#AND I'M NOT EVEN SATISFIED WITH THE END RESULT

[vibratingskull]

Do you think it's wrong to use chatGPT to write? I have lot of my own ideas of all kind of stories i even have entire scene in my head but I suck at writing (and I'm also super procrastinating) also with English not being my first language. So I use chatGPT (but I don't actually post it anywhere its mostly just for myself). Is it really bad?

Yes

Yes, I do think it is wrong.

I will hold your hand saying that, but sucking at writing and English not being your first language are not valid excuses.

You'll never get better unless you write yourself. You need practice. Who gives a fuck if the first stories are "bad" (whatever that means). You already have the most important thing for writing: IDEAS.

Why spoil those ideas with plain, boring, unoriginal, stolen Ai writing when you could give it your own twist, your very special flair, your very own je-ne-sais-quoi to flavor and elevate those ideas?

You don't have that je-ne-sais-quoi to make your story unique yet? Of course: You are using Chat Gpt instead of practicing and perfecting your craft. You will not develop it unless you practice it.

I know it can seem scary to write, it's overwhelming, but no half-baked AI story will EVER come close to the sentiment of satisfaction and self-accomplishment you feel when you put the final "." to a chapter.

It's unoriginal, stolen content, nothing truly creative and satisfying can come out of it. It has no flavor, it has no soul, no intent, no spark behind it.

It's just boring.

Try writing, do it FOR YOURSELF

You deserve BETTER than flavorless AI writing, your ideas deserve better than AI, they deserve that human touch, YOUR very own touch.

I can't even start to put into words the pure pleasure I feel when I write, it's a fire, a need I have to satisfy, I NEED to write, this is such a pleasure to see your story appearing on the page and have full control of it. This is MY story, MY ideas, MY VOICE

MY

UNIQUE

UNREAPLACABLE

VOICE

You need to find yours, for your very own creative soul, for your own good. No AI can give you that.

Let's say you try and the first chapter is "disappointing" to you

WHO GIVE A FUCK?!

You already put more effort into that single chapter than all of the AI users ever put in their """"own writing""" ever and you are therefore more legitimate. Your ideas are more legitimate. They inherently have more value than whatever AI may vomit on a document ever.

Write, draw, sing, make movies, we are inherently artful creatures, and you deserve to nourish and grow that part of you, using AI will only atrophy this part of yourself until it dies.

Write, erase words, create entire paragraphs and delete them, forget a WIP for months, and feel your heart jump in joy rediscovering it one day.

This is a muscle that needs training.

The first chapters won't necessarily be good, but this is NORMAL. You are new to it. Hell, my own first chapters are TRASH, but those are MINE, they came from MY CREATIVE SOUL and were made to please and cater to me. I kept trying, I kept pushing because it is a fire burning inside of me.

Do I still think my writing is trash? Depends, someday yes, someday no, but the pleasure of creation goes beyond the final results. It supersedes anything else.

I think my writing is still not good enough but some people find it pleasant enough to decide to stick around my blog to keep reading me, so my writing has qualities and values, even if I stop posting.

Nobody wants to stick around AI writing, it's easy and flat, not even taking into account Chat gpt's limitations on touchy subjects.

I started plenty of chapters with one intent and ended up with an unexpected final text because new ideas kept coming up while writing.

Ai will just give you a boring straight line from A to B, while your own writing will make you travel all up to Z and make you discover numbers and colors and music.

You are doing a huge disservice to yourself anon, very honestly.

And for the "English isn't my first language", well it's not mine either. Want to know how I got to write in English daily? I read fanfics.

Real fanfics real people wrote. It took some time but I got there. School did not give me my English current level, fanfics did.

Find a fandom you love and read, read, read, read, and read. Use all the Google Translate and WordReference you need until you are comfortable, it gets easier with time.

Like WRITING *gasp!*

Maybe you have an idea for an INSANE AU nobody wrote for that fandom yet, maybe it deserves better than some dry robot words and a real human influence instead.

And lastly "I don't actually post it anywhere its mostly just for myself", it may be just for yourself but using AI is endangering everyone, it is a DISASTER ecologically speaking. For each idea you put in Chat gpt you can just empty 20 water bottles on the ground directly and you'll have the same creative and ecological result.

TLDR : it's stolen, unoriginal, soulless content, its an ecological disaster, and your ideas simply deserve better than that.

(And I really, REALLY hope you did not feed anyone's fics to GPT to finish them or give it ideas for """"your"""" chapters)

ALSO, WHAT I SAID STANDS FOR ART TOO.

[ec1ipticshadow]

so lifeline au (or llau, for short) is an au combining the lifeline mobile games with hermitcraft. it's a fully written and completed fic series on ao3, and you don't need knowledge of either source material to read and enjoy - everything you need to know is presented to you, and knowing the source material is more for recognizing fun little easter eggs. the characters are extremely accurate to hermitcraft and what they are actually like while still being amazing characters to spend time with and having their own specific spin on them in this story. llau is a science fantasy story that goes into where science ends and magic starts, body-snatching aliens and what it means to be a person, the things you can do to help when the only thing you can lend is your own voice from a million miles away. it is about friendship, it is about identity, it is about how time and space shape the world. this series has genuinely changed my life in a thousand beautiful ways, and if you have any interest at all please read the proper descriptions of the fics and read for yourself. (and hey, drop a comment and give some love to the author, magpie slashmagpie. i owe him my life five times over.) https://archiveofourown.org/series/3156309

anyway! here's a few of my own aus for various things that i particularly enjoy:

outskirts au is an au featuring my ocs that's based off of the half-remembered plot and worldbuilding of a book series i read as a kid (five kingdoms by brandon bull) and the discontent i had with the ending. honestly, though, it spawned in the first place because i realized the main character's name (cole) was the same as an oc that'd really fit the job. the core of the worldbuilding is the same, but several things change for my own sake of enjoying more of a distinction and clarity between things. along with that, the characters are changed (they're my ocs rather than canon characters) and while the overarching goal of escape remains the same the choices on how they get there are different. it's not very built yet as a story, but i do like thinking about it.

ace au is a ninjago au spawned by two questions - 1: what if zane's death in season 3 was more permanent, and his identity crisis in season 4 was ramped up to a 110% through making him an entirely different person built in the shape of zane? and 2: what parts of the original show make me feel a deep amount of discontent, and how can i change it to make myself feel satisfied? the result is an (still growing and changing) amalgamation of ideas and theories and thoughts, where i try to stay true to aspects of the show that can't even stay true to themselves. i can fix her. i can do it. and i can bring a new character in during the process too (ace is the chosen name for the not-zane! hence the au name)

on the contrary to the previous, swap au (name change pending) is a ninjago au that i really have no good explanation for. the name comes from me accidentally swapping out the main roster of protagonists from the original few to an almost entirely different cast, made up of side characters who i wish got more screen time. i have the google doc for this one titled "i can make her worse". contrary to ace au and how i grow that for the sake of the show itself to shine brighter, swap au's primary growth and changes come from how i can enhance the new story rather than the existing show. i got rid of, like, half the seasons. i'm making an entirely new one. i don't want to fix her, because i have an au dedicated to that already, but i can make her worse (and more beautiful, in the process)

i have more aus but i'm running out of talking juice, this'll be all for now!

@mickemz01 @cheese-is-a-milk-loaf @aroninshonour @d0nut-gh0st @sneegsnitties :D

Okay everyone, Lets play a game!

Its like the tag/ask game except slightly different.

I want you guys to send me aus, ideas, underrated or aus that you enjoy, to me. Even if its a fandom I don’t know, send it to me! (Tho do tell me what fandom and maybe if you want explain a little about your au!!)(You can also reblog if you wanted and add onto the aus!)

Here I will start!!

Lost Au: Corruption au but 10x worse. Basically the corrupted ones have memories and everything they see is altered from reality. More info from this post. It works with all fandoms and is easily changed from orginal. (But the orginal’s ‘Source’ is very… specific.

Medieval au: Basically just the characters in a medieval setting. Thats it basically.

Legendary pokemon au: The main charcters are legendary pokemon while most side characters are humans. Easily adaptable.

Watcher au: (specific to Hermitcraft and the life smps) an au were one person (usually Grian) is a watcher. A god-like creature that watches other ‘stories’ and usually don’t have feelings.

Send this to your friends and add your aus!!

Every fandom is welcome!!!

Edit: Tag some people who you want to know more about their aus!

My tags: @heading-down-to-georgia @tinydragontoons @themissakat @twink-between-worlds

Can’t think of anymore, But I promise to add to that list!! :3

[wheredidalltheusersgo]

Stupid fucking April fool's comic that took me all day to fucking complete.

[carriesthewind]

.

[yujeong]

For a writing prompt, how about Pete and his grandmother, post-canon? It could be Vegas/Pete + Macau + Pete's grandmother as well or any combination you want ^_^

I wonder how his grandmother would react to seeing a Pete she both knows and one who has been changed. How would Pete walk the line between the truth she deserves to know and the pain he wants to preserve her from? There are so many unique tensions between them that I'd love to see you explore <3

My beautiful friend, how kind of you to send me this prompt ❤️ Pete and his relationship with his grandma has occupied my thoughts many, many times, so this is an incredible chance to explore them. You already know this, but for the rest who will read it, the following will be part of a bigger fic I intend to write someday, which I had presented briefly here: aka, Pete will be teaching Vegas boxing post-canon, despite both of their better judgements. Here, Pete's grandmother finds out about it 😌 It's a very rough draft and very incomplete, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless 🥰 ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ "Pete, dear, you're adding too many peppers." The pan made a sizzling sound when he added the fifth pepper into the mix, ignoring his grandma's comment. "Don't worry, grandma. It's fine. It's not too spicy," he said, adding another one just because. He heard a deep sigh coming from the laptop placed on the counter next to him. A smile appeared on his lips. "For you and me it isn't, but you know how the city boys are." "I know," Pete agreed, "I'm preparing this for them. Macau will be fine, he's taken this as a challenge." "That young man and his bravado," his grandma sighed again. "Sometimes, I worry he'll get himself into real trouble one day." "You and me both, grandma," Pete said and shook his head at the memories that resurfaced. It couldn't really be described as sadness, this feeling that overtook him. More like fondness mixed with melancholy. Macau had been through a lot this past year and Vegas' recklessness lately was making it worse. Not that Pete could exactly blame him for it.

"Pete, the temperature is too high, lower the heat a bit," his grandma suddenly said, snapping him out of his thoughts. It was fascinating how she could understand these things without being able to see the meal being prepared. Pete had placed the laptop at an angle that only showed his torso and the kitchen table behind him, his face hidden completely from view. If he did that on purpose, it simply couldn't be proven in any way. He slowly turned the dial to lower the temperature as he was told, then stretched his arm to grab a wooden spoon with which he started scraping the bottom of the pan, making sure the mix wouldn't get burned. "Hm, I think it's almost done, it only-" "Pete." He stopped talking. He knew that tone. He had made a mistake. "Show me your hands." Fuck. She saw the marks. "I'm cooking grandma, what-" "Stop what you're doing and show me your hands right now." He tried not showing his discomfort as he lowered the heat even more and presented his open palms to the screen. He could see his grandma's wrinkled face, her frown deep and concerning. This was going to be hell. Pete tried avoiding showing his knuckles, but it was impossible; she insisted on seeing every single part of Pete's hands. He always hated when she did that. "Have you started boxing again?" Pete was so thankful she couldn't see the expression on his face. He wasn't sure he would be able to hide the dread he was feeling as he heard the question. "It's just some light exercise, grandma," he said and hoped his voice wasn't betraying him. "Vegas just wanted to be more active and-" "Vegas made you start boxing again?" Another mistake. Pete shouldn't have mentioned Vegas at all, he was such an idiot. He hoped Vegas would understand, when he found out. "Vegas didn't make me do anything." It wasn't a lie. It had been Pete's choice. He had made a lot of those recently. "Pete," his grandma said again, but this time, instead of angry, she sounded sad. Concerned. "If you need money, maybe you could talk to Mr. Tankhun. He could give you your old job back or find you a new one." "I won't fight," Pete yelled, feeling his blood boil at the mention of his old boss. He checked himself before continuing to speak, making sure he sounded unbothered. "Grandma, I won't do any matches. I'm simply teaching Vegas some basic moves and that's it." "Show me your face." A pause. "What?" "I need to see your face, Pete." His heart was thumping in his ears. He didn't want to be seen right now. He almost said so, before an energetic Macau entered the room and addressed him. "P'Pete, what are you making? Oh hi, grandma!" He ran over to the counter and lowered his body to see her clearly. Pete could tell she wasn't happy she lost the chance to see Pete's face, but she hid her displeasure immediately and smiled brightly at Macau, asking him how his day had been so far and if he had any plans for the rest of it. Pete internally sighed and returned to his cooking, his hand trembling as he was scraping the bottom of the pan with a little more force than necessary.

[thegreatyin]

so. to tldr + elaborate on a few things now that people have had time to read this absolute trainwreck:

both the robe and the resurrection endings of nemesis are technically canon in the scoundrel's continuity. officially, caeru chose the robe ending. he just also happened to invent his own resurrection ending because he's a batshit insane freak

the above decision (believe it or not) wasn't actually motivated by personal regret! i've had this plot twist in mind for months, even before the scientist completed his ambition. i chose his in-game ending knowing full well he would spiral and manifest the other one in the worst way possible. i'm very satisfied with my choice and its results, even if my character very much is not (⁠◠⁠‿⁠・⁠)⁠—⁠☆

the plutonian shadow's true identity is that of the doomed scientist's resurrected lover. his ""real name"" or at least the only name he remembers going by is greylu. his current body can best be described as a wholly artificial noman contained in a wooden mannequin shell. he also doubles as the future protagonist of my bag a legend playthrough :)

the shadow's ""heart"" is a mass of melted-together mountain shreds, which help animate him in a manner similar to clay men, as well as reflecting the apocyan memories that give him his (deceptively complicated) identity in the first place. this apocyan light flows throughout his entire body and specifically leaks out of his unfinished eyesocket. he cannot control this. fortunately, it is not painful.

if this diamond was to be removed, damaged, or otherwise tampered with in any way, he would collapse instantly. it is effectively his brain as well as his heart. mr stones do not interact, he's just a little guy :(

to this day, caeru has no idea where the shadow is and what the yearner has done with him. this causes him no small amount of stress.

the shadow, meanwhile, has been living with the yearner and the scarred naturalist. he does not know exactly who created him or the circumstances surrounding said creation, only that the vake yearner "rescued" him and took him in when he had nowhere else to go. he trusts her completely. he thinks she's his best friend in the whole wide world (which, to be entirely fair- he only knows, like, 3 people tops)

the vake yearner is definitely 100% sinister about her intentions surrounding him but i like to think they do buddy-buddy stuff anyway. literally nothing supports this. it's just a headcanon i have. the yearner is taking the shadow on evil snow playdates and he is hanging on her every word and they are having a lovely time (provided you ignore the kidnapping and gaslighting)

the vake and the yearner know each other carnally. i will not elaborate on this.

the silverer lived!!! she's okay. she's vibing. she probably put caeru in the doghouse for a little while but their relationship has somehow survived this particular shooting incident. possibly because both of them have experienced infinitely worse.

the scoundrel has no idea any of this has happened. as far as it's concerned it had a lovely christmas and it has no idea where its husband has gone or why everyone is suddenly all up in arms about trying to find its evil snowwoman clone. it's lonely :(

lark/the unlucky songbird is equally completely and utterly uninformed about current homunculi-related-events, but to be entirely fair, that's kind of the norm for him

caeru still loves greylu. greylu still loves caeru. they both love each other very, very much.

they miss each other even more.

