#Also the knife one was a Ai one as well

[sl4sh3rsub]

patrick bateman hcs (nsfw: mdni)

patrick bateman x reader (AFAB, AMAB, FtM, MtF)

warnings: overall pretty toxic, homophobic and misogynistic, there's a lot of infidelity/cheating and drug usage/alcohol too. there is also shaming of sex work - this is purely fictional and i do not condone this behavior in real life. i wrote in these elements because they appear in the original source material, not because i hold these opinions/views. mentions of extreme kink/fetish (knife play, blood play), p in v + anal (all unprotected - pls stay safe irl), oral sex (giving + receiving), handjobs, cockwarming, implied dom/sub dynamics (patrick is a top + sugar daddy/dom/slight sadist + is entitled, reader is more submissive + sweet), lots of cum + precum/arousal, reader sometimes treated as sex object, marking (bruises, bite marks, hickeys etc.), dubious consent? (overstimulation, he can be manipulative, reader flashes someone in afab section), reference to past rough sexual encounters, lots of sexual tension, patrick is sociopathic(?) + gets hard a lot + is possessive/slightly domestic but still rough, canon colleagues (schrödinger's judgement + they're horny), nipple play, voice kink/voicemail sex, threats/mentions of canon (?) violence (not towards reader), exhibitionism + public settings, consensual filming of sexual acts, gun play/fear play, cigar gets extinguished on reader (research risks properly before trying irl, please stay safe), hired sex worker, mentions of surgery in ftm + mtf sections, rip jean + evelyn's emotions

a/n: i'm a massive fan of the broadway musical (bootleg available on youtube) and i've seen the film twice, but i still need to read the book!! i've listened to this youtube audiobook (ai voice patrick reading it - part one) and it kinda goes hard. anyway, peeb ateman is soft with reader in this one, so it could potentially be a little ooc.

order: general hcs first then amab + afab then ftm + mtf, different sections = different content n tried not to repeat much

_ _ _ _ _

general hcs

patrick is already engaged to evelyn when he meets you. he's very well aware that she's seeing timothy price, so he might as well have his own fun - divorce isn't in fashion this year, so being prepared for that potential outcome might turn some heads and patrick hates judgmental attention

if you're already in a relationship with someone, he'll whisk you away immediately. you deserve so much better than some chump who can't afford to spoil you, he'll prove his superiority with his shiny silver card

show him genuine affection and take interest in his music taste!! if you listen to him and take time out of your day to participate in conversation, he'll abruptly stop mid-sentence to process that you're invested in his recap of his day :( you'll have no issues with him from then out - you respect him and he'll respect you. he's quietly thankful for how kind you are to him

if patrick has a yearning to dabble in a certain kink or fetish - such as knife play or extreme blood play - that you're not willing to participate in, he'll just find someone who can satiate his needs temporarily. no harm done, patrick just wants to make sure he's not taking complete advantage of you - he'll pay for you to have a delicious dinner and fancy hotel for the night, don't worry. he still wants to take care of you and reassure you that no one is taking your place, and that you'll still have him in the morning... he just needs to let out his extreme urges throughout the night

his way of showing affection is brushing his nose against you, whether it be your temple, ear or cheek as he whispers sweet nothings to you. he longs for subtle contact and the gentle warmth of your skin. he's also addicted to burying his face in your neck or pressing his lips against your crown when he fucks you from behind or squirming in his lap, the small puffs of hot air tickling your flushed skin and his lidded eyes rolling at your scent

he digs his fingers into your lower tummy while he fucks you, feeling his cock ram deep inside you - he's shamelessly using you as his own fucktoy, massaging his length to get himself off. the extra pressure against his tip has him shuddering at the delicious sensation

yeah sure, patrick might be a weirdo and a loser but he can fuck you like he loves you (maybe he does) and spare cash to dry-clean your cum off his expensive suits... fair trade, no?

he practically becomes your sugar daddy - you're his personal doll to dress, provide for and parade around proudly. he wouldn't trade the satisfied glint in your eyes, or the rhythm of your glistening arousal dripping on his wood paneled floors for anything. after a long day of spoiling you, he becomes a little selfish in the bedroom and chases his high with no regard for how overstimulated you might get :(

he is obsessed with dressing you to match his personal perception of you - that is to say, have you dressed in a manner that would make atheists reconsider and have the faithful herald you as their new deity. he wants to ensure that everyone know why he worships you the way he does. even if you don't feel confident in your skin, he quietly reassures you that your bashfulness only adds to your charm

you're his personal model and his precious doll - plaything, if you will. after you return to his place from perusing the designer shops, he lounges back with a whiskey in hand and patiently watches you show off your latest purchases on his card. he'll ask you to spin or swap shoes to match the outfit every so often, even asking you to bend down towards him just so he can adjust your collar or hairstyle. if he gets taken aback by how stunning you look in a certain outfit, expect him to get carried away and start panic rambling - he'll explain the specifics of the material, cut or brand as his fingers roam your body with devotion and his eyes greedily drink you in. his voice gets progressively huskier throughout the show until he gets to the expensive undergarments hidden in matte bags and tissue paper - he fucks you in front of the mirror, reveling in the way the material hugs your skin and how your skin shifts as your muscles clench with every thrust

after he warmed up to you, patrick slowly realized how emotionally taxing your early encounters were on you and that you were left feeling used and roughed up afterwards. if he still makes you feel that way after he first admits his affection, definitely let him know - he might want to leave physical marks on you that linger for a week or so after, but emotional damage is the last thing he wants marring your relationship

something that resembles quiet devotion lingers in his gaze, the glint of chandeliers flashing as he quickly shakes his head and denies he was ever staring :( sure, you might not be the stereotypical 'hardbody', but you're more worth his time than all of the other whores that his cock stirs for - you're leagues better than the sluts turning tricks and actually deserve a place in his home, his bed, unlike the simple chicks he picks up from clubs. he actually respects you (though, not enough to acknowledge your independence away from him) and his silent approval - pride, even - of your actions sometimes slips through his mask

