay?” 

for a moment, his fingers stop their clicking, wavering. “okay.” 

he likes it when you wear his shirts and other little things like that. he even thinks that its cute when you steal his socks and they bunch up a little. after living together your clothes have started to all smell the same, but knowing that it’s his has always been enough for you. 

at first, you promise yourself that you’ll stay up as long as he does, but not even you can stay up that late. he turns the lights off for you, leaving only his desk lamp and the blue screen of his desktop. silently you promise him that you’ll stay up as long as you can manage...

“--oh. sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up...” 

your blurry eyesight makes out the time that’s ticked past two hours since you last remember checking. 

“its okay,” your sleepy self returns. you’ve fallen asleep on his side of the bed which you promised to warm up, but he won’t ask you to give it up when you’re half awake. 

“i’ve decided to sleep in late tomorrow.” he hums while reaching for his phone light to turn it off. “you’re right.” 

“i know that i’m right.” 

even in the dark you can feel his little joking smirk. the mattress makes springy sounds under the weight of your two bodies, and somehow your hands find their way into the kangaroo pocket of his hoodie. there’s nothing like feeling his presence beside you--its a kind of irreplaceable reassurance that you’ve only ever felt in him. 

he’s close enough to feel his tiny breaths in the space between you, and how it tickles your upper lip. sleepy kisses float from your lips to his which he happy returns by pressing into you closer and melding your body with his. you make a point to kiss him slowly and with every ounce of intent that you are able to pour from yourself to him. 

your love unties himself for you just as he does whenever he feels your thumb trace under his jaw slowly or as you hold his face in your hands, tilting him to deepen your exploration of his mouth. you can feel him get looser and looser after being so tightly bound. your hands work at his knots with swift fingers that interweave with his hair, then find their way to traipse up the hem of his clothes. 

he mutters a little sound that could be translated into many pleasurable things, but you don’t need to think too hard to interpret it. 

“binnie...” you coo, gently rolling him to his back to lean over him with your upper body, “you’re doing so well. i can tell how hard that you’re working...there’s no need to hide.” 

he nods, allowing you to paint his cheeks with more little kisses that fall down to his neck, then travel back up to his ear where you nibble softly. in your own mind, its your favorite place to show him your love: he shivers feeling your breath quiver in his ear, then exhales out after feeling the small pull at his skin. 

higher under his shirt your hands tip-toe, then trance the curves of his sides and finally reach the spot where he is most sensitive...your boyfriend gifts you the gorgeous sound of his uncontrollable little whimpers once he feels the pads of your fingers graze over one of his hardened nipples. 

“oh?” you taunt, “already so sensitive?” 

changbin attempts a scoff that comes out airy on his lips, “i mean, yeah...when you do that.” 

your index circles his bud, causing and even more delightful symphony of shaking breaths to exit. 

“...but its so late...” you remind him. its halfway between a genuine reminder and somewhat of a challenge. there’s nothing more that you would want, but the clock tells you otherwise. 

your room is nearly devoid of light save for the way that the crescent moon peeks through the slits of the shades. the silver light illuminates his face in stripes, one of them directly over his eyes which makes them sparkle with the same iridescent shine of stars. 

“do you think that i care?” changbin shies a bit into the puffy pillow that cradles his head. 

from your position above him you can see the way that he pleads wordlessly, and how he just knows that he’s irresistible to you. his gaze softens to shift in that cute little pout. he too knows how to untie you, how to make you fall into him so deeply that you can’t see anything but him. he knows exactly what to say, how to wet his his cushy lip so it glistens just a little when he parts his mouth for you to crave even more than you already do. 

“do you want me to say please?” he adds. 

fuck, he really does know you well. 

your knuckles rub along the fuzzy underside of his sweater, scribbling more circles around his nipples that hardens them painfully even though you’re barely touching him. 

“that is my favorite word,” 

his tone is airy, barely audible when he asks as politely as he can, “please, can you use me how you want?” 

you tut, bowing low over his lips to only let them hover over his own. your lie of a kiss just barely makes contact with him. he whines from the promise of your taste, even wiggling his hips in his agony knowing that he won’t get what he wants quickly. 

“hm, i didn’t really hear you that time...” slowly your hands begin to pull the fabric of is shirt over his head. “say it again for me?” 

“please...?” your boyfriend desperately repeats. 

“and you’ll be a good boy for me? you’ll do what i say?” 

“yes...yes. everything that you say.” 

his hoodie ruffles up his cute dark locks that sprawl all over his face and even cover his eyes. for a moment you think of how his hair had gotten longer than you had noticed. you sweep it aside, holding his eyes while your hand swipes up and down his chest just between his pectorals. 

“and you’ll tell me when you want me to stop?” 

finally you grant him the kiss he’s been waiting for which he drinks up greedily, moaning carefully over your lips. 