On heartbreak, homunculi, and the small yet very awkward matter of shooting one's girlfriend in the neck over your ex

OR: How The Doomed Scientist has been coping in the aftermath of his ambition (Badly. The answer is very very badly indeed.)

OR: A loosely abridged summary of an RP between myself and @superoffbatter, posted on Tumblr for OC lore purposes.

OR: Major spoilers for the entirety of the Nemesis ambition, as well as minor spoilers for Bag a Legend and a brief spot of blog-typical spoilers for a certain "powerful" ending of Heart's Desire.

OR: What The Plutonian Shadow's deal actually is.

So.

In order to explain this long and complicated tale, we're going to need to set a good bit of groundwork first. For some, this will effectively be a recap. For others, it will be important new lore that will harm us later.

Let's dive right in, shall we?

The Doomed Scientist- also known by his real name, Caeru- has a long and storied history of obsessing over serving others. He's always had this concept in his head that he needs to help, he needs to give himself up for the good of everyone around him, and if he's not doing that then he barely deserves to live at all.

This is the mindset that drove his quest to kill Mr Cups. He wasn't doing it for himself. He was doing it for everyone Cups has hurt, everyone Cups has murdered, every other victim that died so it could fulfill its need for stories of vengeance and misery. During his ambition, he very much saw himself as nothing more than a tool and a weapon to be pointed and used as the dead saw fit.

His own emotions didn't matter. His own grief, all-consuming as it was, didn't matter. Cups needed to die.

Cups- Cups needed to-

Oh, fuck.

He couldn't do it. He couldn't take it. He had an obligation towards those that died, towards his lover, towards everyone who ever wanted the beast dead. He couldn't take it. He just couldn't.

No matter how much he desperately, desperately wanted to.

For the first few weeks after his ambition concluded, Caeru was inconsolable. He was wracked with guilt over ""failing"" to save his former paramour, even more than he was already- for god's sake, the man could've been revived! He could've lived again! He deserved to live again!

And Caeru failed him. He failed to serve him. To be useful. To be good. To be worthy of living.

He... lost it, just a little bit. He became obsessed with fixing this perceived flaw in himself. This perceived flaw in everything. He couldn't sleep yet, he couldn't die yet, not when his love deserved to live.

Deserved to come back.

And. I mean. Well.

How hard could it be, really?

Cups was a Master, yes, and the Masters are lying conniving tyrants- but this was a promise it staked its life upon. A promise it gave on its deathbed. It clearly knew that Caeru could kill it, will kill it, and thus it had no reason to lie-

Cups could have brought his lover back. The Scientist knew that, intimately.

What he didn't know was how. But... well, that's alright, isn't it? He's created life before.

Lenses are arranged, corpses are arranged in a circle, their skin parted carefully with a knife. When the lenses are aligned correctly, the flesh will coalesce into the correct shape.

There are some venge-rats that dedicate themselves to a vengeance so thoroughly that there is nothing left of them but this one desire. When they die, their corpses are saturated with this emotion- but nothing else. When the Academic's machinery leaps to life (more slowly then the one at Station VIII, of course) it drains this, and leaves only withered shells in its wake. Perfect vessels.

Soon, the Knot of Tails reappears in the mirror. In its little coils of many paws, shimmering lights rest- memories. Reflections of rays of light long forgotten by the waking world.

And the false-Noman twists.

It turns.

Second by second, it looks more and more like a person.

When it looks up and smiles a shaky smile, its face is human- and two delicate flowers adorn its hair. The snow lacing its body curls like silk, the nails on its hands delicate and precise and perfect

It doesn't move, for a second. Two. Three.

And then the Rosette Yearner opens her eyes.

All he has to do is perfect the process.

The Yearner reaches a trembling hand up to her head, pursuing her lips in thoughtful silence. She blinks, slowly- once, twice. The silence is finally broken when she speaks, a trembling lilt, her words falling like petals from their stem.

"I'm alive.”

It's cold, unfeeling, distant. Like she's only talking about the weather.

Caeru's first attempt at artificial life, The False Yearner- she who would later be dubbed The Vake Yearner- is a complicated figure. Born out of an insanely long RP exchange with @superoffbatter, she is a ghost in all but name. A failed attempt to replicate a certain Scoundrel's past self, all while her makers were unaware that her and the Scoundrel were one in the same.

Except while the Scoundrel pursued ambitions of power, glory, and transformation, the Yearner ultimately took a different path. A darker path.

The Yearner stumbles over the mirror as they both exit through the window of the Royal Bethlehem. She sighs. "Where to go, now?" she whispers. "I can't stay here. I don't want to stay like this. I want to... do something."

The Silverer shrugs. "It's up to you. I suppose you could hunt the Vake if all else fails?" It's an offhandedly thrown joke, but the Yearner stops moving.

She considers it in her head. She takes a deep breath.

The Vake, huh. The Vake.

She became an avid hunter of the Neath's most infamous monster.

Her relationship with her creator is strained at best. For the most part, they've refused to acknowledge each other- they've hardly even spoken since the incident of her creation, save for a brief yet notable encounter at the Captivating Princess' last masquerade ball.

Someone steps closer to the Scientist, staring him in the eyes. The atmosphere grows colder.

It's a woman in a large fur-trimmed overcoat, with thick gloves and a staggeringly realistically furred marsh-wolf mask. The cosmogone shade of her eyes reveals her identity- the False Yearner- or, as some have taken to call her, the Vake-Yearner. The mask, now that the Scientist gives it a better look, is very obviously made from a real marsh-wolf, but the expert skill behind it... it's Snuffer-made.

The Yearner got a Snuffer to pull off a wolf's face for her. How curious.

"My other self's fiancé." she says, in a monotone. "And their pet Drownie. How curious. How droll."

The Scientist's face may be hidden behind a mask, but nothing could ever hope to conceal his alarmed blanch, the widening of his eyes, the shift of his stance- distinctly defensive, like a prey animal ready to flee at any moment.

"Yearner." his tone is one of forced detachment. "I never took you as someone who'd.. enjoy this sort of thing."

A glance to the side, where violant eyes (albeit from a distance) still gleam amidst the other invitees. Their mask is smiling, even if their lips are pulled into a wickedly fanged frown.

His mask tips downward. He doesn't retract this statement.

It ended... well. Shall we say. Poorly.

He is allowed in the scene- and witnesses the frozen corpses.

Dead, for sure, though how permanent it will be is yet to be tested. A thin layer of frost clings to their skin, and the scene is obviously filled with signs of struggle. Eight bodies, all trying to leave the room as they were cut down- all trying to escape.

Signs of a blunt instrument. Some of them were smashed against the walls, against the ground- one had both arms torn off. Frozen splatters of blood cover the walls.

The Yearner is nowhere to be seen.

The Yearner, after all, is what can best be described as an immortal and unmelting Noman, sustaining herself off of nothing but sorrow and human hearts. Her very existence is built upon blood and misery. She thrives off it. Needs it to survive, to live, to flourish.

Nobody deserves that kind of existence. Not even the Scoundrel's very own doppelganger.

But she's alive. And she did come back from some sort of death, hellish and ironic and false as it may be. It can be done.

The Scientist has done it before.

He can do it again.

He will do it again.

And so Caeru works. And works. And works.

To serve. To fix. To help. Finally, he's going to rectify his mistake, going to make everything better, going to give his lover the life he knows they deserve. This is a noble service. A noble obligation. The last attempt may have failed, but this- this cannot fail- he will not let himself fail, not again, not ever.

And nothing can stand in his way. Nothing except-

"Caeru?" a voice can be heard, knocking on the door to the Scientist's laboratory. "Are you there?"

Were one to look through the one-way glass window, they would see the Silverer, looking worried. "Where were you?" she says. "I haven't seen you all week. What has got you locked in there?" she taps again, more hurried-

-His current paramour, The Snowswept Silverer.

A loud crash echoes at the Silverer's sixth knock. Someone curses. The door slams open harsh enough to send her flinching back, the Scientist standing in the doorway with a look of pure vitriol- then, far slower than his typical reaction speed, his fury ebbs.

"Louise." his voice is gratingly hoarse, his hair tied in a half-hazard bun via a thoroughly exhausted ribbon struggling to keep the strands together (it would be a cute look, if not for the blue hue in his cheeks and the blood and dirt caking his arms). His laboratory is- cold. Blisteringly cold. He's barely even shivering, but- surely it can't be healthy, staying in there for so long-?

"I'm... working." he stresses the word as though it's an obvious and irrefutable explanation. "Can we talk in-" he looks back, "A month?" he has the audacity to pause thoughtfully. "Two?"

And thus the preamble concludes, and the pieces and players of our play all finally fall into place.

"...Caeru, I’m not stupid." Louise replies, giving him a throughly unimpressed look. "Is this yet another Yearner situation?"

The accompanying dumbfounded expression that her paramour produces would cause her some amount of delight, were this any other situation. As it is, she is simply more worried- and a fair bit annoyed, as well. "Yes, I know you were involved with her creation, somehow. You and the Academic were rather obvious about it. Whatever you've been doing inside this laboratory, Caeru, it's not nearly as discreet as you think it is. You have a budget, and whenever you ask for it to be extended or spend carelessly on a new batch of supplies, people see it happen-”

Her paramour squirms uncomfortably. She continues her rant unabated.

“-The GHR is in fact a major supplier of experimental materials for the University. As long as it's an import from the Hinterlands, I know what comes in here and what comes out. And I know for sure a certain Yearner has also been looking around your laboratory. I would have left you to your devices, but this will lead to a disaster if I don't interfere."

Her hand- which he notices is clawed- is putting quite a lot of pressure on his shoulder. "Tell me, Caeru. What have you been doing?"

He gulps. The look in her eyes is... serpentine in its wrath, even. Like a Knot who's just caught a scout from the Court of Cats intruding into its home. It's a look that demands an account.

His expression twists- regret, guilt, frustration, desperation. "Louise," he says softly, "Please, just- just give me more time. A week or two more, and- and this will all be done and over with. You'll never have to hear about it again. Please."

He tries to shy away from her hand and take a step back- it's not exactly successful, given his strength relative to hers. His hands tremble. His arms are slick and ruby red- weeping scars, never bandaged-

"I don't want to fight you." a rustle, as one hand drifts down to his pocket, so quiet as to be barely noticeable. "Please." he begs again. "Please don't make me fight you. It's not like the Yearner, it's- it's important, I can't just- please don't make me. Please."

Needless to say, things quickly go from bad to worse.

"Go ahead. Fight her." another voice, intensely recognizable, echoes through the corridor. The Scoundrel's voice- but colder. Less shrill. Less amused. "She won't leave you alone, and neither will I."

The Yearner stands there. Her feathery black dress is covered in blood- fresh. Going by the faint gurgling sounds, someone tried to block her way- and she reacted as she often does.

"I could feel something happening down here. I didn't know what it was, but it felt... important. Thank you for the confirmation that it was very important indeed." she steps forward. In her hand is a large spike of ice, the size of a sword. "Will you let me see it, Caeru? Or shall I tell your husband of what you’ve done? Of how I came to be? I still have that to hold over you, at least. I wonder if they would like to know what happened to that cufflink." the word is hissed, and she smiles in delight at the way he flinches.

(It's... so recognizable, Caeru realizes, and yet so twisted. They sound completely identical. If one were to ignore the face made of ice, they would even be able to identify the similarities- and the sharp differences. It's a little bit disquieting, to see her face. The Scoundrel does... does not make this kind of expression, even at their worst. The only kind of person who does is a certain Mr Veils. It's the sort of look only someone who delights in misery shows.)

He has no other options. No other way out.

He will not fail again. He will never let himself fail again.

A thousand possibilities run through his mind, all at once, before he can even so much as blink. The window- no. The door- terrifyingly fragile. The mirrors- if they weren't already swarming with serpents, he'd be shocked. No solution comes without violence, without- he can't lose again, he can't leave again, he-

The Scientist draws fast as a lightning bolt and shoots his paramour square in the chest, flipping the pistol and shooting a second time for good measure. The desperate scream of his apology can barely be heard over the slam of the door, the clicking of several dozen locks, the mad dash to retrieve something before what little safety he has inevitably gives way.

His prize is bundled in rags, apocyan soaking through the white cloth, pieces of shattered diamond and wood clippings scattered half-hazardly all over the floor-

Run. Run.

Thus the infamous girlfriend shooting incident. Don't worry, she gets better. For the most part.

Everyone else, well... they get substantially worse.

The Scientist acts on instinct, cradling his experiment against his chest. Not again. Never again. He turns when the door inevitably gives way and fires again, futile as it may be.

The bullet does not do much- not when the door is promptly kicked off its hinges, the locks snapping and shattering as the sheer force of the Yearner's kick propels it forward. In that moment, Caeru realizes that while the door was very secure, the frame is nothing but a few planks of wood. It wouldn't hold.

On the floor, bleeding profusely through the wound in her neck (though the ambery growths around it show it will be closing soon, whether it wants to or not), is the Silverer- who stares at the Yearner in horror. "This was not our deal." she hisses.

The Yearner shrugs. "I don't care."

And then she lunges for her prize like a woman possessed. Her eyes gleam, staring fixedly at the bundle in the Scientist's arms. "Either you tell me what that bundle is and why I feel so intensely that I need to see it, or I'll make you tell me." she purrs. "Make the choice, my dear creator.”

He desperately curls around the bundle, hugging it close enough for it to nearly bend under his grip- nearly. Whatever it is, it's sturdier than it looks.