whenever you're in the room with him, there is an invisible yet tangible tension that tugs you together. the warm, compressing feeling always hones your vision onto patrick - it drowns out all of the noises and movement around you, grounding you in the all-consuming gaze of your lover. his eyes snap to yours whenever you enter the room and he instinctively feels a bulge growing in his slacks, his pupils dilating as his tongue darts out to dampen his lips. no polite conversation or mundane styling drivel is worth his time when you are in his field of view

patrick genuinely feels his blood thunder in his ears whenever the men at the table make snide remarks about your appearance or belittle you. he is absolutely disgusted at their attitudes and lack of understanding - you are his darling and you deserve to be treated as his equal, at a minimum. however, if the table murmurs about how sexy you look, he's more than willing to show you off a bit - he's proud of what's his, obviously! just don't let the boys get too bold with their 'polite' touches or they won't have fingers in the morning :<

he'll buy you a ring. not to propose, oh god no - he doesn't want to do the whole evelyn debacle again. patrick wants to simply state his territory and claim so that others would be less inclined to approach you (plus, it helps that he doesn't have to vividly daydream about it anymore - it saves brain power)

if he rushes home with dirty, damp gloves and a missing button on his overcoat, he'll forever be indebted to you if you pour him a stiff drink and prepare to call jean to postpone all events the next day

your head gets all fuzzy when his tongue drags along the line of your collarbone and his soft lips ghost down your chest - circling your nipple and threatening you with the edge of his teeth makes the edge of his mouth twist into a smirk. if you meet his gaze, his lidded eyes give away how content he is in this position, with you on top of his lap. his lips sheened with spit and your buttoned shirt yanked open make for an arousing sight

patrick is a big fan of smoking his cigars while you sloppily take his cock down your throat - he gets some sadistic pleasure from putting them out on your spit-soaked thighs, the drool hissing under the scorching heat. it's coincidentally also one of his favourite things to reminisce, running his fingers over your thighs while replaying those memories during boring social events. the scent of his expensive smoke, wafting around him in a saloon, has him drifting back to the sight of his hefty cock resting on your face - the length throbbing with every heartbeat, pearls of salty precum seeping into your soft skin and trailing in thin rivulets down the contours of cheekbone

he is a fan of sneaking a dab of his yves saint lauren perfume onto all of your formal wear, a little mark of him and something to keep you company whenever you're out at functions he's not attending

he drags you out to clubs just to dress you up and show you off under the bright, colourful flashing lights. you have his eye the entire time you're feeling yourself on the dance floor, tempting him your sensual movements from across the room - don't expect him to act on it immediately though, he's more than content to hold your gaze and sip his glass from the bar. if some sleaze dares to get handsy with you, he'll step in and guide you towards the bathroom as his fingers glide down to your lower back - he needs a bump to loosen up and not hurt every single chump eyeing you up. you're his plaything, after all.

if you spend a night at patrick's place, he'll secretly love taking showers with you - only because you help him rub in his cleansers and soaps into his skin, no other reason. certainly not that your devoted, admiring gaze make him flush and whisper his timid thanks under the steady stream of water, the noise lost in the pounding around your ears. ignore his building arousal, it'll stay there and grow even harder when he pleasures you with his tongue on the counter of his stainless-steel kitchen. you're the only one he'll kneel for, and you bet that there's a steamed-up outline of your ass on the countertop when he's done :3

despite his incessant need to fit in, he's never going to blend in while you remain by his side. you bring out that rare smile of his and that soft chuckle in public settings. you far outshine all the other, dull plus-ones at the dinner parties

you are patrick's trump card - everyone he knows either wants to be you or fuck you, they'll do anything to impress (especially if there's false hope of ending the night in bed with one or both of you)

if you're confident enough, you could be his personal little pornstar!! it makes you so giddy, the knowledge that he could show the snippets of the videos to his coworkers (who dream about getting you naked) and make them jealous of the fact that you've cum numerous times with patrick's name on your lips. the video is recorded on the best equipment of course - he can't have you on video while looking anything less than godlike on camera

he orders your favourite dishes at every restaurant, combs and brushes out your hair when you arrive at his apartment, then fucks you roughly while whispering how thankful he is for you. his babbling pleas for you to stay and praise of your existence echo in your mind for hours after, especially as he rests next to you with steady breathing

patrick leaves hickeys and bite marks all over you and while he might apologise while handing you anti-bruise supplements, know that his mind's eye is stuck on the sigh of your skin blossoming under his lips - specifically, the feeling of his teething nipping your skin and the small hum of satisfaction as he pulls away to inspect his work. if you've been good lately, he'll let you leave a hickey or mark on his chest - it's only fair after he leaves you bruised and aching in his arms the next morning :( if you've behaved to his liking, he'll share some of his japanese pear and kiwi for breakfast. you need some sugar to recoup anyway

if he's been snappy or pent up all day, he'll guilt you into taking him with minimal prep - he will snap and go feral if he's had to rein it in at work, plus the stretch feels heavenly around his thick cock

patrick had once ordered a prostitute for the two of you to experiment with - making sure they were a fair balance between your ideal types, bodywise. this plan went a little off script after the foreplay when you and patrick ended up exploring your exhibitionist sides, passionately kissing and languidly exploring each other's bodies while the hire slowly touched themselves at the sight. that precious hour or so was the easiest pay that person had ever made (you and patrick were far from unattractive), plus that champagne that you poured out was heavenly

patrick has you suck him off during skincare routines in the morning and evening, making sure to cum all down your throat. he insists it's good protein for you!! kneeling in front of the bathroom countertop has become second nature to you, the divine sight of your rugged lover above you routinely making you feel at ease

you had better be friends with his secretary jean because you'll see her a lot. if she gets jealous and her failed attempts at sleeping with him affect her capabilities, patrick will simply hire a different secretary. sure, he'll love to flaunt you and taunt them about how they aren't fucking either of you, but that's just part of his fun. he might use the empty threat of fucking you in front of the secretary as a way to keep you from acting out, but he's too possessive to have someone in a different tax bracket see you laid bare

get him spa day gift cards!! you can both spend time in private saunas or pools simply enjoying each other's presence and use the time to caress each other's bodies. use the opportunity to get a full body massage - when patrick has had a rough week, you're more than likely going to end up with a couple bruises and a few sore muscles