“mmhm.” 

you nearly startle him after forgetting to move slowly, finding your own eagerness taking hold of you. changbin’s eyes gleam seeing you on top of him and both of your legs straddling his sides. you slither farther down his body to align yourself correctly, then pause finding your place. 

after, he then startles you by letting out a sudden cry in response to his beloved sensation. both of your hands are busied pinching and tweaking directly at his pink nipples that turn redder from your touch. you toy with the hardened buds while his eyelids flutter--he can’t figure out if he wants to close his eyes to feel it all, or watch you. he decides upon the latter and tries his best focus on your hands spread on his chest. 

its a wondrous indulgence of yours as you watch the way that his muscles fill up your hands and even how his skin pops between your fingers when you squeeze. “my bun,” you sigh in admiration, “i just can’t handle you...” 

your head spins when he echoes, “neither can i...”

it seems fair for you to take off your top too, so you do. your hands survey farther up his chest, then course down his arms which you tuck to rest on each side of his head. 

“you know how it goes.”

he doesn’t even need the reminder. 

“fuck, you’re gonna take all the time you want now, aren’t you?” 

your boyfriend regains a bit of his composure to snark with that little unfair smirk of his. 

“would you rather me not do this for you at all...bun?” 

he rolls his eyes, impatient and annoyed for barely a second. he’s quieted the moment that he feels your lips float over his skin. you can feel the way that his breaths are thrown out from his lungs once you press even harder. his hips squirm and he turns into a puddle of half-choked winces that turn high pitched and needy the closer that you get to the sensitive areas of his chest. your tongue twists around it, only teasing at first and never allowing him to feel the full heat of your mouth. your left hand swipes up his side and settles right over his other bud which you toy with between your index and middle finger. you pull, then delight in the way that you can even feel his moans start deep from his core then come ripping out carelessly. 

at last you grant him the wet of your mouth when you tense your lips to pull too. you know that he likes it when you use your teeth too, but you never start with the most exciting part. 

his arms twitch like they usually do where they lay on both sides of his head. your boyfriend interlocks his fingers behind his head to pull and hold them there until his knuckles turn white. he would touch you, but you don’t like getting that distracted. you don’t need it anyway to heighten the way that unraveling him already pools heat between your legs and sends you grinding over his midsection. 

you use a combination of gentle kisses contrasted with the pull of your fingers and eventually the bite of your teeth to get him properly gasping out as if he cannot breathe. your name finds its way twisted into some of his moans too; it sounds so perfect, so right said that way: airy, wavering, shaking after he bites it into his lip too. 

you stop to admire him, now using your thumbs to tease at the way his reddened nipples now look painfully aroused and even glimmer with the sheen of your saliva upon them. changbin is flushed out all across his cheeks and even over his nose bridge. the rouge spreads down to his neck where the veins there quiver with each of his senseless gasps for air. he jerks from the careful feeling of the pad of your thumb compared to how viciously you had tugged at him before. you grind down your hips into his hard-on between your legs and into your own heat which craves him just as much. 

“good?” 

he nods, and chuckles out after reveling under your view. 

you free his hands from their place behind his head, then you immediately find yourself wrapped up so tightly in his arms that you let out a tiny squeak. his thick arms that stretch with the strings of muscles always remind you that the power you have over him, he holds over you just the same. he brings your lips back to his to kiss thanks into your mouth that’s become raw from your musings. 

“i’m not done yet.” you sneer directly into him. 

“i had a feeling.” 

your love knows how to sit and look pretty for you. how to keep his hands to himself and wait just enough for you to make a proper mess of him. even though you don’t see it, he’s infatuated watching you twist over him to the bed table and pick up the cup of water that holds partially melted ice. the sound of the cubes chime against the glass and burns your hand with the cold once you choose the largest of the lot. 

changbin looks at you fearful at first still consumed by your heat which lingers all over his body. you test out the sensation by spreading out your opposite hand first which is wet from the condensation from the glass. 

“ah!” he winces out. 

“too cold?” 

“n-no...” somethings shift in the way that he holds your gaze and the ice quickly melting in your hand. “i-i want it...” 

“you sure?” 

“please don’t make me wait again...” 

the cold from the cube starts to make your fingertips turn numb, but its of no conscious to you when he holds every bit of your attention while you wait for his visceral response. 

he yelps, nearly almost screaming from the mixture of cold and hot that swirls around his body. he grinds his teeth into a groan next to steady himself feeling the tenderness of his nipples next to the freezing cold. you can’t help but stifle a greedy laugh at how downright confused he seems at the two sensations of arousal and biting pain that made him feel even more lightheaded. 

you love the sight of the whites of his eyes when he reaches a kind of euphoria that only you can give him. 

“oooooh god.” he laughs along with you at how preposterously unreal it feels. the little smile that anchors on his mouth is unbelievably cute, and you can’t help but want to feel it on your own. 

you trace circles around and around his buds until they harden just as they had done under your tongue. he shivers too; either from the cold, or from the overload of his senses--it travels from the tip of his head, through his hips and down to his toes. 

“aw, my bun likes this...doesn’t he?” 