"You can't take him." he gasps without thinking. "You can't- you can't take him, you can't hurt him, you can't-" he backs up against the wall and trembles. The weight makes him stagger with every step. When the Yearner approaches, he flinches. "You can't hurt him."

A delirious sob. The room is freezing. His skin is tinted such a vibrant shade of blue. It's a miracle he isn't already dead from hypothermia. Slowly, carefully, still keeping his gun aimed at the Yearner, his other hand pulls back part of the cloth- and the hand that dangles free is clawed and formed almost entirely from lacre.

Just like her.

"He's mine." Caeru whispers, pressing his head to the apocyan stains with equal parts guilt and adoration. "He's mine. And nobody will ever take him again."

The Silverer stumbles into the room, a gun in hand. The Yearner waves dismissively- and fractal spikes of ice erupt from the ground to block her advance. From the mirrors in the room, Fingerkings hiss and spit in fury- the Yearner should probably stay away from Parabola for a few weeks. She turns to look at the Scientist in disdain.

"Bringing back the dead." she spits. "Once again. You should know it gets you nowhere. Look at what you did before. You tried to return me to the world, when I wasn't ever real at all!" she yells. "An illusion. A dream! Delusions of high society and bohemian dreams of a waif that was never anything but a facade!" she roars, coming closer. "Who was it this time?! Tell me! Who was-”

She pauses, before smiling. It is not a nice smile. "Your lover, wasn't it? The seventh victim. Did you realize that killing Mr Cups would never return what you lost!?"

The words sting. They sting, because she doesn't know, how could she know. Her eyes are wild and mad. "Drop it. Let it go. You don't deserve to have them back.”

The Scientist chokes on a sob. He doesn't deny a word. His knees buckle- he slides down to the floor, holding the bundle like a lifeline and a precious piece of treasure, all rolled into one. "I know." his voice is calm, even with the tears sliding down his cheeks. "I don't deserve him."

He's- the Silverer recognizes the look in his eyes. He's never been more confident about anything else in the world.

"I'm not doing this for myself," the words ring slightly hollow when he's clinging to his creation on the floor, "I'm doing it for him. When Cups died, it-" his tone wavers. Caeru swallows. The despair and guilt in his voice is intoxicating, especially to a Noman standing so very close indeed.

"It begged for its life. It gave me an offer. It could bring him back, if I spared it." he looks beyond the Yearner- staring intently at a shadow on the wall, as though somehow it could stare back. "I couldn't- I couldn't, for everyone else it murdered, I couldn't-" he chokes. "I failed him. I failed him. He deserved to live, he deserved to come back- and I failed, and-"

He kicks at a spare diamond on the floor, watching it twist and freeze into place within moments of making contact with the Yearner. "I'm fixing it. I'm fixing him."

A kiss to his prize. To his magnum opus. His eyes stay fixed on it- nothing matters so long as it is in his arms. "I'm serving him. I'm fixing him."

🐈💙🐺

"No." the Yearner snarls. "No, you're not fixing him. I'll be the one doing that. Give him to me!"

She moves before he can say a word. Only a Licenciate's instincts save his head from being separated from its shoulders by a sharpened spike of ice. He dives out of the way of a furious flurry of stabs, and stumbles to keep hold of his prize- only to see the Yearner tear off her dress in front of him.

He blinks in disbelief before seeing it- connected to her body are numerous pulsating hearts. The blood vessels tear holes in the thin shirt she wore underneath, and wet the fabric in frozen blood. Nourishing her as they draw ever closer to death. How many people have been killed- perhaps permanently- to sustain her existence?

She grins wickedly, cosmogone eyes shining with Parabolan light. "You won't bring him back. Cups wouldn't have done it either, I'm sure. The Masters have experience with bringing the dead back- done it five times now. But it never works, not really, does it?" she spits out the words. "You don't know what it's like. To live knowing you are a failure. A failed attempt to bring someone ELSE back!? Do you want him to live like this, you bastard?! Give him to me. I'll give him life- his own life! He doesn't deserve to be the monument to your vanity!”

🐈💙🐺 🔫⛄

“You barely know how-" the Scientist curses and ducks around another flurry, flailing in a desperate attempt to keep his 'lover' close. He ducks and weaves around the room with expert precision- but his movements are more than slightly hindered by the weight of a corpse larger than he is tall. That... no, that can't be right-

"He won't be a failure." Caeru spits back, pressed against the spikes still binding the Silverer- can't she hear, some part of his mind wonders? What does she think of him? Of what he's done?

He gasps for air that comes stiff and frozen solid. His pistol is long-since discarded- useless, now, but he can't help looking at it and swallowing down his guilt. All the more reason to throw himself down the nearest well, really. At least it's worth it. At least he's worth it. At least it'll all be over soon.

"He's not finished, he's not fixed yet-" he dives away from yet another attempt to spear him in the head. "Do you really think I'd attempt the same experiment twice without learning from my mistakes?! He'll be better. He'll be- he'll be different. He'll be everything." he sounds utterly delirious. "He'll be everything you were meant to be."

The Yearner hisses- and her blade moves for the Scientist's neck with unbelievable speed. There will be no dodging this one. Encumbered as he is, he has to drop the bundle if he wants to dodge- and that he will never do. He closes his eyes-

And only opens them a second later, after the sound of flesh being cleaved resounds. He is- he is not on the slow boat. He sees the Silverer before him, blocking the Yearner's blade with her own arm. A steady trickle of blood is falling from the grievous-looking wound- the cut was such that it exposed the bone.

"Oh, hello. Does it hurt?" the Yearner remarks.

"Not... at all." the Silverer scoffs.

"What if I do this?"

The Noman wriggles her arm and the blade twitches on the spot it's stuck on. The Silverer yelps and wrenches herself free, before falling. There are holes torn all over her legs- even the Shapeling Arts couldn't hold back the blood loss indefinitely. She collapses, overwhelmed by pain. The sound that emerges from the Scientist's throat is one of near-inhuman agony.

For no reason in particular: Did you know Caeru's biggest fear is watching his loved ones die in front of him (especially while he's unable to save them?)

The Yearner laughs. "Guess it's just the two of us again. Now, hand it over. Or I'll tear your arms off.”

Caeru drops the bundle without thinking, kneeling over the Silverer and cradling her in his arms, barely acknowledging the Yearner's presence. Louise's name is all but chanted under his breath- he struggles to breathe. Blood soaks through his coat. Her head is held close against his heart. His hands scramble to stop the bleeding, to fix her, to save her, to- to-

His head darts up as the Yearner takes a step towards the bundle. His eyes are wide. An utterly distraught sob. He doesn't stop her. He only turns back to his (still living) paramour and desperately tries to keep her that way.

"Idiot." he mumbles into the Silverer's hair, still on the verge of delirium. "You didn't need to- you didn't-"

And thus, the Yearner wins this round. But the story isn't over quite yet.

He looks back just long enough to glare up at the Yearner. He spits. "I should've fed you to the Knot of Tails when I had the chance."

"You should have." the Yearner nods. "I agree on that, now."

She kicks the Scientist square in the jaw. Her delicate shoe goes flying off into the distance, and she leaps for the bundle. Before the Scientist can recover from his daze, she rips the cloth around it, and then her arm moves for one of the hearts in her chest- tearing it off in one clean motion. Blood- deathly cold- sprays everywhere. She shoves the heart into the chest of the Scientist's project, and it- horror of horrors- twitches. It opens its eyes, and gasps- before once again falling into utter silence.

"It worked." she grins. "That's what it needs, right? Life. You've been working with mountain-sherds, trying to breathe life into it- but you don't know anything. You don't know what you are doing, you've been getting nowhere. Your love needs life to come back. Life has to come from somewhere."

The many hearts on her body twitch and wriggle as she turns to leave, the body still in her hands, bathing her in apocyan light. "Don't worry. I have a lot of life to give."

She runs off, and Caeru can see-

The body is half-lacre, half-skeletal, and all mannequin. A horror of sable wood casings enveloping the lacre beneath like a shield, virtually impossible to separate without ripping it all apart. His chest is exposed just enough to betray the underlying array of cracked ribs, and inside lays a diamond shining brilliant apocyan. The light floods his body and leaks freely out of an exposed, half-finished eyesocket.

He's sturdier than the Yearner, clearly. Built to last. Built to survive. Not an accident, like she was, but something else entirely. He shudders, white hair flowing in waves down to her feet- his hands dig into her shoulders on instinct.

He meets Caeru’s eyes. He doesn't say a word.

Caeru watches them go, and tries not to scream. He fails spectacularly.

He stumbles to his feet, still cradling his paramour- he takes one step after them, then sobs. The Silverer twitches in his arms. His mind races.

If he leaves her, if he fails again, if he-

He turns tail and shoves coils of hissing Fingerkings aside, ducking into Parabola as the Yearner escapes. He'll regroup, he swears, he'll come back, he'll fix this, he'll fix everything, he'll-

He sets his paramour down and frantically sets about bandaging her wounds. The past can wait. He only has one Louise.

"I love you." he whispers uselessly. "I'm sorry. I love you. I'm so sorry-"

The Scientist's involvement in this tale ends here- left with many regrets, many things to answer for, and many wounds to try and heal.

Some, he succeeds at. Others, he does not.

But this was never about him in particular.

Far away is the Yearner, retreating to a lair in the swamps. A knock on the door, two knocks- and the Scarred Naturalist looks at her in disbelief. "What on earth is that?"

She enters, and places the body on the dining table without a word, knocking wooden plates and silverware (a strange contrast, indeed) aside. The body twitches, the sole heart connected to its chest pulsating madly as it slowly but surely withers into nothing. Her hand hovers over a cracked rib.

"We'll have to find replacements." she whispers.

The Naturalist shrugs. He doesn't know what this is all about, but he supports her interests, as always. He finds the Yearner is a surprisingly good influence on his master. Why, the master of silks has been startingly cheery since they've started their rivalry. "The swamp will provide," he notes. "Plenty of bodies around.

The Yearner nods. "Tell Veils I'm calling in that favour, too. It can provide far better materials than that fool of a scientist could. Ask it for wood- sturdy. Elder Continent- something that soaks in the light of the Mountain." she pauses. "Keep him safe. The box of hearts is under my bed- feed one to him every hour. I'll be leaving. I believe Fires had a shipment of apocyan lanterns sent over to Varchas? Surely nobody will notice if I take one..”

She takes a heavy coat, and steps out of the shack. She has a mission.

-

The body does not move for... quite some time. It merely stares up at the ceiling in idle bafflement, digging its claws into the table. It opens its mouth. All that emerges is a sickening click-

He closes his mouth. The heart shudders, and he goes with it. He rolls to his left and spends minutes on end staring at his hands in open fascination- another click.

He twists the joints on his fingers. He lifts his head, and while he may not have proper eyes- the empty stare of his eyesocket and the sickening glow of the apocyan leaking from his face is nothing short of disturbing.

He watches at the Naturalist for a long moment. Another click, as he opens his mouth, and then closes it. A claw unwisely pokes around the heart on his chest, another hand gesturing vaguely to the house around it. Finally, it manages to croak in a low rumble, like an oncoming storm- "Where?"

The Naturalist raises an eyebrow. "Bugsby's Marshes." at the confused look he gets back, he raises it further. "Watchmaker's Hill?" a pause. "The Fifth City, Fallen London? The Neath?" he chuckles. "My my. You're quite uninformed. I suppose it's just fair..."

He walks over to a cabinet, and takes out- is that skin? Human skin. A face. "You've just been born, haven't you?" He offers the face. It's fair-skinned and pudgy. He grins devilishly. "Perhaps a trip to the city would alert your senses."

(The Yearner didn't say he had to stay in the cabin. Just that he had to be kept safe- and that he needed the hearts.)

The Naturalist looks at the homunculus in front of him expectantly, and smiles again. It's not a nice smile.

The body's own face is carved from wood, and thus, cannot blanch- but its face certainly does scrunch up in noticeable revulsion. "No thank you." he says quickly, practically shoving it away. "I'm," he pauses, "Not, hungry?"

He reaches up- the heart beats faster. His finger dips into his eye. He could swallow, if he knew how. He sits up and stares down at his own body in obvious bafflement.

London. He's in London. In... what was it? Bugsby's Hill? This must be a dream.

He slides off the table, trips over his own hair, and falls facefirst onto the ground with a loud thud. A very strange dream indeed.

"...a trip would be appreciated, thank you..." oddly polite, for a newborn homunculus. If a bit laughable.

"My, you're clearly not fine." the Naturalist says. "And you can't go out like this, either way. I'll find you a suit. I have... one." the fact it belonged to someone the Yearner had hunted and killed probably doesn't matter. "Hm. But it's not your size. Maybe..."

He leaves the room to fetch something while the homunculus twitches on the ground. The body practically claws his way up to the wall as he tries once more to get his footing. 'Practically', of course, meaning 'leaves stark grooves in the wallpaper as though he was a particularly rambunctious kitten'.

Finally, the Naturalist returns with a cloak- torn in several places and repaired with careful carelessness. A trophy of war, a legendarily expensive article of clothing torn from the body of a Master and carefully, extensively defaced. Reworked and remade. He offers it.

"Thank you." a stiff sigh as he wraps the cloak around himself, tugging the hood over his head without a second thought. The illusion of anonymity is only slightly marred by the apocyan glow and uncomfortable resemblance to a Master of the Bazaar.

One hesitant step, then another. One more, for good measure. The homunculus looms above the Naturalist, voice rattling like gravel. "Who did you say you were..?" he looks at the door. "You and that- ah. Ice...? Ice. Woman. With the. Eyes." his tone reeks of disbelief.

"Quite tall..." the Scarred Naturalist mutters. "Ah, well. I am a Scarred Naturalist, just a humble scholar living here after my... let us call it an involuntary exile from academia. Unfortunately, prejudice tends to get in the way of scientific advancement... no matter." he coughs. "My associate is the Yearner, a hunter living on the marshes in search of a particularly elusive beast. She brought you here. Given by your state you must have been in quite a situation! Do you remember anything in particular? Have you an address to return to, perhaps?"

The body tilts his head roughly 45 degrees and ponders for a moment. "I run an inn," he looks up, vain as it may be, "Quite far from here. My, ahem, business partner- last I recall, I was bidding him farewell for the morning..."

He trails off and stares into space, not lost in any specific memory, but simply caught in a wave of utter bafflement at the holes in his own mind. "Next I remember, I was carried here by the Yearner. And now I look like-"

He stops, and raises a hand once again. The lacre coats his palms- fresh, vulnerable spots where his mannequin-like casing has not yet been applied. The apocyan dims. "-Like, this." he stands in silence for a long minute. His gaze, though unreadable, is inevitably drawn back to the face- the. Face.