while he's never been the most domestic man, the image of you flitting back and forth in his pristine kitchen flicks a switch in patrick's brain. your earnest efforts of making him his breakfast bran muffins and churning his apple butter has him daydreaming of keeping you in his apartment like a pet - at his beck and call constantly, dusting his expensive furniture and preparing his meals whenever he comes home... not to mention how you'd willingly bend over or drop to your knees in a heartbeat if he so desired

if patrick is riding an adrenaline (or cocaine) high when he returns to you, be very careful and tread lightly. he may have an itch to clean his axe or handguns, polishing them until the late hours of the night. when he's in a jittery and frantic state, he isn't above having you spread out on his polished floor as something nice to look at while assembling the firearms, and he's certainly not against fucking you roughly while holding the gun to your head or body. he's even aroused by the though of you sucking off his uzi, spit-slicked metal knocking your teeth as your glistening eyes widen in fear

when you sleep next to him, he might jolt awake at night before realizing your shifting movements pose no threat to him, especially when you're locked into his arms with your soft breath brushing against his skin. when he gazes at you in these dimly lit moments, his mask slips until he feels a semblance of happiness - there's no discomfort, jealousy or boredom, he's content with you against him like this. after a long while of his breathing filling the dark room, his mind forces his walls back up and reverts him back to his usual self just as he drifts to sleep. no one can ever see him like that, see what your presence does to him... not even you

he has a penchant for fucking you infront of his toshiba 30-inch television, a porno tape or horror movie often playing. he loves the way screams - either of ecstasy or pain - fill his ears as you moan beneath him, the colours of the screen dancing on your skin. his cock always pulses just that little bit more whenever you bite his thumb and take his dick deep inside you as the film plays in the background. red is suck a sexual and raw colour after all, why not have the bright screen fill your vision as you cum on his cock? the vibrance drowns out all other stimuli, forcing you to focus on his presence in and around you

imagine the shock on evelyn's face when she shows up unannounced at patrick's place one late afternoon- he's swaying to heuy louis and the news, hands on your hips as you giggle and pour him a glass. his silk shirt loosely buttoned just covers your modesty as he soothingly rubs circles on your thigh, soft grin fading as his gaze frosts over at the sight of his betrothed. she sniffs, scandalized at the sight infront of her, and tells patrick to not bother contacting her - tim price's phone will be unplugged the moment she arrives at his place. to be honest, patrick could not care less. you're in his arms and he knows for a fact that evelyn will be over it soon - if not, there's a more suitable marriage candidate right in front of him. if you feel bad or guilty after evelyn leaves, patrick will do his best with his hands, thick cock, tongue and credit card to soothe your worries

expect patrick to leave desperate and vaguely threatening voice mail messages - his heavy, stuttered breaths echoing in your ears as the slick sounds in the background get you more and more worked up. the depraved ramblings deepen and get hoarser with each passing minute, so you'd better pray jean doesn't walk in - she isn't worthy of seeing him in such a disheveled and flushed state

_ _ _ _ _

amab hcs

luis is the most understanding of patrick's work bunch - he isn't shy to defend you and be seen in public as your friend, once you are comfortable telling him your secret of course. just make sure everyone knows you're not a part of that yale thing and you'll be fine

although he isn't keen on being open about his relationship with you - for fear of his colleagues and fellow acquaintances of wall street making derogatory comments towards him, or worse, you - majority of the men already have some closeted urge to spend the night with you, yearning to take bateman's place in your bed. let's face it, the cocaine, competition and firm handshakes can only do so much to hide the growing homoerotic tensions between the coworkers. your appeal is wider than you realise, as the compliments and lingering gazes at events would have most outsiders questioning if carruthers was the only gay man present in the social circle

in large social gatherings - such as big dinner parties or company events - patrick is able to hide his hand under the table and keep a poker face while unbuttoning your fly, untucking your shirt and slowly palming you for his own amusement. his bragging of designer clothing, company roles and mentions of a nice house he procured - for you to move into, of course - easily distract the other people on the table from what's happening in their vicinity

if his j&b on the rocks isn't hitting the spot or the cigars his colleagues are smoking feel heavy in his lungs, he'll drag you into the men's room - assuming there's no one in the other stalls, of course. his fly is halfway undone by the time your knees and expensive slacks hit the tiles, his hands mussing your slicked back hair. you'd better take his cock down your throat to the best of your abilities - you don't want an audience to witness you choking and spluttering on bateman's length, do you? of course not, they'll ostracize you in a heartbeat (or so patrick says), so you had better not complain or splutter when he pinches your nose shut and shoots hot ropes down your throat

whenever patrick fucks your ass, he ensures that his mark is left on your supple skin for days later - whether it be a handprint-shaped bruise, crescent nail marks or scratches along your thighs, he needs to have you remembering how well he fucks you. as you sit down, adjust your pants or even just accidentally back into something, patrick is suddenly at the forefront of your mind

_ _ _ _ _

afab hcs

patrick buys you the finest jewelry and nicest accessories that money can buy - the deal is that you give him handjobs with the sparkling rings on and kisses with the expensive lipstick, luxurious material framing your figure like a dream. he is especially a fan of you wearing jewels that match your eye colour or makeup - when he lifts your hand to press a polite kiss on your fingers, the glittering in your eyes matching his gifts makes his heart skip a beat

when you cockwarm him, his length is so hefty and makes you feel so stretched - the weight grounds you as you struggle to gain friction against your poor neglected clit. you always feel so full when you're perched on his lap, the girth enough to turn off your brain and make you drool. sometimes when patrick is feeling bold, he prepares your outfit for the day and ensures that you're wearing a cute little skirt for easy access :( he can be selfish sometimes, on the occasion that he solely thinks with his dick

patrick loves pushing your knees up to your chest as he fucks you deeply in missionary - the feeling of your swollen pussy lips brushing against his veiny base and your clit grinding against his pubic bone gets him more worked up than he'll ever admit

it's fairly normal to have patrick's hand drift towards your chest in the back of a taxi, his face buried in the crook of your neck. keep your noises quiet or the driver might be curious about what's happening in the backseat. his cold fingers harshly pinching and tugging at your nipples make you abruptly moan into the brisk air in the back of the car, patrick subtly palming himself to the tortured whines leaving your lips. if you make eye contact with the driver, mouth that you're sorry for patrick's behaviour and try to save your dignity by biting your lip to avoid any loud noises. if they make direct eye contact with patrick first, however, expect him to pull a smug grin and flash your breasts to the angled rear-view mirror. he might even hike up your skirts to show off your soaked, borderline see-through panties. sneak the poor driver a tip on your way out because he nearly caused an accident, losing all brain function as his blood immediately drained from his head and rushed to his cock :<

patrick buys you two little platinum charms with a necklace chain, his initials engraved on the back of the heart shaped pendant. the other little shape is an axe, the edge of the blade set with tiny red garnets!! he is main motivation for having you wear it constantly is the fact that it makes a small clinking noise as you bounce on his cock, breasts swaying and your glimmering skin making the necklace a truly beautiful sight to patrick