“mmm.” 

the ice only lasts a few moments on his chest and between your fingers. after, his chest is left shimmering from the new substance that looks like liquid crystal all over him and where it drips down to the comforter in droplets. 

you shift your attention lower down his stomach where you stop right above his bellybutton to let both of your hands hook under his sweats. you look up for approval, which he eagerly gives with the hastily phrase repeated, “do it, do it.” 

his clothes it the floor in a puddle, and your boyfriend is left bare for you to take in. you indulge in every single part of him that you’ve explored time and time again, but each time it feels renewed. your hands eat up his thighs with covetous squeezes until the crescent-moon shape of your nails decorates him nearly everywhere. they slide up higher, finding the place where his curved and rosy cock bobs waiting for your touch. 

“poor bunny....does it ache when i don’t touch your cute little cock?” you trace a finger up his shaft which causes his body to violently jerk in response. the truth of the matter is, he’s anything but little. 

even when your words turn venomous back on him, he still drinks it up as if it is nectar. 

a wicked chuckle passes by your lips remembering what he had said to you a couple hours before. “can’t you just live one night without it?” 

“n-no--” he stammers, “i-i’m sorry that i said--” 

you silence him with a finger to his lips. “sit up.” 

he does so, trying to gauge what you’re planning to do next. the mystery of it all enthralls him to the point of working his cock up with pearly pre-cum that drips down his length. changbin waits as you reposition yourself behind him, just so he sits flush against your torso and between your legs. 

at first, you trial you hands up and down his thighs to create a show for him. your fingertips tickle him gently where his leg hair grows thin and soft. you then move to massage into his inner thighs and the more intimate erogenous areas there that you claw at. 

“hm. maybe i’ll let you get what you want if you say--” 

your boyfriend’s hands bury themselves into the sheets to grab at anything to provide balance. “--please! please...i’ll say it however many times it takes...” 

you tsk, then nibble into the peachy cartilage of his earlobe. “mm, that’s enough. i’m feeling generous...” 

you wet a stripe of your saliva up your palm and guide it to his length where you give him one good squeeze that is more than enough to send his toes curling. he whimpers out feeling the lack of contact afterward, realizing that one squeeze was all that you were planning. instead, shift your motions toward his tip and his seeping slit. the tip of your index draws rings around it which elicits agonizingly gruff growls from his throat that you’ve only ever heard a couple times before. 

“please, please, please....” he chants. 

you do love the way it sounds. 

his moans become even louder once he feels the tension from your grasp where it returns to his shaft and pumps. in a way, the whole image is just perfect for the both of you: as you peer over his shoulder you can’t even but help feel turned on by the sight of your own hand and how it twists around the throbbing veins that imprint his cock. with your non-dominant hand you continue traversing the squishy and fleshy bits of his thigh. 

your boyfriend laughs out his growing self-indulgence while you work your hand up and down, then experiment with testing him with the ways that you can squeeze harder then softer. changbin throws his head back into your shoulder lazily once he starts to feel his senses slow and intensify the closer that he gets to his release. he shudders against you too, and tightens his body too as he edges himself even closer.

after the distraction that you’ve crafted tugging him up and down and how the twist of your wrist feels like heaven, he jumps still feeling your free hand find its way back up his chest one last time roll his nipple between your fingers. the combination of the two sends him spilling right over the edge and overflowing with a rambling of curses and half-attempted moans coupled with the release of his seed cascading down the back of your hand. 

nearly all of your boyfriend’s weight falls upon you and you giggle trying to deal with your previously cold and stubborn lover reduced to nearly nothing but a limp and euphoric mess in your arms. 

“you okay?” you ask him, peppering tiny kisses into his neck. 

“give me...a minute.” he laughs out too. “i’m just...really...exhausted. but--in a really, really good way.” 

“time to get some rest then?” 

changbin nods, and gives you back as many kisses he can with his neck titled at this somewhat awkward angle. 

“stay right here, hm?” 

you cradle him back to slide out from behind him and work at cleaning yourself off, and them him--he loves obliging if it means that he gets to be pampered with clean clothes and your little massage to his shoulders to get his tensed body relax even more. the blankets get exchanged for new ones and you find him telling you not to put your shirt back on. 

changbin flushes, explaining, “i just like being close like this with you. everyday. any day. i can’t live without it either.” 

you can’t exactly tell who is “holding” who, but it all just feels so peaceful and intimate you almost forgot that you were supposed to be sleeping until the day breaks behind your boyfriend’s shoulder. 

“thank you,” changbin sighs, “thank you for taking care of me.” 

“now start taking care of yourself.” you tease, “don’t overwork yourself, got it?” 

your boyfriend sleepily hums, and tows you right back into his chest. “don’t worry, i have a feeling that i’ll be sleeping in pretty late.” 

~🌹~ 

Bunch of (Ro)ses! 

@minaamhh @dazzlehoseok @synnocence @jjewibeans @hyunsluvv @unexceptional-h @bobawithchaitea @lechanters @sailorhyunjinz @silencefavarchive @lunarskzzz  @yourdaddychan @bubblelixie @spnobsessedmemes @cherrychngkyn @iwanttobangchan @bowlofblueberries @lmhmins @eunaeiekim