He takes a step back. "Well! Now that I think about it! I really must be going!" he spins on his feet and twists the doorknob with forced cheer, barely able to keep the tremors out of his voice. "It was lovely meeting you, I'm quite grateful for your assistance, tell your associate she's a delight, but if you can just direct me to the nearest path back upwards-?"

He smiles. His mouth is full of uneven, half-formed teeth. "I'd hate to take up too much of your time. I'm sure you're busy doing... busy marsh things."

"Upwards...?" the Naturalist mutters. There's a grudge here. "Never been upwards." he says, too low for the homunculus to hear at all. "Not like they'd take us. The sun hates us more then Stone does. No, no path upwards for me…”

He composes himself, and gives his conversation partner an amused look. "I am loath to inform you, but there is no path upwards. Have you seen yourself, young man? The sun would scour you utterly. To ashes. It does not take kindly to Neathy things- and perhaps you should take a look at yourself? Thoroughly Neathy, that body of yours."

He reveals a mirror, and on it, the cloaked shadow can finally see his face. He tugs down his hood and stares. He's quiet for a time. A trembling hand caresses his cheek (hollow and wooden and false), then scratches at his beard (snow-white and soft as silk), then traces along his scars (carved deliberately and carefully into his face, as though replicating something that was already there).

The Naturalist continues, regardless of his guest's confusion. He sounds quite amused by the whole affair. "Do not worry. I am sure my roommate could not let you go without a shelter for the night- and when you wake up, Penstock's Land Agency will be ready and waiting. We could find you a home here- and perhaps arrange for mail to the Cumaean Canal? I'm sure that ‘business partner’ of yours might have explanations for what happened- and for these apparent gaps in your memory."

A soft sound escapes the body's mouth, indecipherable. He brings a hand up to the apocyan-lit hole in his left eye- and flinches on instinct when his claws dip into it with ease. "Thoroughly..."

There's awe, yes. Horror, most certainly. A hint of amazement. Most of all, complete and utter bafflement.

"But- I have people to get back to, I can't just-" he blinks. "Mail... that. Would be appreciated, yes. Thank you kindly." he looks back at the door. Without speaking, he steps outside- and stops, staring up at the false stars in open awe.

One tentative step, then another. He marvels at the world like a newborn babe.

"What is this?" he doesn't particularly expect an answer. "What... am I?"

The city is alive. Even at this hour, Watchmaker's Hill bustles with activity.

The Starved Embassy's ambered glow and the visitors from the Roof who walk the streets, the Clay Men who pass in stoic silence- the hawkers, the conmen offering rostygold for whoever beats them at arm-wrestling (hiding brass tacks between their fingers as they brag about their prowess), the marksmanship competitions for prizes of jade! The scholars debating the nature of the stars, taking blind steps towards the observatories. The criers announce Feducci's fighting rings, the chittering of surprisingly articulate insects and the growling of the marsh-beasts.

Fallen London stands before the Shadow in all its glory, this strange and wild city of a thousand stories. It gazes at him with mirth.

The Shadow gazes back.

He tugs up his hood and strolls along in absolute wonder- his hand dwarfs a wrestler's own as he pins their arm with ease, barely noticing tacks against wooden 'skin'. His voice is eager and enthralled as astronomers entertain each and every one of his questions about the 'stars' in the 'sky'. A sorrow spider creeps up his elbow- he plucks it by the leg and dangles it in front of his eyes. A half-hearted smile. It disappears into his cloak, and does not return.

Everyone gives him a wide berth, but if this bothers him, he doesn't voice it. This must be a dream- it is a dream, surely, but even so, there's no harm in enjoying it while it lasts.

He'll wake up eventually. He'll see his partner eventually.

Anxiety dies as he stops on the edge of a hill and gazes up at the firmament. London's invitation is easy to accept- after all, in a city of a thousand stories, surely an explanation lies within one.

Barely glancing at the Naturalist behind him, he wanders off into London's heart. Lacre trails in his wake.

It's a beautiful day to be alive.

[waterfallofspace]

Hii I hope you feel better soon, and I have a question!, idk if anyone's asked you this before but what's your fav content to make?

Aw, thanks!~

I did answer this before, but I'm happy to answer again, since I have a bit of a different view! I think my favourite content to make is writing fics~ I do love drawing too, but I'm not good enough yet to be fully satisfied with what I've created. And while I enjoy wavs, I'd say probably the same, my skills aren't where I'd want them to be, plus it takes me a bit to record enough snz to make it work.

But I've always loved writing, and while I don't think I'm great at it, I can usually get something that at least somewhat meets my own standards, plus it's just a lot of fun to me!

[slytherinslut0]

MATTHEO RIDDLE ONESHOT- We Aren’t Over

VOTERS RESULT FROM MY POLL<3 XOXO ENJOY

Info: FWB gets jealous seeing you kiss another guy at a party after the two of you had called things off.

Word count: 4.5k

Tags: 18+, PURE SMUT, PIV, FWB, Praise Kink, Degradation Kink, Begging, Teasing, Jealousy, Threats of Violence, Good Sex

"You look so fucking sexy..."

large hands belonging to an admittedly handsome Ravenclaw student that you failed to acquire the name of gripped your hips; firmly pulling you against his tall body as his lips grazed your ear, hot whiskey breath washing over you, intoxicating you even further than you already were.

One hand slid around to your ass, gripping a palmful of the plump flesh over the fabric of your Slytherin uniform skirt. Your breath hitched in your throat as he nipped your earlobe, teeth tugging gently on your emerald earring, his voice a low reverberation down your spine.

"I'd love to rip that awful fucking uniform off of you and get a taste of what you're hiding under there..."

Your cheeks burned, warmth flooding you as you chewed on your lip, bringing your mouth toward his own ear now as the two of you could hardly hear yourselves think amidst the blaring music coming from the speakers in the out-of-control Friday night Slytherin party, green flashing lights blurring your vision further than the alcohol was as you squinted to try and get a better glimpse of his face.

In your intoxicated state, you couldn't recognize this guy for the life of you. The only thing that gave away his Ravenclaw status was his uniform.

"I'd be careful with your next words there, little Raven," you purred, your unsteady fingers finding his shoulders. "I promise you, you'll regret coming into my house and disrespecting my emblem like that..."

Gods, you were fucking hammered, but since you and your friends-with-benefits had called things off last weekend; you'd been desperate to find someone new to hopefully satisfy you just as well as he did--but admittedly, your hopes were low.

Not many boys knew your body like the back of their hand, or knew exactly how to drive you sexually insane, the way Mattheo fucking Riddle did.

"Is that so?" His grip on your body tightened, a deep groan leaving his throat as he pressed his lips to your jaw. "I'm not quite sure a poor little serpent like you is any match for a big bad raven like me..."

"You'd be surprised," you retorted, slowly threading your fingers through his thick brown hair. "It's been proven that even the most intelligent birds couldn't elude the cunning serpent's snare..." you tilted your head, smirking. "But go on, underestimate me...that'll be fun."

His eyes widened, the darkness inside his pupils boring into you, drowning you in their endless voids. Your stomach twisted as your sight locked in with his, and you took a moment to analyze his features a little better. Gods, he looked so fucking much like Mattheo.

Why was it that you could never seem to get that fucking guy out of your head?

You were convinced that you were going to die one day with his gorgeous fucking face still haunting you--those dark penetrating eyes, that devilish, seductive smirk--that messy mop of chocolate curls that sat effortlessly adorable over his forehead. Fuck, you hated him.

You hated him for fucking you so good you couldn't stop fucking thinking about him; even after the endless bickering and arguing the two of you had been going through over the last few weeks, causing a consensual end to your hookups--you hated him for occupying your mind even while you were pressed up against an undeniably sexy new guy, who clearly had a deep interest in you, who clearly wanted to fuck you until your legs gave out.

You should be happy right now, you should be overly fucking ecstatic, practically brimming with relief as the Ravenclaw guy leaned in, pressing his lips to yours and capturing your mouth in a sloppy, intoxicated kiss; his tongue slipping past your teeth as his hands gripped your ass with enough force to bruise--you should be completely fucking overjoyed as your lids fluttered shut, your mouths working over the others with a little too much desperation as you stood in the middle of the crowded common room, fervent fingers gripping onto each other as though your lives depended on it.

You should be happy, but you're not.

When you broke the kiss, the Ravenclaws brows furrowed, but before he had a chance to ask you to his dorm, and in a hopeful attempt at subtly saving yourself, you brought your lips toward his ear, trying to sound as sexy and inconspicuous as possible. "Why don't you get us some drinks?"

When he smirked, nodding in agreement, he graced your ass with one last squeeze before he spun around, making his way across the room and heading toward the bar station. You watched him as he went, and as soon as he had disappeared within the sea of inebriated bodies; you let out a long, exasperated breath; spinning on your heel to quickly make your way to the bathroom and away from that spot before he returned.

Sure, you felt bad for ditching him like that, but he was just as drunk as you were. He'd forget you even existed by the morning.

As you shoved your way through the endless amounts of drunk, sweaty bodies, you'd almost successfully broke through the crowd when a strong, firm grip wrapped around your wrist; hot breath washing over your neck as a tall body pressed against your backside--a height so towering and presence so intoxicating you already knew, without hearing his voice or seeing his face, that it could only be one fucking man.

"Where you headed, princess?" Mattheo's deep, husky drawl rolled through your eardrums like honey; a slow, thick, and admittedly fucking seductive pitch. "You're not really going to ditch that poor bastard after getting him going like that, are you?"

You turned your head, trying to glimpse him over your shoulder, fighting to hide your smirk. "I don't see how that's any of your business, Riddle."

"Ouch...one week without my cock and we're already back to second name basis, huh?" His grip tightened, his body heat enveloping you, his plush lips pressed tight against your ear. "I'm just surprised...you looked like you were enjoying yourself."

"Stalking me, are you?" You scoffed, trying to pry your wrist from his hold but he tightened his grip even further, other hand snaking around to your hip. "Is the big heartless Riddle boy jealous?"

He chuckled, and you could almost see the smirk on his lips. The feeling of his chest rumbling against your back did inexplicable things to your cunt. Gods, you hated how you were already fucking melting for him and you haven't even taken one single look at his face.

"Were you thinking about me?" He purred, teeth nipping at your ear, the arrogance in his tone igniting flames in your veins. "When his tongue was halfway down your fucking throat, were you wishing it was mine?"

"Give me a break, Mattheo." Your head was spinning, oxygen evaporating; but you knew you needed to play it off. "Don't fucking flatter yourself."

"You know you love the things I fucking did to you..." by this point his voice was a low growl, his tone so deep and dark in your ear it sent shudders skittering down your spine. "You know you'll search for me in every single sad sack you try to distract yourself with."

Heat flashed your face, his fingers digging into your hip with enough force to bruise. "Jealous of a Ravenclaw...must be a tough pill to swallow for the Slytherin prince-"

When his teeth sunk into your earlobe with enough force to basically tell you to shut up without actually saying it, you yelped--eyes fluttering shut as he tugged you back against him with added force.

"Keep talking, princess, and I won't hesitate to walk over there and rearrange his fucking face..." he spat the words through barred teeth, your bones shaking with the deep vibration. "Do you even know his name? Huh? Do you even know who the fuck he is?"

Gods, you were cursing yourself. As if you were about to fold for this man after he'd basically told you to fuck off and leave him alone no less than a week ago. Your brain knew, above all else, that what you were about to do was completely fucking wrong--but your cunt paid no mind to your brains protests. Your cunt wanted Mattheo Riddle.

"No, Matty, I don't..." you whispered, tilting your head to give him better access to you neck. "Lots of night left, though...I'm sure I'll be quite familiar with it when I'm screaming-"

He sunk his teeth into your neck now, forcing a sharp squeal from your lips--another commanding gesture to silently warn you that if you kept talking, he was going to fucking lose it. Part of you hoped he would.

"What have I told you about saying my fucking name like that, princess..." he growled, licking a flat strip up the side of your throat. Fuck, you loved that tongue. That skilled, tentative fucking tongue. "And if you keep talking like that, the only thing you'll be screaming is for me to stop when I'm beating his fucking face into the floor..."

His words made you fucking shudder, a full body tremor against his built chest, entirely unable to control yourself now. The need between your thighs was becoming more insistent by the second, and at this point--you were at a complete loss for words; your lips involuntarily uttering the one word you knew you'd never forget how to say, regardless of how speechless you were.

His name. "Mattheo..."

"There she is..." he murmured, the praise in his tone making your breath hitch in your lungs. "Aren't you glad you met me? I know you got me stuck inside your memory..."

Long fingers slipped under the fabric of your shirt, grazing over your stomach. Bodies were everywhere, drunk students around you paying absolutely no mind to the intoxicated sins the two of you were about to commit.

"No," you uttered, so quiet you weren't even sure if he'd heard it. "I want you out of my fucking head..."

He purred in satisfaction, revelling in the fact you'd finally admitted to missing him. "Should've listened to me, princess...told you I was bad for you..."

More heat swarmed you, your thighs screaming; begging in need. "We can't keep doing this...it's so wrong, Matty..."

"But it feels so right, doesn't it?" His hand around your wrist snuck down to your hip, his other pressed against your stomach; pulling you tighter against his crotch--your breath evaporated when you felt his aggressive bulge against your ass. "Feel that, princess? That's what you fucking do to me..."

He pressed his lips to your pulse, teeth softly grazing over it, and you mewled; head falling back against his shoulder, body melting into his own--surrendering yourself to his intoxicating dominance just as you've done time and time before.

"I hate myself for letting you do this to me..." you breathed, head rolling to the side as his teeth worked purple possession marks into your skin. "I'm so stupid for you..."

"That's it, admit it, baby...admit that you missed this..." his grip tightened, tone thickened with lust. "You're my little devil, you know I'd sin for you..."

At his words, your entire body ignited into pure fucking flame, magma replacing the blood that flowed through your veins; threatening to melt your uniform and leaving you in nothing more than a pile of ash at his feet. You were done talking, you needed his fucking cock.

"Are we gonna quit the talking and do something about it then, hm?" You purred, tilting your head back to meet his eyes for the first time; your head spinning as you drowned in the dark hurricane of their desire. "Show me how you'd sin for me, Matty..."

"I'll show you, baby, I'll fucking show you..." he said, wetting his lips as he held your stare. "Your dorm or mine?"

Music to your fucking ears. "Yours."