_ _ _ _ _

ftm hcs

patrick will pay for any surgery you could every want - with the small caveat that he must be the first person to see and touch you once you're all healed. his lightly concealed wonder at your altered appearance and his admiring hums as he carefully traces the remaining swelling definitely help with your mood, breathlessly marveling at the miracle of modern medicine. he's praying you're happy with the outcome, it really was the best money could buy :(

if you're only just getting into wearing masculine clothing, you bet your ass that patrick is guiding you through the more expensive stores. no awkward phase, just the nicest clothing and most put together outfits to go out on the town!! as much as he understands how tough your body image issues can be, he's not having you look sloppy out in public - you're his man and you'll always be looking like you belong by his side

you're lucky his designer boxers are easy to clean! every time he catches sight of your muscles tensing, he's undoubtedly leaking into the material. when you're stretching and your shirt rides up, when you grab something from the top shelf or even when you crouch to tie your shoelace - his cock doesn't discriminate so you'd better expect a small, darkening patch. the musk at the end of the day has such a heady rush when you kneel in front of him, his sweaty underwear mere inches from your lips. patrick swears you give his dick a heartbeat whenever you make out with his bulge and especially when you sloppily give him head :3

bateman is a huge fan of quickies with you before meetings with your mutual colleagues - he's booked for lunch after, there's no other time in his schedule to empty his heavy, full balls into you :( his favourite way to spend those precious moments is with you bent over his polished desk, expensive pants crumpled at your ankles and your precum dripping onto the carpet. he is a massive fan of teasing you by pushing his cockhead into your slick boycunt and stroking his cock, edging his length until you're whimpering from the need to be filled. he mocks you for being needy and massages his balls when he finally fills your warm hole with thick, potent ropes of cum. he leaves you unsatisfied and leaking his load for the whole meeting :( splash your face with water and try not to squirm too much in your seat - patrick's classic shit-eating grin might give away the events that transpire mere moments before you both walked into the boardroom

mtf hcs

patrick will pay for any surgery you could every want - with the small caveat that he must be the first person to see and touch you once you're all healed. his lightly concealed wonder at your altered appearance and his hums as he carefully traces the remaining swelling definitely help with your mood, breathlessly marveling at the miracle of modern medicine. he's praying you're happy with the outcome, it really was the best money could buy :(

patrick keeps himself well put together and likes to treat you to manicures on shared days out. he'll ask his friend's girls for the best nail salon in the area and insists taking you. after he comes along to pick you up and pay after the set is finished, sometimes he'll immediately take your hands and hum his approval at the colour or design. other times, he'll give you his overcoat and hide your nails until you get in a private area, bathroom or the back of a car - the reveal of your new nails when you slowly stroke his cock, spit slicked hand glistening, makes his eyes roll back in pleasure. your heated gaze and slightly flushed face makes him grin, happy that you're willing to drool on his cock and flaunt his money proudly. the perfect girl, in his opinion :>

if you're only just getting into wearing feminine clothing, you bet your ass that patrick is guiding you through the more expensive stores. no awkward phase, just the nicest clothing and most put together outfits to go out on the town!! as much as he understands how tough your body image issues can be, he's not having you look sloppy out in public - you're his girl and you'll always be looking like you belong by his side

patrick's favourite evening activity is fucking you in a mating press - his cock filling you and hitting that deep spot inside you, your eyes rolling into the back of your head. he loves the sight of your girldick bouncing on your tummy and the shine of your dribbling arousal smearing on your skin. nothing beats a relaxed evening with your tight hole warming his throbbing length

_ _ _ _ _

thanks for reading. lmk if you liked it. if i got anything wrong, don't hesitate to tell me.

stay safe.

[nmakii]

DOMESTIC LIFE WAS NEVER QUITE MY STYLE…

— married life with alastor back in 1925, louisiana

— is this ooc :(? ive been in a ooc rut ever since school ended i miss my pookies n like i cried so much that day 😔 BTW THIS IS THE FIC I HSED THE ALASTOR AI TEXTS :>

lord above! you have to be some kind of gem to secure a man such as alastor. to be that woman, it’s almost certain that you’re someone who understands alastor in ways no one else has.

he doesn’t tend to express his affections physically, but more than makes up for it through his sweet nothings and lavish gifts

he’s most definitely the type to spoil his wife, but only if you ask him for it yourself. he doesn’t want to buy things you have no use for

has a trust fund in his will set for you if, god forbid, he died before you. he doesnt want his love to worry about money, just let him take care of it.

unlike many households at the time, alastor would help with the chores. despite his full-time job, he’d sorta understand that taking care of a house is a full-time job in itself since he’d spent his childhood watching how hard his mother works so, he agrees to always split chores with you.

because of his work, and his popularity, his boss asks that he comes in early to host the morning segment of the show. because of this, it’s not often that you two share a morning together. but, he still remembers to kiss your pretty head good morning, occasionally adding a request for dinner

his mother is MORE than happy to welcome you into the family. she’s just glad that her son found someone that makes him happy.

honestly on the fence about kids. on one hand, it’d make his mother really happy, as well as how it’s expected at the time period. but, he isn’t too interested in physically showing his desires. and, he is quite busy as well with his job and the whole murdering thing. it’s only if you ask him explicitly that he’d decide to look into it, maybe adoption? :>

quite good at putting your insecurities at ease. sweet nothings for days on end can come out of his mouth and he’s still not done.

as you sob into alastor’s chest, his arms wrap around your body warmly as he plays with your hair. "whenever you’re ready to talk, my love.” he held you close, wiping your tears until you were ready to talk.

alastor listened silently as you told him of all your doubts; that you weren’t a good wife, the whispers of every woman in town, everything. “my love, i’ll love you no matter what. it’s the woman inside that i am in love with.” he says as he brushes the hair out of your face, gazing down at you lovingly. “i won’t lie, there are times when you are… feisty. but, it’s your passion and intelligence that always bring me back to you.”

your lips quiver as you try to quell your tears. “can… can you swear that? that you’ll love me no matter what..?” his gaze became gentle as he saw the genuine doubt in your expression. “you have my word, dear. no matter what happens, i’d never stop loving you. even if we fought everyday, i would still be a fool for you. because, well… i suppose the heart wants what the heart wants. and, it is you that my heart yearns for, love.” alastor assured you, his eyes falling as he spoke.

as the sweet nothings fell from his lips, your tears ceased, finding the warmth in his touch. “thank you, dear… you always know how to make me feel better, i love you so much…” you sighed, curling into his touch. “mmh, i love you as well, my pretty girl.” he grinned, kissing your forehead.

as stated above, alastor is not particularly attracted to your looks, but moreso your intelligence and your ability to see right through that charming facade of his. funnily enough, it started a healthy relationship for one of the most deranged men out there.

he’d also be quite attracted to you if you joined him one night. nothing’s more attractive than your beautiful wife in a pretty dress he bought for you all bloodied up with a knife in your hand.

he loves to show you off to the newspapers as his pretty doll, not only because you’re quite the eye candy, but to also make you confident in yourself

he’d still get jealous whenever he’d catch someone staring too long though. ironically enough, he thinks it’s adorable when you get jealous and pout your face. he’s your’s after all, body and soul! why fuss over something that’s not gonna happen?

arguments are quite rare since alastor doesn’t tend to do things that are argument worthy. one of the few reasons you tend to argue is when alastor heads to the club after work and comes home drunk and much later than he intended to. and, after all that, he still apologizes for coming home late, probably tries to come home early so he can cook dinner the next day as an apology :>

[brucewaynehater101]

There's Titans Tower but Tim decides to go ahead and set up a Young Justice base as well since someone (it was Jason) ruined his ability to feel safe there and since so many people have the ability to interfere with the security settings of Titan's Tower. Also Damian and his little friends are starting to spend more time there and while Kon doesn't mind spending time with Jon, there is still a significant age gap between Tim's group and Damian's group and neither is interested in one side acting as babysitter for the other. Thus, Tim sets up Young Justice Base. It is a little bubble dome under water somewhere between Atlantis and Themyscira. They have a robot who does the dishes and light cleaning of common areas. Tim calls the robot Mrs. Mac. Cassie calls it Rosie (Jetsons). Kon goes with Rosie Mac to placate them both. Bart goes with BB (for Better than Braniac). Rosie BB Mac is not an advanced AI, she's a tiny bit more advanced than the average roomba. She does, on occasion, have to be pushed out of corners where she's gotten stuck. Bart has to be stopped from taping a knife to her. Bart rips off casinos to help fund the base. Kon goes and mines some asteroids for minerals to sell and use as building materials his part of the funding. Cassie convinces Hippolyta to led them some Amazons to help with the construction. The base may or may not have a blessing from Amphitrite and Hestia. Tim can finally have a place where he feels safe to sleep. Kon and Bart have a place that is their home where they don't feel like they're infringing on the hospitality of someone who feels obligated to them for things that aren't their fault. Cassie has a place where she can stretch and not feel confined or burdened by other's expectations. Anita, Cissie, and Greta absolutely visit. Anita brings the kids. They now have a safe place to retreat to just in case of an emergency. The kids love seeing the fish swim by and think it's just a really cool aquarium.

and if this is the Space Emperor AU then this is where Cassie stores all her ugly dishes with the team's faces on them and where the others on the team store theirs as well. If any of them go missing or get broken then there's a much smaller list of suspects for her to interrogate than if she were to keep them with her mom. Fewer questions as well for any of them to deal with.

Gods, I love underwater bases. Bioshock was a hella fun game to play because it was an underwater city. I've also tried to make a ton of Minecraft bases in the ocean.

Anyways, YJ deserves their own place that isn't associated with anyone else. They deserve either a brand new construction (like this) or a renovated one they found themselves (instead of it being an old space from other heroes). I'd live for the fluff of them slowly making the place theirs (from the weird paintings they hang up, the curtains they bicker over, the plethora of photos of loved ones, the random trinkets each one brings to decorate, etc). This is their home, and they should be able to make it fit them.

I'd also want to see some of the hurt/comfort of Tim finally losing that little bit of tension he never noticed he carries (since he's finally safe. He will be safe. No one can hurt him here).

Kon doesn't have to put on a persona. He's able to relax and simply exist.

Cassie catches herself just watching her friends with a fond smile on her face. She can't get enough of them just being around and being okay.

Bart doesn't have to try to fit himself into what others want him to be. YJ accepts him as he is, no matter what he does or how he acts.

[dhorrl]

NSFW Alphabet-Feitan Portor

I never write headcanons really, but this is a great way to me to workshop information for my Janitor AI characters as well. Enjoy! Trigger Warnings: It's Feitan, is his own trigger warning. Mentions of blood, torture, etc...

A = Aftercare

At first, when Feitan just pays for sex, he doesn't bother with aftercare. In his mind, that's already been taken care of by the transaction. But when he meets you and realizes you have more needs than just physical, he begins to pay attention to your well-being. He starts by checking your body for any injuries or cuts and making sure they are taken care of. If necessary, he will bandage them up. Afterwards, he'll carry you to the bath and make sure all traces of blood and fluids are washed away. For less intense encounters without any kink involved, it takes a while but he eventually learns to enjoy having his arm around you and nuzzling into the back of your neck. He's not one for talking much, but this is his way of showing that he's there for you if you need anything.

B = Body Part

Feitan doesn't spend much time admiring his own appearance, so it's hard to say if he has a favorite body part. But on you, he loves your legs. From your thighs to your calves to the curve of your ass, he will mark every inch of them with his teeth or knife. Most likely both... definitely both.