Without another word, Mattheo gripped your wrist, his hold like a snake, slithering around you gently at first; slowly increasing its pressure until he'd cut the blood flow, threatening suffocation of your lungs and leaving you with only hungry, primal desire--eradicating all thoughts of just how horrible of an idea you knew this was. He dragged you out of the common room and toward his dorm, not sparing you a single glance as he ripped open the door and pulled you inside; slamming your back up against it as it closed, one hand snaking toward the lock and clicking it tight into place.

When he paused, two hands finding residence against the wood on either side of your head; not moving, only staring, it was as though the rest of the world faded away--and all that was left was the cunning, messy brown haired boy in front of you. His presence filled the room, suffocating you, stopping your heart mid-beat. He loomed over you, toes centimeters from your own, chest so close that you both would touch with a deep enough breath.

You scanned his body, heart pounding, palms sweating from the impending reality of your desire, and he smirked, leaning closer.

"I don't think I can allow another man to lay a fucking finger on you ever again..." he whispered. "I don't think that perfect fucking pussy can belong to anyone fucking else."

"Since when did it belong to you, Matty?" You shuddered, deciding to test him a bit. "I thought we were just casual-"

"You think anyone else could fuck you stupid like I do?" You could practically feel his fingernails digging into the wood beside your head, the anger building in his eyes. "How about your exes? How'd they fuck you, huh?"

Your throat tightened. "Mattheo-"

"Say it." He growled, leaning closer--so close your noses brushed. "You want me to make you fucking cum, princess? Say that little pussy is mine."

Gods, curse your fucking insatiable need to get fucked. At this point, you were fully cognizant of the fact that this man could make you say damned-near anything if it meant he'd get inside you. Swallowing your ego, you met his stare--as intense as it had ever felt--and licked your lips.

"It's yours, Matty..." you murmured. "It's all yours."

Mattheo Riddle smirked. "That's fucking right."

Unable to decide between indignant and patronized, you eschewed both, and instead opted to hook your fingers into his belt, pulling yourself into him while you boosted yourself on your tiptoes to meet his lips with your own. Your kiss was hungry and demanding as you sought to memorize his mouth with your tongue. Mattheo's large hands cupped your face, fingers delving into your hair while he pressed into you, forcing you back tighter against the door.

You groaned against his lips, writhing underneath him while you slid your tongue along his teeth, seeking to know every part of him, needing him to want you--to fucking need you like you needed him. Mattheo drew in a breath through his nose and pushed deeper, like he wanted to fuse you with the door, and your hands shot into his hair, a shiver running through you as you felt how soft, how luxurious it was between your fingers.

Another soft groan rumbled in your chest, and--having distant, fuzzy deja vu of the countless encounters prior--you wrapped the curly tendrils of his hair around your fingers and yanked it.

At that, a deep moan left his throat, and he pulled back, waves of harsh breath crashing over him. His blackened eyes darted across your face, switching between your lips and eyes. "Fucking naughty little thing..." he huffed, smirking.

"For you, always," you murmured, and he groaned, wetting his lips as he leaned closer.

"Fuck-that's right...I love it when you're bad...you only act this way for me, huh?" His voice was a low purr, warm breath crashing your face. "That why you didn't fuck him? That why you ran?"

Chewing your lip, you nodded, and tugged his hair again, bringing him to your mouth once more.

He smirked against you and his hands fell to your hips, roaming the swell of your curves before gripping the underside of your thighs and hiking you onto the door. Immediately, the aching length in his pants ground into your center while his tongue fought its way into your mouth. Without you having to think, your legs circled him, and your hips were grinding back, pursuing any friction and heat you could find.

You peeled away to catch a breath, hands resting in his hair, and his lips went to work on your neck, suckling and nibbling the skin there.

"Matty...please..." you murmured, already begging for something, anything. "I need you."

Snuffing a groan, Mattheos grip bruised your hips as he bucked into you, grinding you against the door.

"You want me to fuck you, slut?" he said, breath hot on your neck. "Didn't get enough of my cock last time?"

"No-fuck-I didn't," you mewled, a slight embarrassment washing over you. "It's never enough."

Mattheo growled, his grip hardening to iron, and he licked a warm, wet line along your pulse. "That's right...that's what I like to hear..."

Sinking his teeth into your neck, he pushed off the door, walking over toward his bed as he held you against his chest. You watched the door get further and further away, lust building and growing in your chest as he nipped your jawline before grazing his lips over yours again, softly and briefly as he reached the edge of his mattress and laid you back against it.

When you hit the bed, he kept his mouth on yours while his hands left your waist; fervent fingers finding the fabric of your button up blouse and untucking it from your skirt, cold hands slipping underneath and groping your tits through your bra--a deep groan leaving his chest as you bucked your hips up against his crotch; wanting him closer, needing him closer.

His hands slid back down, finding the hem of your skirt and flipping it up your stomach, wasting zero fucking time before he hooked his thumbs around the band of your thong and peeled them down your thighs. The minute you were exposed, you heard the clatter of his belt buckle hitting the floor, and your pussy throbbed.

"Matty..."

Mattheo chuckled, the weight of his stare resting on your naked pussy; wallowing in your clear desperation for him.

"Look at you," he murmured. "So fucking wet." He released a long breath--he was testing his own patience, now. "This perfect body can't help but to crave me..."

You groaned as he teased your inner thigh with one hand, the other working to peel his shirt off his torso in one swift movement--exposing his hard, firm fucking abs and leaving him looming before you in just black briefs--looking as delicious and sexy as you've ever goddamn seen him.

As his long fingers ghosted over your folds, you arched, groaning when he brushed past it toward the inside of your other thigh; squirming in slight frustration, admittedly the teasing was absolutely getting to you now.

"Mattheo, I swear to-"

A firm, sharp smack to the sensitive skin of your inner thigh stopped the words in your throat; your stomach twisted as you watched Mattheo's eyes darken and lips curl sadistically.

"Is that how I taught you to ask for what you want?" He sneered, wetting his lips as he met your pleading eyes. "You know what I want to hear, princess."

You winced, swallowing your pride furthermore, until it was eroding in your stomach acid. "Please, Matty...please make me cum..."

His lips parted. "Good girl.”

His hum of approval was followed by the warm kiss of his fingertips along the sensitive lips of your pussy, feathersoft at first, and then one thick finger slipped between your folds, gliding between them, slicking itself with your wetness and grazing the swollen nub of your clit. That did it--blinded with relief, you cracked, moaning deep in your chest. Blood flushed your face, tingling your cheeks.

"You like that?" He brushed the bundle of nerves again, earning another shuddered groan. "You like the way I touch you? The way that pretty pussy responds to me?"

"Yes...Gods, yes..." you replied, the sentence coming without thought.

"That's right..." his free hand wrapped around the back of your thigh, tugging you closer to the edge of the bed, fingers swirling around your clit in tight circles, and you gasped, your mouth dropping in bliss, your rapid panting filling the steamy air.

"Fuck you're so sexy, my dirty little whore in her short little uniform skirt..." a stifled groan cut through his throat, and you shot a glance at him; one hand rubbing his strained erection through his boxers. "It took everything I had not to bend you over the fucking desk in class all week...fuck you know how to test me..."

You cried out, your pussy clenching, craving to be filled by him. "Matty, fuck-please..."

"Please what?" He growled.

Gods, curse him--curse him to bloody hell. You couldn't fucking handle this anymore. You knew he was punishing you, making you fucking beg and shatter and cry for it after what you'd done; and the way his fingers stroked your clit had you spasming, jerking--so close to cumming, you just wanted him inside you.

"Please." You banished all pride and ego and fucking common sense to the perimeter of your mind. Asylum. Just this once. "Please, fuck me...please."

"Tell me I'm the only one." He hissed, slipping a finger inside your wet, throbbing core; your back arching off the mattress as his thumb increased its pace on your clit. "Tell me you'll never let another man put his fucking hands on what's mine."

A cyclone was roaring in your brain, tearing apart coherent trains of thought with primitive, physical clamoring. Your response was pieced together by the efforts of your need for release alone.

"Fuck-no, never, Matty...I'm yours...all fucking yours..."

He was staring at you, face blank, surveying you while you twitched and jerked underneath his ministrations. His focus switched between your pussy--desperately throbbing and melting against his touch--and your red, sweating face, jaw slack from your haze of pleasure. You chewed your lip--it was bruised by now, certainly--clenching hard, and he groaned, pulling his boxers down to let his thick, needy cock spring free.

"Cum for me, slut." He ordered. "Cum for me right fucking now."

As if controlled by a remote in his hands, a tidal wave of euphoria slammed into you, walls pulsing, body wracked with the convulsions of an aggressively pent up orgasm, vision whiting out as you threw your head back, a loud string of unintelligible curses flying from you. Mattheo hummed, hand working you to the end of your orgasm as his free one slowly stroked his cock, watching every tiny ministration of your face with an exasperated expression until he was certain you were past it.

And when he was, he wasted no fucking time before he gripped your ankles in his hands, staring down at you as he began to rock his hips; his hard, throbbing dick sliding between your slit.

"Tell me you want it," he purred. "Beg for it."

You groaned. "Please, I want it Matty…I want you so fucking bad."

With a goddamn suffocatingly arrogant and devilish grin, he braced himself as he sunk into your pussy; your wet walls swallowing his cock with ease as you let loose a long, satisfied moan--Mattheo sucked a breath in through his bared teeth as sheathed himself all the way inside your cunt, pausing there to feel you clench and adjust around him.

"So fuckin' tight..." he groaned, head bowing. "Fuck you feel so good around me."

Your eyes squeezed shut, your fingers finding Mattheo's hands until he gathered both of your wrists and pinned them above your head with just one of his, leaning over you to fuck you deep and hard as his free hand snuck down to your clit. Throttled cries of pleasure were leaking from you, your conscious slipping from reality as he pummelled your pussy like you deserved the pain.

"Fuck, yes," you practically screamed. "You fuck me so good Matty...so deep, fuck-" 

A deep snarl roared from Mattheo's chest, his grip on your wrists tightening while he fucked you deeper, harder, your body rocking from the power of his thrusts. You could feel his ragged breath on your face, knew without seeing him that he was above you, lips parted, pupils blown.

"Look at me," he growled. "Let me see those eyes as you fucking cum for me."

Groaning, you obeyed, lids fluttering open to meet his gaze. Mattheo was possessed, looking past you, through you, panting with every snap of his hips. You lost yourself in his stare, the rest of the room falling away, and his fingers moved faster over your clit, bringing you to that precipice once more. Little choked moans left you while your jaw hung slack, his cock pounding into you--then his fingers hit just the right spot, and the massive, asphyxiating pressure inside of you imploded. Mattheo watched you, not even blinking once.

You thought you kept your eyes open, but you weren't sure, because you whited out, spasming and convulsing as your orgasm wracked your every cell, your every nerve, taking you to a height you'd never been to, never thought existed. Distantly, you were aware of your cunt drawing out Mattheo's climax as he cursed and dug his teeth into your shoulder, fucking you harder as he spilled himself deep inside of you.

You hadn't realized what had happened until your spirit returned to your body and you felt the burn of hot, wet tears streaming down your cheeks--evidence of your relief--followed by Mattheo collapsing on top of you, cock buried still inside your pussy, and both of you drank in lungfuls of air, starved for it, your brains fuzzy with the static of euphoria. You both laid there for a moment, rapt in the descent back to reality, until he pushed himself up and pulled out, holding you firmly in his stare again.

As he began to piece his clothes back together, you gathered your composure, pulling yourself up and off his bed, fixing yourself back to some form of decency. As you swallowed, watching Mattheo latch up his belt, he met your eyes again; the dark lust slowly fading, being replaced by an unspoken emotion you couldn't attempt to name.

"This isn't over." He breathed, moving back toward you. "We aren't over."

When your lungs hitched, you nodded, admitting to yourself that you already fucking knew you couldn't live without that. Without him.

"No," you whispered. "We aren't."

[nerdyweebfreak]

the

— hashiras —

when they're about to finish ♡

(giyuu, obanai, sanemi, gyomei, kyojuro, tengen)

tw: denial, edging, degrading, praising

banners by cafekitsune

𝐆𝐢𝐲𝐮𝐮 ⟶ giyuu has pretty good stamina. he can last quite a while with his straight, serious face. he definitely tries to delay it by clenching his hand around his shaft, or by taking deeper breaths. when he finally lets go, though, breathy groans escape his lips, and his brows furrow, occasionally letting out a moan here and there. his reserved nature forces him to focus extremely hard on what he is doing, avoiding eye contact, and trying to ease his shallow breaths. after his release, he looks down at the mess he just made, and kind of regrets it everytime.

𝐎𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐢 ⟶ obanai's collected yet passionate nature makes it so he gives his all to please his partner during the act, finding their pleasure much more important than his. he has full control on his own sensations, and can definitely tell when it's approaching. he makes sure that his partner is fully satisfied before releasing, letting go of the pressure. for some reason, this discipline makes him feel even more rewarded when he finally comes, inevitably softly moaning his partner's name over and over.

𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐦𝐢 ⟶ sanemi struggles with discipline. just like in real life relationship and dynamics, he just cannot seem to control himself. his short tempered personality takes the best of him in bed, especially when he's getting close: rutting against his partner, needing more, deeper, faster, stimulation. his groans get louder by the minute as he approaches his orgasm, gripping his fist around himself, or around his partner's throat. when he finally comes, sanemi's voice gets raspy, and curses stream from his lips.

𝐆𝐲𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐢 ⟶ gyomei's stoic and serious personality is just a disguise: when in the moment, he is actually extremely sensitive and loving. tears stream down his face whenever his pleasure intensifies. deep, low frequency moans just can't stop escaping his mouth as his big, strong hands grip around himself, but especially, when every time with his partner feels like the first. "oh, love.." he says, mindlessly, keeping a steady, powerful pace. every one of his orgasms feels like the strongest he's ever had, and he can't help but feel overwhelmed by them.

𝐊𝐲𝐨𝐣𝐮𝐫𝐨 ⟶ this ray of sunshine shines the best in bed. kyojuro's worry is mostly to make his partner feel good, and he acts surprised when they actually help him out or care about his pleasure. he makes sure that they know exactly what and how he's feeling, very vocally, through moans and groans, losing himself a little in the process. he often goes "fuckfuckfuck" when close. he tries to edge as much as he can, delaying it, but he ends up craving it, speeding up the pace, often forgetting about his surroundings, resulting in him getting caught pretty much everytime.