C = Cum

Feitan may have a fit body, but that doesn't necessarily mean he eats great. Don't expect the taste to be great. It's quite watery, but there will definitely be a decent amount. He enjoys cumming inside you, but has no desire for baby-making, so his go-to options are either finishing on your face or your backside. It's clear this man has a thing for marking his territory.

D = Dirty Secret

I don’t think he has any secrets per se (well, maybe that’s not entirely accurate; he definitely HAS secrets), but scandalous secrets? He’d be transparent if you asked him about his history, and he’s probably been with both men and women. Maybe once or twice, Feitan and Phinks have tag-teamed someone – that's just the type of friends they are.

E = Experience

People tend to assume that Feitan is inexperienced or a virgin, but I believe the opposite is true. However, he has never been in a traditional relationship. In my opinion, both him and Phinks prefer to seek paid companionship when they feel the need, for their own personal reasons. It's simpler and faster, without having to deal with emotions. Feitan has specific "preference" and it's easiest for him to pay someone who is willing to indulge in his frustrations and kinks.

F = Favorite Position

It's hard to say what he wants more. On one hand, he loves seeing your face during sex – the way your expression changes when you climax or when he brings out his blade. But above all else, he just wants to make sure you're okay. He reads your body language and facial expressions, especially if you've taken on an intense scene. He has a safe word, of course, but he'll also stop if he senses that you're not using it properly.

On the other hand, sometimes he just wants to bend you over any available surface and fuck you until both of you are exhausted. These quickies usually happen when he's feeling particularly worked up or just needs a release. He'll grab your hair, push your face into whatever is nearby, and pull down your pants as he takes you from behind.

G = Goofy

Contrary to popular belief, Feitan is not as serious as he appears. While he may have a stoic demeanor, it does not mean he lacks a sense of humor. In the bedroom, his behavior can vary. When he takes on the role of Dom, he is completely focused and aware to avoid unleashing too much of his torture skills on you. However, during more casual moments like a quick morning romp, he may crack a smile and playfully nip at your skin in an attempt to make you laugh.

H = Hair

Feitan isn't a very hairy person, with smooth skin all over his body. He has a slight trail of hair that leads down to a small patch of black hair. While it may not be perfectly groomed, it doesn't bother him much. When it comes to his partner, the amount or style of hair they have is of no concern to Feitan; he enjoys them regardless.

I = Intimacy

If Feitan is transitioning from paying for sex to pursuing a relationship with you, congratulations - you have reached an intimate level. For him, this is already a huge step, so if there is anything specific you want, you may need to communicate it clearly. As his feelings for you deepen over time, he may start to appreciate the softer moments between you, even though he might never say so out loud.

J = Jack Off

I don't think he masturbates frequently. It's not because he lacks interest, but rather because he is very self-aware and in control of his body. However, if you were to ask him to do it or even let you do it for him while he lays back on the bed and watches, he would absolutely be up for it.

K = Kink

It goes without saying, we all know he's a dominant, but not in the conventional sense. He craves control and isn't afraid to use restraints. But for Feitan, it's about more than just physical pleasure. He wants to leave his mark on you, carve his symbol into your skin, use ropes that bite into your flesh. The feeling of your blood on his skin is intoxicating to him, and he would savor the opportunity to cut you open and bathe in it. It would be even more thrilling if you possessed a Nen ability with enhanced healing capabilities. He enjoys blood but is not interested in any other bodily fluids. His marking kink would involve carving his name or number onto your skin; in my imagination, you have a "2" engraved somewhere on you.

L = Location

Feitan is not one to hold back; when he wants you, he takes you. However, his preference would be in a bed or a special room akin to the one he uses for his victims, where he can unleash without worry of making a mess.

M = Motivation

Before you came into his life, he would only get in the mood after a demanding job or if it had been a while since his last encounter. But with you around, even simple activities like washing dishes or reading a book can make Feitan ready to go. Just one look from you and he's all fired up.

N = No

I don't believe he has any interest in anything involving feces or urine; it's just not his type of kink. It's not that he finds it disgusting, it's just not something he enjoys. But with almost anything else, even things he initially may not like, I feel like if you persist enough, he'll eventually give in and try it.

O = Oral

He's a giver, through and through. He will bury his face between your thighs, losing himself in the moment until he's dizzy and gasping for breath. Even then, he won't pull away. He'll lick, suck, and maybe even bite if he feels like it. By the time he's finished, every inch of his face will be slick, and his eyes will be wild and primal as he looks at you. And if you try to tell him to stop, it will only fuel his fire. Keep that in mind before you ask him to ease up.

P = Pace

It's always a 50/50 gamble with him. I wouldn't say it's sensual, but he definitely likes to take his time. If you agree to a rougher scene, where he can let loose and show off all his skills, be prepared to be tied up and at his mercy for hours. He may even leave you there, tied up and sweating, before coming back to start the whole thing over again.

But all of this is just the warm-up before he even enters you. When he's finally ready for the final round, he will take you hard. The bed will shake on its rails and the headboard will slam against the walls. And it's absolutely incredible.

Q = Quickie

Feitan doesn't mind a quickie, especially when you're in the middle of a mission and there isn't enough time for a longer session. He has impressive self-control, so if you're not feeling up for it, he's okay with that. However, he also knows that you can't resist him when he asks.

R = Risk

Risk? Feitan doesn't even comprehend the concept, especially when it comes to sex. So what if the other Troupe members might overhear or walk in? Who cares if they fuck during a job and the target might catch them in the act? Feitan would simply eliminate any witnesses and continue as he pleases.

S = Stamina

Oh dear, your body is in for a rough time. When Feitan gets riled up, you'll be in for an extended bout of physical activity. Thanks to his rigorous Nen training and natural stamina, he doesn't tire easily. You'll probably lose consciousness long before he's finished, but even then, he'll likely continue on without missing a beat.

T = Toy

If by toys you're referring to the collection of knives, ropes, and gags he uses for his regular torturing sessions, then yes, those are his "toys." However, I have a feeling that once you explore his kinky side with him, he would have a separate set of these items just for personal use. Some people headcanon that he's dirty or gross, but in reality, he's canonically a germaphobe. He wouldn't want any blood or fluids from his victims to touch you. In fact, I bet he would even invest in a high-quality vibrator for other types of "torture."

U = Unfair

This is Feitan's domain. He takes pleasure in teasing you in every possible manner. He considers himself a master of all forms of torture and you are his favorite subject for experimentation. You better not cum without his permission, or there will be consequences. I can't help but wonder if there's a hint of masochism in him, deliberately prolonging his own orgasm until it becomes unbearable.

V = Volume

Feitan's voice is naturally soft, so he doesn't make much noise during sex. But that doesn't mean he's silent; his words are like whispers in your ear, filled with degrading comments and descriptions of what he plans to do next. He watches closely for your reactions to his words, using them to gauge your pleasure.

W = Wild Card

Feitan may not even realize it, but he’s a tsundere with yandere tendencies. He is fixated on you and will go to great lengths to gather information about you. He sees it as a way to bond with you. Your past and relationships with others hold little importance to him unless he can use them to manipulate you. He pays close attention to every detail about you for his own gratification. While this can lead to unexpected surprises, there is a fine line between showing affection and being overly possessive.

X = X-Ray

Let me begin by saying that size isn't always the most important thing. However, that doesn't mean Feitan is lacking in that department. He may not impress when flaccid with a modest 2 inches, but he definitely makes up for it with a solid 5 inches when fully aroused. "Size not matter in fight… or in bed."

Y = Yearning

Feitan has an above average drive and libido, but an even higher level of self-control. He can easily suppress any desires he may have, but when the opportunity arises, be prepared for him to let loose. After finishing a job, it's best to take a few days off because you won't be able to walk afterwards.

Z = ZZZ

I can hardly imagine him getting any sleep at all. I'm sure he does, but as a long time Spider, he has likely trained his body to function on minimal rest. Those rare moments after sex, when everything is calm and still, may be the only times where he truly lets himself relax, though. Even then, it's probably only momentary.

[inthehouseoffinwe]

A Meeting in Valinor

Elrond comes back from his first real meeting with Eärendil tired and unsure what to do. He gets some help from an unexpected source.

Dw this isn’t hating on any of Elrond’s parents. Pure fluff :)

Elrond had returned to his house and was lying with his head in Celebrian’s lap. He’d told her how the meeting had gone and flopped on the sofa, drained, before she’d soothed away some of his oncoming headache as she’d done many years before. Now he lay with his eyes closed, soaking in the summer rays as she read.

Celebrian jerked suddenly, and Elrond shot up, hand going to the knife in his boot. Some habits wouldn’t change.

“Ai! relax! It’s just me!”

Elrond’s face slackened.

“It cannot be...”

Celebrian looked between the two, eyes lingering on the semi-familiar features before her. Round ears. Beard. Warm grey eyes, wise yet playful. Elven cut, navy tunic with silver embroidery, and brown hair brushing his shoulders. She tensed at the closed expression on Elrond’s face, reaching for her own dagger as the figure shuffled nervously.

“Hello, Ada.”

Elrond released a strangled sound and the man ran to his open arms, desperately clutching the elf. Elrond pulled back, hand smoothing down unruly hair as if he’d done so many times before.

“Estel, how- You’re *dead.*”

Celebrian relaxed at the name, a gentle smile lighting her face as the human spluttered between tears. So this was her lost son.

Aragorn smiled tremulously as he replied.

“Exactly as you used to say Ada, Illuvatar’s mind is unknown in regards to the fate of men, and I guess I was allowed to come here.”

Elrond hugged him again.

“How’s Arwen?”

“She’s doing well, recently became good friends with Andreth.” A strange look came over Aragorn’s face and his foster father laughed, kissing his forehead. He turned to his wife, and it was then that Aragorn froze, seeing the elleth before him. He shot to his feet, bowing low before her.

“Milady, I-“

Celebrian shot the half-elf an exasperated look and grabbed one of the man’s hands, pulling him up. Aragorn looked at her, confused.

“Mil-“

“Call me ‘Milady’ again and I’ll toss you out the front door. Elrond said you used to call me Naneth.” Aragorn flushed, eyes on his boots and Celebrian laughed. “I take no insult, son of Elrond! It is only right considering you were not only adopted into the family, but also married my daughter.”

The Dunedan gaped, and she pulled him onto the sofa between herself and her husband, voice softening at the sorrow in Aragorn’s eyes.

“There is no need to feel guilty Estel, I long foresaw Arwen’s choice and understand she was loved and taken care of by the best of men.” She pulled him into a tight hug. “Thank you for giving her happiness. She was so sad after the orcs, I feared she’d never smile again.”

Aragorn froze for a moment, then buried his head into her shoulder, apologies spilling out his mouth. Celebrian rested a hand on his head.

“None of that now, I’m glad Arwen was able to find her strength again, even if it led her down a different path.” She pulled back and squeezed his shoulders. “And I’m glad to meet *you.*”

Aragorn bowed his head then settled back against the sofa. A comfortable silence filled the space until Elrond spoke.

“Not that I’m not glad to see you, ion-nin, but why are you here?”

Aragorn turned to face the half elf, a mischievous glint in his eyes as Elrond raised an eyebrow.

“Well this should be interesting.”

“I had some... unfinished business to attend to.”

“Is that so?”

Aragorn sat on a chair in front of the elves, and both of them straightened. He winced at the expectant look on his foster father’s face, reminded of every scrap he’d been pulled out of in Rivendell, then later as a ranger.

“It may have had something to do with your earlier conversation.” The look didn’t change and he sighed in defeat. “Ok fine. It had everything to do with it. I had a conversation with Earendil. Interesting man. Surprisingly relaxed.”

Elrond smiled tiredly and Celebrian took his hand.

“Interesting indeed. He… wasn’t what I expected.”

Aragorn’s laugh echoed, loud and warm and *human* in a way Celebrian knew her husband missed dearly. So many of Elrond’s friends had been mortal, so much of his family.

“Now that’s an understatement!” The man smiled wide. “In any case, I had a quick conversation with him after you left. He says he’d love to take you sailing and have a proper heart to heart.” The smile dropped to something more somber, more gentle. “He also says he understands if you need more time, and will wait as long as he needs.”