𝐓𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐧 ⟶ tengen is an absolute sex machine when it comes to his wives or partners. his main goal is their pleasure, giving them a blissful experience, so he often delays his orgasms with ease. he makes sure everyone comes before he does, especially because providing pleasure is his biggest turn on. when close, tengen's words get soft, and he praises so much. "i'm so proud of you, yes, just like that, you look so pretty", his soft spoken words get himself going. his quiet moans, paired with the steady pace, cause him an extremely strong orgasm, especially if done in front of the mirror.

[harmonic-intervention]

Got a little inspired by Tim saying Buck wasn't spending as much time with Eddie because of his new relationship. Wouldn't leave me alone so enjoy my word vomit.

When Buck woke up, he did so gradually, slowly gaining awareness of the mattress and the frankly unholy amount of pillows under him, of the warmth settled right next to him, of the gentle stroke of a thumb over his lower arm.

Sighing, he moved, stretched like a cat in a sunbeam, and turned over onto his side, rolling right into the source of that pleasant warmth.

He didn't even open his eyes. Instead, he blindly found his way to his destination, burying his nose in the space right under a very nice jaw. He felt the vibration of the resulting chuckle right against his skin.

"Good morning," Tommy mumbled. "Sleep well?"

Buck nodded, but it ended up being more of a nuzzle. "The best."

A large hand found its way into the curls at the back of Buck's head and began gently scratching at his scalp, twirling a curl around a finger, the usual.

Buck finally found the will to move his face away from Tommy's throat and actually open his eyes. The light of the room was dim, the dark curtains keeping most of the sunlight out.

Tommy looked beautiful lying there with his hair all soft and fluffy. To be fair, Buck thought he always looked beautiful, and every time he looked at him, it was as if he became more and more so.

"Morning," Buck finally returned the greeting. He leaned in to steal a chaste kiss, but quickly found he wasn't satisfied with just one.

The same way that Tommy apparently wasn't satisfied with just a couple short ones, as a hand along Buck's jaw kept him close, and when his thumb found its place on the bolt of Buck's jaw, he opened up easily.

They hadn't been dating for all that long, but most of their mornings off were spent like this - in bed, luxuriating in the cozy, intimate atmosphere.

They both had come off of a long shift of not seeing each other, and now had the next 48 hours off together, so Buck had gone to Tommy's place after the end of his shift. He was going to spend the next two days glued to Tommy's side. A crowbar would not be able to pry him off.

Things were heating up steadily, the space between them being reduced down to nothing. Buck's hand started to make its way beneath the sheets to slide down Tommy's torso when he was interrupted by his phone vibrating on the nightstand.

Buck was determined to ignore it - whoever it was could just send him a message and he would get back to them - and sighed his relief right into Tommy's mouth when the call ended. His fingers skirted along the waistline of Tommy's boxers when the vibrating picked back up.

Still on his path of disregarding the existence of the outside world, Buck moved closer to Tommy, slotting a leg between his, and just when he was finally about to stop teasing them both and actually put his hand on Tommy's dick, his phone started acting up again.

Much to his dismay, Tommy moved his mouth away from his. "I think it's important."

Buck grumbled as he turned over to grab his phone, one hand still firmly in place on Tommy's body, "Whoever it is better have life insurance."

He ignored the soft snort that came from his boyfriend in favor of taking a look at his phone screen.

"It's Eddie."

"Better pick up."

Buck might have been ready to just turn his phone off, but Tommy's suggestion was much more reasonable. He nodded and turned back on his other side.

Tommy's eyes flitted down between them. "You gonna take your hand off my dick?"

"No," Buck replied with a wink and accepted the call. "Hey, Eddie."

Tommy shrugged and leaned in, finding something for his mouth to do. Namely go to town on Buck's throat.

"Buck, where are you? I'm at your place and it's empty."

It took a moment for Eddie's words to register, mostly because Buck was distracted by the hint of teeth against his adam's apple. "What- my place? We have a 48 off."

"Yeah, I thought we could hang out. You didn't mention any plans, did you have something?"

He didn't mention any plans because going over to Tommy's place had become the rule, not the exception.

"I'm at Tommy's." Syllables were getting harder to form when most of his brainpower was used to concentrate on hands sliding up and down his back, stopping just shy of his ass every time.

"Oh! Are both of you up, I could come by there, then."

Eddie started talking about something - probably what he had wanted to convince Buck to do with him, something about something, Buck would full-heartedly admit that he was not listening to a single word. Not when his super hot boyfriend was being a tease.

"Listen, man, that sound's great," probably, "but I'm kinda busy at the moment."

"What?"

Tommy chuckled against Buck's jugular, clearly having heard Eddie's confusion through the phone.

Buck was about to say something that would probably traumatize his best friend forever, when seemingly, he connected the dots by himself.

"Oh, ew, Buck! What the fuck?"

"Don't 'what the fuck' me, you wouldn't stop calling!" Buck exclaimed.

This time, Tommy let out an actual laugh, definitely loud enough to be picked up by the phone. Eddie groaned on the other side, sounding very much like he was regretting all of his life choices.

"Listen, we'd love to hang out, but maybe a bit later, yeah? Give us ..." Buck looked down at Tommy and raised an eyebrow, "like, an hour?"

Tommy's reply of, "Two hours," was muffled against Buck's collarbone. He had quickly gone back to ignoring the phone call in favor of biting at the edges of Buck's body.

"Two hours. Then you can come over."

Hands free and mind not pulled in two different directions, Buck immediately buried a hand in Tommy's hair and pulled him off. He narrowed his eyes at the spark of mischief in Tommy's own ones.

After getting Eddie's confirmation and the beginning of him lamenting his life, Buck simply hung up and tossed his phone onto the nightstand, uncaring whether it actually landed there or not.

"Having fun?" he asked with a put upon frown.

Tommy didn't even have the decency to look bothered by the grip that Buck had on his curls. "So far, yes."

Buck hauled him back in into a biting kiss, using the momentum of his own body to turn them over into the pillows.

He ignored the smug grin pressed against his mouth for now. He'd take care of that soon enough.

[primofate]

Genshin Angst Headcanons - Why the two of you broke up

Note: Had an unexpected free day! I haven't written in a while, please excuse the mistakes, if any.

Disclaimer at the end of the post

Warning: Some are pretty predictable. Each of them have their own issues, lore wise, so some are lore heavy. You might not agree with some of them, but its how I see it, so to each their own. Let me know what you think! Some are quite angsty. Some scenes it's you breaking up with him and some are vice versa. Didn't feel like writing Razor, Venti and Xingqiu.

Characters: Aether, Albedo, Alhaitham, Ayato, Baizhu, Bennett, Chongyun, Cyno, Dainsleif, Diluc, Gorou, Heizou, Itto, Kaeya, Kaveh, Kazuha, Lyney, Neuvillette, Scaramouche, Tartaglia, Thoma, Tighnari, Xiao, Zhongli, gn!reader

Personal Favourites in this work: Lyney, Itto, Kazuha

Aether

Sister issues. Enough said.

He realized he didn't have enough time to spare romancing with someone.

Somewhere along the way he felt guilt that he was enjoying his time with you while his sister went through some sort of villain origin story that seemingly turned her bad.

Top off all the adventuring, searching, solving problems for other people that he did...Where did that leave you, exactly?

"...I'm sorry, Y/N... I just... I don't think this is the right time for me to be together with you,"

Albedo

Contrary to popular belief it wouldn't be his lack of time or extreme focus on his alchemical experiments that would break the two of you up. He knows how to manage his time.

It was the RESULTS of experiments and his research that would put him away from you.

The possibility that HE or his world, was way too dangerous for you.

How many "Albedos" did Rhinedottir really create? Was there more than three? Perhaps four, five? And what happens when you come face to face with another Albedo?

"I'm afraid...There are far too many dangers surrounding myself... There are answers that I can't find...and perhaps that's the reason why my answer is to part ways with you,"

Alhaitham

Too much of a nonchalant attitude.

He expressed some kind of interest in you...but it's like... once in a blue moon. 95% of the time you're not sure if he's really into you. It almost seems like he's more into that book he reads all the time.

Simply just not good at expressing himself. Like, at all. Hides behind a "whatever works" and "I don't care about what other people think of me" attitude, unfortunately that seems to include you.

Is so straightforward that sometimes it hurts, but he's really just telling the truth through logical analysis.

will act like the breakup didn't hurt nor affect him at all. In turn it hurts you instead.

"I see. So you've had enough of me... And you only spoke up now? Pointing it out earlier could've diverted us from this path...If that's how you feel already I suggest that we stop seeing each other,"

"That's it? You're not even going to try and work it out with me?"

"What's there to work out? You've made yourself clear. You're not satisfied with the way I treat you, and I'm afraid I'm not going to change the way I act just for your pleasure... It'd be more meaningful for you to find someone who fits your criterias,"

Ayato

entering a relationship with a noble was not as easy as one thought.

It's not just about being together forever and feeling lucky because Ayato is rich and your whole life is set, it's also the not fitting in, the etiquette, the whispers from townfolk that you were too ordinary for him, the work that you needed to do if you were to become his wife.

All that was not really a big problem for you, but Ayato seemed not to know of your struggles, he was extremely busy, and when he wasn't, he seemed to think that everything was well and fine, since you were getting all your basic needs met and even more.

"...So I'm sorry, Ayato. This is just... All too much for me. I'm sorry,"

"...I understand. Forgive me, it seems that I've overlooked a lot of things...Perhaps it is as you say, that it'd be better for us to grow apart rather than grow together,"

Baizhu

because he is a ticking time bomb, no matter which way he looked it's not going to end well for both of you.

He either dies early or lives forever. In both scenarios he anticipates that the two of you are just going to be in a world of hurt.

Besides, he didn't mean to get so attached to someone in the first place, he knew his quest for immortality was long and arduous. You didn't deserve to walk that difficult road too.

While breaking up, will conceal the fact that he's only thinking of you and will possibly hurt you in the process.

"I'm sorry, but it's for the best. I ask that you continue going forward without me, there's no space for you in my... ideal future,"

Bennett

We all know it...it's his bad luck. However, it wasn't YOU who had a problem with it, it was HIM.

You understood that his bad luck was just some extended part of him, plus it's not like it was always bad, there were a lot of good times too. Plenty!

But the guilt ate him up whenever the two of you were stuck in a seemingly impossible scenario and predicament, brought on by his luck. He just had enough of it one day.

"I...I can't keep doing this to you every day! It's not fair..."

will be on the brink of tears before he even starts.

"Maybe it's better if you find someone else to adventure with, Y/N, sorry...!"

runs away before you can even get a word in.

Chongyun

Thinks he's not good enough in every aspect. It's really, seriously not about you. He thinks he's lacking in everything. Strength, maturity, experience, confidence.

So badly wants to stay with you but feels like he's not good enough and thinks that you're better off with someone else.

"D-Don't misunderstand... It's not because I don't like you anymore... I just...Please find someone else!"

Cyno

his bad jokes and TCG addiction. just kidding, you're not that shallow.

A lot of people are intimidated by him being the General Mahamatra because he gives importance to justice. While you, who had seen a bit more of him than other people had, it seemed more of an obsession to uphold the Akademiya's law and integrity.

This was not a big problem to you, you liked how he was serious at work.

Until one day when you were accused of plagiarising one of your papers and Cyno was the one sent to give you a first offense warning. The Akademiya knew of your relationship, that's probably why they sent him, to make it harder on the two of you.

Cyno didn't listen to your explanations on how it was an honest mistake, he still gave you the warning that you "deserved"

From then on it had just been different between the two of you, so it was really a mutual breakup. Or so you thought.

"...After that, I just realized that maybe this isn't the right time for us... We're both working for the Akademiya, we both take our jobs seriously...Unfortunately that seems to just be getting in the way of us...I think it's best if we stop seeing each other,"

"...I see." he pauses for a minute, as if tossing your words in his mind. "I...agree. Parting ways would certainly make work easier for both of us...it's the professional thing to do,"

Dainsleif

Has not moved on from his past.

Sure, everyone has their own baggage to carry, their own history to live through...but Dainsleif has heavier things than that. He seemed to wake up every day thinking of Khaenri'ah and the days long past. Was it regret? Nostalgia? Loneliness? You didn't know. You just knew that he wasn't really completely THERE with you in the present. Part of him still lived in the past.

When you explained that you felt like the two of you were not moving forward together and that it seemed like he wanted to go back to the past instead, he got offended.

"...My past is something that I carry forever, you'd claimed that you understood that," he starts.

"I do! But carrying it with you and letting it drag you backwards are two different things!"

He falters for a moment, only to leave you with his last words before turning away from you forever: "You will never understand, the weight that I carry,"

Diluc

is too guarded. You'd been friends for a long, long, long, long time before he decided he could let you in enough and be more intimate with you.

Even then everything was going at a snail's pace, though you were extremely patient with him.

The biggest problem with Diluc was that the two of you would progress one day, take a step forward, and then the next day it was like the two of you took two steps back.

Example: The two of you went out for a simple stargazing excursion late one night, it was nice and he had been incredibly affectionate. The next day he had trouble even meeting your gaze, and disappeared to do his work. It was also a little awkward during dinnertime. This scenario had happened more than once.

Hint: the closer he got to you the more afraid he became, thinking that he would one day lose you too.

"I...I can't. I love you but I...I've waited far too long. I'm sorry. I'm tired of this endless chase for you!"

He couldn't even say a thing. He'd wanted to ask you to stay, to wait for him a little longer, but he already knew how incredibly selfish that would have been. Instead, he grimaced, and looked away from your gaze, trying to find something worthwhile to say. There was only silence for a few moments.

"Goodbye Diluc," that's when you turned away.

Gorou

worships Kokomi too much and your insecurities just kept circling around in your head.

You know its his job. You know he isn't like that but the problem was YOU and not him.

Simply said you let your insecurity eat up the relationship between the two of you.

You couldn't bring yourself to say that you were jealous of the way he admired Kokomi so you broke up with him with another reason in tow.

Unfortunately, you're not a very good liar face to face so you did a butthole move and actually broke up with him through a letter. You just couldn't face him and tell him why.

All you mentioned in the letter was that you needed time to think and be away from him, and told him not to worry because it was your problem, not his.

Poor Gorou reread that letter over and over, trying to understand what went wrong.

Heizou

is just a natural flirt. You're not sure if he's doing it on purpose or not and you're not sure if he's even aware he's like that.

Anyway you'd seen him getting overly friendly (just another word for flirting) with a few other people a couple of times. You didn't let it get to you the first, fourth or even eighth time but you realized that he KNOWS that you're watching him do that.

So you confront him about it, but he claims that it's just his way of gathering information from others. People like to hear good things and some people are more susceptible to flirtatious comments so he resorts to that for his investigation sometimes.

You didn't really completely buy it and even if you did, it's not like this was healthy for your relationship. You just couldn't make yourself comfortable with it.

*You just chalked it up to the two of you being incompatible.

"I'm just not comfortable with that...I don't think I have to say sorry for how I feel but...I'm sorry anyway because I know you're just doing your job... It's probably best if we part ways here..."

"Is there any way to change your mind?" he genuinely asks.

You only give a lopsided smile. "You're a detective, I think you already know the answer to that,"

Yet he didn't stop you from walking away.

Itto

Kept breaking promises because he was too airheaded or too occupied doing something "stupid" with the kids or with his gang.

Pretty soon it just felt like you were an afterthought while everyone else in his life took precedent.

Got a ramen date? Oops, sorry! Got caught up looking for a strong onikabuto in the forest!

Needed his help to move some things? Gah, he was vandalising the bulletin boards, so he's running a bit late!

What's more you didn't actually mind that carefree, airheaded side of him...but it really got to you when he couldn't even seem to make you a priority. Not once.

He only realized that when he came running, late again, and stood face to face with a crying you.

"Hey sorry Y/N, I was just--...Why are you crying?!" is completely dumbfounded and clueless, mostly because when he came late, you had always shrugged it off with a smile on your face, or so he thought. This time you had a completely different reaction.

"I hate you...*hic* I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!"

Shocked beyond belief. It wasn't like you to just blow up like that, but he couldn't do anything except watch you turn and run away from him after that exclamation.

Kaeya

Sometimes you're not sure if he takes you seriously.

Recently, he's not where he says he is, you don't know why he doesn't just tell you where he is.

He said he'd be working late, but then you find out he's at Angel's Share.

He said he'll be at Angel's Share, but then you catch word from Jean that he's out on a late mission.

He said he's escorting a caravan to Mondstadt but he's actually on assignment in Liyue.

It came to the point where you altogether just stopped looking for him cause half of the time you couldn't find him. It's like he's avoiding you or something, which, actually, seems just about right since he's been so busy with "work"

It reached a breaking point when, for a week, you were unable to bring him the lunch you prepared...because he was not where he said he was going to be. It was starting to get annoying.

"I don't understand why you're lying to me! Why do you have to tell me you'll be at Angel's Share this afternoon when you're not? Do you realize you make me walk all the way there only to come all the way back with nothing achieved?"

"I'm sorry snowflake, that wasn't my intention," though he still chuckles despite knowing full well that you were about to turn away.

"You know what, let me know when you're ready to stop making jokes. Until then, don't bother contacting me,"

He just didn't expect you to actually walk away from him.

Kaveh

Entertains everyone and anyone. Naturally kind at heart, will stop for anyone in trouble...even that flirtatious man/woman who is clearly just pining for his attention.

No he doesn't quite realize this.

The same person had asked for his help at least 4 times now and all 4 times he had been happy to offer a helping hand.

The last straw was when he was invited into the stranger's house, they had apparently needed someone to help them move and re-arrange furniture and he did, working till almost dinner time.

You'd caught him right by the person's door, because Kaveh was actually honest and told you he'd be helping them today, but the person was clearly eyeing Kaveh rather flirtatiously.

"Come again next time," you heard the person say rather happily. Kaveh only replies with "If I have nothing else to do, I suppose,"

"Kaveh, they're coming onto you and you keep letting it happen!"

"I'm not certain what you're talking about...They just needed some help around their house, nothing suspicious happened at all. Even if there was, I won't let anything happen between me and a stranger!"

"Then STOP helping them!"

"There isn't anything wrong with lending a hand...It was a quick move of things, that's all,"

"How would YOU feel if I just went into someone's house and kept helping them "move" things?"

"...I would think that's nice of you,"

You actually threw your hands up. "Oh, forget it! You know what, for someone who LOVES helping others, you're not doing such a great job of helping ME," then walked away and never came back. "Good riddance,"

Kazuha

He's a wandering samurai. You knew what you were getting into but you didn't expect dating him to be so hard.

He was gone for weeks on end, and you were not getting on that boat with him. In essence the two of you were just not ready to follow each other to the end's of the Earth, and that was fair. The two of you were young.

Kazuha kind of saw it coming, whenever he visited you, you seemed less spirited and he had an inkling as to why. The time apart was just too much for you.

It was a rather clean break actually. A real mutual breakup that the two of you agreed on.

"...You could say it's just not the right time for us," you even managed to laugh under your breath and he did the same, though it was barely audible.

"...Mm. There are matters that you need to attend to here...and there are things that I need to do out there," he slowly stood up from his sitting position next to you and still gazed at you rather lovingly. "...Perhaps, in another world, you and I are bound together,"

You gazed back forlornly, "...Just not in this one, it looks like,"

Lyney

because he will always choose his siblings over you. Always.

Though that's not a bad thing because you also think that family is important...somewhere along the way you realized that family is the ONLY thing he had and saw.

Example: Lynette and you had gotten ill at the same time one winter morning. Perhaps it was the cold that was passing around Fontaine. Lyney had been so worried about Lynette, that he seemed to have forgotten about you for the next few days. In fact, Lyney didn't even realize that you caught the cold too. You had only heard from Freminet, who you happened to cross paths with, that Lynette was also ill.

You thought that incident was the end of it, but really it seemed that whenever Lyney wanted to hang out with you, Lynette had to be there too. You tried to understand...after all there's still that mystery of disappearing women in Fontaine.

The breakup was induced when Lyney completely forgot about your birthday, because Freminet's was around the same time as yours. You helped Lyney prepare everything for Freminet, and said nothing about your own.

You realized that there was nothing wrong with choosing family over everything else...but the problem here was that Lyney didn't even have space for you in the first place.

So you left without saying anything. You figured he'd get over it quick. You had even gone so far as to move away from the main city of Fontaine and out into another island, because what would you say if he found you? That you were jealous of his siblings? You weren't going to ruin a family like that and it wasn't right to make him choose...so you just left without a word.

Neuvillette

Had a whole brainrot for this man:

Part 1

Part 2

Scaramouche

surprisingly it's not his anger issues.

It's the way he wouldn't acknowledge your relationship. You wonder how you even got into one with him.

There's no public show of affection, but even behind closed doors it rarely happened.

You knew that he was going to be like that, and so you didn't mind it all that much.

It was getting a bit much though when, out in public, he would walk further in front of you and refused to walk next to you. When he pretended like he didn't even know you. When he didn't stop to help you even when another man had shown interest in you, bordering on uncomfortable.

The more time passed the more you simply felt unloved...but for some reason you still blamed yourself.

"...I...don't know. Maybe you find me undesirable, or just...unappealing. Maybe you're embarrassed of me or...or..." maybe you just didn't care in the first place, you thought to yourself.

There was a long silence. Of you turning your gaze away, of him still piercing into yours. And then...

"Tsk...don't waste my time...Leave if you want to leave, door's open,"

Tartaglia

This one is simple. It's his obsession for fighting plus his complete disregard for himself. It's a constant heart attack for you. At some point the anxiety is just too much for you to handle.

Imagine living every day just wondering if he's safe at the same time knowing that he just loves to look for trouble.

The foul legacy that you know of, he uses it with disregard as well, despite knowing that it wasn't good for him.

And there are even days where you know he was heavily wounded but didn't go to you, in an attempt to shield you from worry.

It's a constant battle trying to stay sane and unworried, until one day it all just becomes too much.

"...Nothing I say will change anything, Tartaglia. This is who you are...This is who you need to be..." you whisper while bandaging his knuckles. He lets out a short hum.

It was silent all up until you finished with his hand, you squeeze it gently. "...I love you but...I can't keep doing this to myself, I'm tired...more so than I have ever been before,"

He lets your hand slip away from his knuckles, and that was the last he saw of you.

Thoma

This one is also simple. He was always taking care of others and running errands for others that he sometimes just couldn't catch a break.

Just a classic case of not enough time for you since he had a job to do for the Kamisato Clan.

He knows it, and feels awful about it. So he's the one who makes the move.

"It hurts that I can't give you what you deserve, Y/N. This isn't it... You deserve more than this but I can't give you that and I'm sorry. Please look for the love that you deserve,"

Tighnari

Remembers everything. Can be critical of things you've done, specially if he thinks there's a better way to do it.

Simply said you just feel stupid in front of him sometimes.

He doesn't mean to, but he sometimes forgets to appreciate or give praise to the things that you do well and even if he does, it tends to be short lived compared to his constructive criticisms.

Pretty soon you felt like he only looks at the bad things you do, and never the good. Though he was really only trying to teach and guide you as an equal.

He in fact feels that you are one of the few people who can keep up educational conversations with him.

The problem is he kind of forgets that you're his lover, and that you would enjoy his praise and affection from time to time.

"Do you... Do you ever have anything nice to say other than 'good work' or 'great observation'?" the words were out of your mouth before you could hold yourself back. Sometimes it was tiring to feel like you weren't good enough.

There's a flash of surprise that crosses Tighnari's expression for a split second, before he recovers. "...Had I not been praising your work enough lately? My apologies... It has a lot of merits, I just thought that you wanted my opinion on how to make it better,"

You opened your mouth to say something, but closed it again right after to ponder on his words. Somehow even that had managed to make you feel embarrassed. It was here you knew that the problem also lied within yourself.

"...Sorry, Tighnari...I think I'll need some time alone,"

He obliges quickly and asks. "That's reasonable. When would you like me to come back?"

"...Let me rephrase that... I need some time away. From us."

Xiao

Unfortunately there's a lot of things wrong here... his lack of affection. His aloof personality. His dedication to his yaksha duties. Despite that he does actually try to be gentlemanly or respectful of you.

The worst of it is that he didn't know how to be in a relationship, in other words he just wasn't ready for one, or perhaps he would never be ready for one.

He didn't understand that humans craved companionship and sometimes touch. He didn't understand that meant having to favour you over others, sometimes even putting you first over his yaksha duties.

Worst of it all was when he shut himself off from you, sometimes for days on end, when his karmic debt was too high. He only really did it to protect you, but never realized how isolated that made you feel.

When you confronted him about it, he felt attacked. Hiding away was the only way he knew how to cope...why couldn't you understand that?

"Let me help you, Xiao,"

"I don't need your help!" his tone would make you wince and just like that he disappears into a billow of smoke.

You never returned to Wangshu Inn after that. If he couldn't let you in, there was no use trying to knock on his heart. Xiao being Xiao, never sought you ought again either.

Zhongli

He had experienced so many things and you had listened to many a tales from him.

This is what caused you to realize that you hadn't even experienced life at all, and yet here you were willing to tie yourself down to him.

It just didn't feel like it added up. Here he was with all this knowledge of the world and here you were who had never even stepped outside of Liyue. By no means were you stupid, but you felt that you could be better not only for him, but for yourself if you learned more.

There was just such a huge gap in life experiences, and though you never expected to get to his level (he was a God who had lived for a long time, you would never catch up to him) you at least wanted to see what was out there with your own eyes instead of through his stories.

He understood that wholeheartedly, and had no qualms in letting you go.

"You will always have a place with me, Y/N. No amount of lifetimes will change that,"

I’ve published The Ruthless Prince (Reader x Scaramouche) on paperback. Click here.

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Here's the Masterlist

Disclaimer: Relationships will always have some sort of problem along the way, maybe big, maybe small but I just want to reiterate that breaking up is not always the solution. Communicating is very important. So to those of you who like taking fanfiction too seriously, let it be known that this is just a work of fiction. I don't actually suggest breaking up with someone as soon as there is the slight indication of a problem (Just saw someone commenting on a similar themed post for Haikyuu that this wouldn't happen in the real world if both parties were mature... I mean, sure, but, idk, you must be fun in parties... it's called fiction for a reason...)

[cxffecoupx]

asking to place lipstick marks on 'it'

seventeen x reader 18+, nsfw, svt down bad warnings: suggestive content, love making wc: 1.0k author's notes: such a CRAZYY thought to have, so i decided to do it :) but i cant believe it took me this long to finish writing this (read: uni is kicking my ass). anyways, wouldn't say i'm very satisfied with it, but i really hope you guys like it!! also, special thanks to @simpxxstan for giving me ideas for a few members

➼ choi seungcheol

very interested in the idea. would get so excited for this. would ask if he can select the shade of lipstick and runs to your dressing table when you agree. but most likely would end up buying a new set of lipsticks because the shade he wants 'is not there' (it's an excuse for him to buy you a new set). by the time you're able to finish your mission, you're over three rounds and he's a sweaty, moaning mess. neither of you sleep that night.

➼ yoon jeonghan

would become so smug when you suggest it?? like full on smirk on his face and just goes, "if you wanted me to fuck you, you could have just said that." but will eventually agree when he sees your boba eyes and gets excited seeing your excitement. will probably squirm and whimper because of the sensations at first, but the sex later on is crazy.

➼ hong jisoo

confused eyes. looks so adorable you end up smushing his face and kissing his lips in fondness. man is actually so clueless at first, but then ever more confused when he realizes what you meant. becomes beet red until you promise him it's just for fun and not necessary until he's okay with it, hearing which he quickly agrees cause if you're gonna have fun, why would he not indulge you? would become so adorably shy when he sees the result. makes you cum with just his fingers and mouth as thank you.

➼ moon junhui

mindblown by your idea. becomes so excited; it's like a child waiting for candy. so endeared by you that he ends up making you smooch all over his face. then he starts kissing all over your face. the lipstick marks meant for his dick end up on your faces, but neither of you could be happier than at this moment. slowly turns into a gentle love making session.

➼ kwon soonyoung

you ask him in a very usual way, but it's only after he accepts that you realize this is a great opportunity to tease him. asks if he can record it (because he's very amused by this idea) and searches for the perfect lighting and angle while you prepare. thinks he's so prepared for it, but starts shaking and pleading the moment you start kitty licking his tip. by the time you're finished, he's panting and wanting for more.

➼ jeon wonwoo

you ask him while he was gaming; he leaves the game so fast you wonder what went wrong. but then he goes and picks up a random shade of lipstick and pulls you in between his knees as he manspreads on his gaming chair. holds your hair as you work on him. hours later, the lipstick and your clothes lie forgotten by the bed.

➼ lee jihoon

wants this whole event to occur in his studio. literally agrees when you offer to come to the studio for it. he'd be acting so nonchalant but you can clearly hear his heart racing in his chest and his ears going red. also likely to voice record the whole thing with your consent to use as 'inspiration' later (will use it to get off during desperate times).

➼ lee seokmin

another one who'd get red. very shy. "woah where do you even get ideas like these?" as he goes wide-eyed and still manspreads on the couch to invite you in. goes weak in his knees when he sees you make eye contact with him as you look up from between his knees wearing a shade he considers sexy. you have to abort the mission because he ends up pushing your face few many times.

➼ kim mingyu

GIGGLY MESS. you don't understand what he's been giggling about ever since you proposed the idea, but you're currently down on your knees in front of his naked body and he just cant stop giggling??? when you ask him about it though, he says he's way too endeared by this whole task and wants you to kiss every inch of his body. so, an hour or so later, you're panting, straddling a happy mingyu who's entire body is covered with lipstick stains. time to make a new folder in your gallery.

➼ xu minghao

lowkey becomes concerned about you. he already suspected you were upto something when you approached him with a cheeky smile, but he never thought it'd be this... wild? almost instantly rejects until he sees you get down and look at him with such hopeful eyes that he cant resist. still finds it weird as you mark him, but gladly indulges you. takes photos of it (without you knowing,,, or so he thinks) because you are the artist, and he ends up liking the art a little too much.

➼ boo seungkwan

lowkey judges you first, before highkey agreeing to it. it's one of the "how dare you make stupid decisions and do them without me" moments. judgmental most of the time: "is that the shade you're choosing? it doesnt look good on my skin tone," "the lip shapes arent perfect, pucker them a little more," etc etc. after lots of advice and nagging, you finally finish the job. you get up with a satisfied smirk as you look at his pretty pink cock and his spent form.

➼ chwe vernon

deeply contemplates it. quickly nods when you say, "it's for the art" and asks for some time. leaves. comes back saying "okay, let's do it." when you ask him where he went, he goes "i had to be clean and ready." waits for you to prep for it, but almost cums then and there when he sees you naked, wearing only his favourite shade of lipstick. by the time you could finish the task, he's lost all his marbles and begs you to ride him. finishes with his cum painting your chest and stomach.

➼ lee chan

turns red as a tomato. one moment you suggest the idea, the next he has to physically pull his head outta the gutter because his thoughts escalated into something else. and no matter how hard he tries to deny that he was indeed having very mature thoughts, the blush creeping to his cheeks screams the truth. asks somewhere in between if he can mark your chest with his lipstick marks, and honestly? who are you to resist? by the end of the night, he's spent and at your mercy and you havent yet completed the task.

[blackpilljesus]

I saw this from the female separatism subreddit & the responses are some of the biggest reasons for separatism et al (or extinction if I'm being candid here). Moids cant be reformed they are fully aware of the hell they force women to live in. MaIe achievement & happiness is rooted in female exploitation & life. Their glory days are based on our horrific days. No amount of love, kindness or facts will change maIes and we cannot happily or even neutrally coexist with them.

Main points across answers:

Many want to experiment but not permanently be women

They dont want to be in constant danger or lose their autonomy at the hands of maIes for merely existing

They dont want to deal with childbirth (& periods)

They dont want to have to share spaces with species much stronger than them with ulterior motives

It makes me go crazy seeing people give moids benefit of doubt for their evil like "maIes just dont understand", "we need to teach maIes", or claiming that maIe violence is a result of maIes struggling with (expressing) their feelings. I get that women love maIes and it can be hard to imagine that people can intentionally be so evil but it is what it is. MaIes have no problems expressing themselves, abusing women is what maIes choose to do because they enjoy & benefit from it - that is their expression.

MaIes see the same news of women being abused, raped, and killed like we do except rather than be disheartened or alarmed they're either apathetic or satisfied. It isn't aliens that's committing GBV it's maIes & maIes have no problem reminding women of this when women anger them (such as rape threats & threatening women they'll end up on the news/true crime). The victim blaming, denial, and derailment of misogyny is part of the game to keep the system alive, they know the events occured & are a systemic occurence they just dont care. Hell not only do they not care, they rejoice in it or get off on it.

MaIes set up environments that work in their favour which simultaneously ensures that women will lose. They know women are set up to live in damn near impossible conditions for us. It's normalised for women to defenselessly share personal & private spaces with beings much more stronger than them with ulterior motives for us, it's trap. It's interesting how these moids aren't saying that they'll just cover up and *poof* harrassment gone, or they'll just pick a nice guy & they'll be okay. MaIes know the net negative they are towards women.

MaIes know that childbirth is a painful process & what do they do? Demand it happens and make it even MORE painful for women. MaIes that impregnate women do not love or care for them. Pregnancy itself is dangerous & sometimes lethal, often comes with a range of health issues, to cause someone to be in that condition especially in a environment where abortions are illegal is reckless & unloving. Now imagine how sinister & full of hatred one has to be to impregnate someone and abuse them on top of that. Many women risk their health & lives to reproduce with a Y and they get abused by said Y instead of being taken care of. Deranged.

Realising that maIes are aware of the evil they inflict is one of the things that radicalised me. It isn't a miscommunication or ignorance issue, their violence is intended. They want control. The cruelty is the point. Instead of wasting time & energy trying to change maIes or hope that they "understand" one day, focus on yourself & other women (who prioritise women). Moids aren't oblivious to female pain they enjoy it. A lot of women treat maIe evil like it's a mistake on maIes part but it's calculated terrorism. I know that this will go over many womens heads as they refuse to hold strong negative sentiments about moids as a collective so if you're not a woman like that, take this post as a sanity check. You aren't crazy, it isn't all in your head.

[oblique-lane]

2024 Summary

Starts in May because I drew nothing earlier.

Last year (I barely even remember those times) I was so burned out by drawing, I used to put too much effort in it and then not be satisfied anyway, so I snapped and decided to not draw ever again. 2023 summary was uneventful. I've lost faith in my skills.

Even a year into the fandom, I didn't believe I was able to draw these characters and I didn't want to (I was scared). I decided that I'll be known there solely by my writing... Until one day I actually tried and, wait a minute... I CAN?????

I'm still not in a warm relationship with drawing as I used to be back in the day, I still don't draw for enjoyment but only for the end result. But I'm glad that I'm welcomed here with what it is. 💔

Happy new year!!!

[bamsara]

I'll ask, if it hasn't been already - regarding the tags on the fanfic poll:

What kinda things make you click out/give you the squick? I'm so curious 👀

rubs my hands together: could be a mix of things anywhere between character dynamics, personalities or even how the fic is formated

Btw for people who don't know what squicks are: 'Squicks' are just personal preferences that someone doesn't like. Nothing wrong with em it's just not your vibe. (Exp: Like how all my friends HATE tomatoes but I am tomato eater forever)

anyway long ramble list:

Can't read big blocks of text without breaks very well, and I dislike when characters (esp main characters that are talking in every chapter/scene) have bolded or italicized dialogue. I think it's fine for special reoccurring characters but it genuinely messes up with reading flow for me when it comes to taking in information if used too much

If I'm reading a fic specifically for a monogamous romantic paring, I don't care for the 'past lover interest reappears' trope or one of them currently has one, or the love triangle that results in one of them being like 'oh but i love them both i can't possibly choose!' *cough twilight cough* it just makes the relationship feel disgenuine and icky. zero stars. Any mention of a character's past relationship usually makes me just click out, just personally not here for that

-^^^ to go with this, big fan of the 'misunderstanding where someone thinks there's a love rivelry but the third person never had a chance.' Like to the main pairing there's only eyes for each other and that's all they care about, there's just some third person who's there and causing problems (either because someone in the pairing is jealous of the third person thinking they're gonna steal the other when it's not, or the third person thinks they're a love rival when in reality they're not even thought about) *cough Tyren cough*. I think there's a lotta comedy to have with this. Bonus points if it brings main pairing closer together

When characters have linear character development and recovery. I prefer my characters to realistically relapse and bit a little bit of a hypocrite as they develop from start of story to end. Failing and falling short and again makes the final result much more satisfying when they're healing

When characters use 'therapy speak' or otherwise react perfectly 'acceptable' to stressful situations. Again, I prefer realistic depictions of characters under stress, and work out becoming better under that stress rather than just One Big Thing Happen and suddenly they're never going to react negatively or lash out again because another character told them It Was Bad and To find Better Coping Mechanisms.

Unhappy endings. (Or open ended ones) Sorry for hurt/no comfort lovers but none of my fics will have unhappy endings. I like my stories to have people that go through absolute hell and still come out on the otherside

The ace in me doesn't care for fics where physical attraction is a large part of the ingredients that gets the pairing together. Not saying they can't admire each other when the sunlight hits them or wearing a nice outfit but just not a fan of reading about how 'sexy' a character is to another. Probably why I usually blast all my characters with the aspec beam

That's all I can think of off the top of my head but if someone had a more specific question I might be able to answer

[siddyyyyyyyy]

Comfort

Damian Wayne x Batsis!Reader

wc: 1.3 K summary: your younger brother tries to comfort you when you're sick. warnings: none, fluff, platonic, no y/n used a/n: I'm doing this because i dont want to live, so here you go. (divider)

It started with a sore throat after patrol. Nothing too scary and you made yourself a warm tea to make it go away before going to sleep. But it was bold of you to assume that it won't get worse overnight. Tea isn't medicine after all.

It started to get worse in school, the next morning. You noticed the tremors going through your body and light sweat covering your skin as you went through each period, but you didn't want to skip the day just because of that. So, you powered through, even when you felt like a walking zombie by the end of it. After you managed all your classes, you get back home and make the agonizing way upstairs. Entering your room felt like heaven, being reliefed that it's over, but now you have to take care of yourself somehow.

Settling down in the kitchen, you make another hot tea and slice up some fruits, in hopes the vitamins will make you fitter. You sit down at the kitchen table with a light grunt, only now noticing the terrible aching of your limbs.

To make your throat hurt less, you take a few careful sips before you take a few small slices and try eating them. It feels refreshing but swallowing them down feels like getting sand paper getting shoved down your throat. And taking sips of hot tea doesn't help your case. So, you give up on eating the whole plate and leave it half-finished at the table. After downing the last sips of your cup, you move back upstairs and snuggle into your fuzzy blankets.

It feels heavenly and you wait for the shiver to go away, starting to warm up slowly under the mountains of blankets. Still in school uniform, you take a short nap, which didn't feel satisfying or restful at all. Your body keeps shivering and your head is pounding with a dull ache, not even being able to relax fully by yourself. Being fed up and still sick, you slowly creep your way towards the Batcave since your first aid kit in your room doesn't have medicine, and the most useful stuff should be down there.

Your aching limbs manage to carry you down to the elevator, eventually getting to the medical section of the batcave. The cold climate of the cave doesn't help you, only making the shivers become more violent. But you find the needed items for your fever and some for your runny nose, eventually turning around to get back upstairs.

There stands the smaller but chilling creature, your younger brother. You jump up and almost let the packets of medicine down before you compose yourself quickly

»What are you planning with the medicine? Are you sick?«

It's clear by his tone that he's worried, but he still frowns up at you, arms crossed tightly.

»Uhm... « That came more as a croak, clearing your throat as you try to speak up properly. »Yeah... fever. « You finally manage out and sigh out afterwards, which only results into a coughing fit.

Damian leans away lightly, even though you're coughing into your inner elbow and try not to face him while doing so. With narrowed eyes, the younger teen gets the medicine from your hands and nods to the elevator.

»Please go upstairs and try not to slip and die. I will handle this for you.«

Despite his rough approach at this, you know that he only means well. With a softer expression, you get back into the Mansion and you make your agonizing way upstairs all over again. Finally there, you change into more comfortable clothes and collapse back onto bed. Waiting for Damian to return, you do nothing but stare up at the celing tiredly, and wish last night wasn't so rainy during patrol.

But you don't have much time thinking about it, hearing a short knock before Damian steps in with a bigger tray in hands. He comes closer and sets the tray on to your night stand, looking you over again.

Damian prepares a few pills and hands them over to you with a cup of water. »Take these.«

After swallowing down the few meds, you finally take in what's on that tray he brought in. There's a steaming cup of tea and a bowl of soup, a smaller plate with garlic bread and there's also a banana. He rubs the back of his neck as you take it in, eventually taking the bowl and almost salivate.

»I wish my nose would be working right now...« You rasp out, voice being mostly broken due to the fever and your stuffy nose. Damian presses his lips tightly together, eventually gesturing to the tray.

»Eat up. I know it's not the best, but at least you'll be better afterwards... do you need anything?« You shake your head at his words and start eating the warm soup, feeling like you might just descend into the sky. Your younger brother eventually quits your room and trusts you to rest up, even though he'll make sure to check up on you every now and then.

After finishing some of the soup and fresh garlic bread, you got back into your sheets and took a proper nap. Your fever went slightly away during that time, still feeling a bit cranky when you wake up. It's later into the evening and you're unsure if you can patrol tonight. Your determined mind, however, comes up with every excuse to go out anyway. A few moments later there's a short knock at your door before Damian enters again, checking up.

»How's your fever?« He asks straight away, coming up to the edge of your bed. You shrug lightly, leaning back against your headboard.

»Better, I think I'm healing up. Was just a bit dramatic earlier.« Knowing him, he will definitely be against going out on patrol with you tonight. So, you wait for his answer, but he doesn't and simply presses the back of his hand on your forehead. He frowns lightly, letting go after a moment.

»You're not dramatic. But that fever is dramatic. You need rest.« He stubbornly crosses his arms and tilts his head up, trying to look down at you this way. It makes you huff out, shortly after getting another coughing fit. Damian proves himself right and grins lightly, eventually handing you the banana you didn't finish up.

»Eat. I'm sure father won't you let out tonight either.«

And with that, he turns on his heel and leaves your room without further argument.

You stay in your bed for the rest of the evening, getting another portion of food from Damian for dinner. This time it was a salad and some warm mashed potatoes, saying that you should eat some light food but with enough nutrition. It does make you feel satisfied and you take another nap without even realising.

He quietly takes the dishes out of your room while you sleep, eventually leaving you alone again to rest up plenty. And indeed, when Bruce finally goes up to check up on you, he won't let you go out to patrol and instead makes sure that Alfred will keep an eye on you, ensuring him that you won't sneak out.

Now bored and sick, you do your studies as best you can, but eventually give up on them as well, after being unable to concentrate due to your growing headache. Falling asleep another time, Damian comes back inside after patrol and tucks you in properly, carefully laying your studies away and takes you in briefly before leaving to his own bed. He would be lying if he said he isn't worried. He almost panicked when he saw your pale and tired face back in the Batcave, having thought something way more serious has happened. But even after taking care of you like this, he still feels a tiny bit concerned. Be assured you'll be made fun of once you get back on your feet.

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