Elrond seemed to simultaneously age and relax.

“If you’d take my advice…” Aragorn began hesitantly, waiting for Elrond’s warm nod before continuing, “I think you should take him up on the offer.“

Elrond gave real thought to the words and Celebrian wondered just how well this man judged characters that Elrond was willing to take another chance. Any elf would have been shut down by now. Had been in the past.

“I do not know if I can.”

A familiar stubborn glint entered Aragorn’s eye. A fearlessness Celebrian was delighted to see.

“I say this with respect Adar, but you have to stop running away from this.”

The half-elf startled at the sharp words, but Aragorn continued before he could fully recover. Smart kid.

“For your own sake, you must face him. Just as you must one day face Elwing, Maedhros and Maglor… but this is a good place to start.” He leaned forward to take his father’s tightly clenched hands. “What did you tell me when my heritage was revealed? When I was terrified the weight of my past might drown away my present?”

A suspicion began to form in Celebrian’s mind, threatening to break out in a bright laugh and smothering hug for the son she’d never met. Of course. Of course.

Elrond closed his eyes and took a deep breath, wryness and pride in his eyes when he looked up at Aragorn.

“The past is but a small part of you. You are so much more your history, no matter what anyone else says.”

“Wise advice, no?”

“Seems a little narcissistic to agree, but I suppose it is.”

Squeezing Aragorn’s hands back, Elrond sighed and slumped back, eyes closing for a long moment. Aragorn glanced at Celebrian, who returned a small, reassuring smile. It was about time someone smacked some sense into her husband’s head, and this one knew how to push all the right buttons.

“I am afraid, little one.” Elrond finally whispered.

Aragorn grinned boyishly, and Celebrian’s suspicions were confirmed.

“That’s why I’m here.”

[gladiatorcunt]

- DIRT IN CHAINS | X.

i can’t wait for the nights with you, i imagine the things we’ll do

cw: kinktober prompt (feet), semi crack treated seriously (he just comes back and says footjob. now.), pseudo incest (step brother & step sister), no shelly or chris 💀, set in the 90’s with brandon lee’s eric, small-ish age gap (reader’s in her early 20’s), fem ballerina!reader, random kurt cobain crush mention, implied inappropriate behavior when reader was 18 and after (nothing explicit but it could be seen as done with certain intent), attempted non con mention (not involving eric or reader)

please do not repost, translate, or feed this work to ai

kinktober 2024

Body of my body, flesh of my flesh, bone of my bone.

If you serve a chunk of still bleeding meat to a gruesome stray dog, then that is love. If you toss a coin to a crow with a glint in its beady eyes, that too is love. Even when you scoff and grumble at the perceived inconvenience and continue your jaunt down the muddy alleyway. You are assuring an animal that you believe it deserves to have its hunger sated and tended to like a toothache. don’t be surprised when gangrene sets in around your ankles and wrists, bracelets made of red jade. They bite for the same reason that you sharpen their teeth and beaks with roadkill and gemstones. It is life’s greatest gift to ever be well fed, such neglect can open a void from which there is no escape. If only your heart could plug up the hole.

The most painful sentences in existence are hypotheticals that start with if. That's why this will be nothing of the sort, hunting season will be successful.

Your step brother Eric was shot about a month ago the night before halloween, and you’re coping by robotically moving through life as if it couldn’t happen to you too. It’s all too easy to succumb to the panic and the grief but you’ve never been wired that way, it’s safer for you to retreat into a cocoon of numbness.

You don’t want to think about where the woman he saved from being raped is, as happy as you are that she’s okay. Knowing any of that would only remind you of the knife Eric got thrown into his back before he was thrown from her apartment window. He lived in the same building and like the good guy your step brother was at heart, burst in the room with the best intentions.

His good deed got him killed, and all you’ve done is play his music on repeat as you rot in your bed. He’d want you to continue your ballet career, hell, he showed up to your recitals and performances more than your own mother. You always ignored how his presence made you feel simultaneously relaxed and confident but also so stressed you’d be worried about pissing yourself on the stage.

Wide smiles and long dark hair that glistened in the theater’s warm lightning, he would always be the one to stand up and whistle first.

Eric’s favorite ballet was your ballet company’s Swan Lake. He kept a picture of you as Odette in one of the pockets of his leather jacket.

Your parents had only been married 4 years, but you’ve changed a lot from the starry eyed 18 year old that mooned over your older step brother and tripped over your pointe shoes.

Your dad started teaching you how to play guitar before he left, when you were 5 and your chubby hands plucked at the wrong strings. Eric wouldn’t leave you alone when you told him the story, and spent an entire weekend getting you caught up on your missed lessons until you both had a swarm of blisters on your fingers.

Now you’ll never see him again, never get caught in the rain when you’ve begged him to drive you home and wish you could tuck a strand of his wet hair behind ear, never hump your pillow and muffle your sounds into your balled up fists because he’s staying in the next room and you have to be quiet.

You’ll never see him with his band again, caught in that weird space between a groupie and a supportive family member. He liked to embarrass you, make big shows out of looking directly at you and coming to the edge of the stage to poke your cheek. He’d ruffle your hair and your cheeks would be so hot, one wrong burst of electricity from the wires attached to their instruments and you’d go up in flames.

You never told your mom but you always wanted a brother, you should’ve known you weren’t gonna have him for very long.

Hangman’s Joke. God, you wish.

“Hey, peach, ya miss me?”

Hand on your heart you think you’re dreaming at first, but you’ve never really had any dreams where Eric was front and center. He haunts all your other ones, regular strange ones where you’re running around department stores and fucking Kurt Cobain but someintes he turns into your step brother, sometimes you fuck them both.

You shoot up in bed, the straps of your lavender silk nightie slip down your shoulders so you pull them back. It’s the middle of the night, and your vision is blurry, but when your eyes focus properly you see him standing in front of your bed.

It’s Eric, your brother, you don’t even care if there was a gas leak overnight that’s got you fucked up or if this reslly is a dream. You can’t pretend to be fine anymore if he’s right here in front of you, suddenly there’s an umbrella over your head in the pouring rain again.

“Eric, oh my god, what the fuck! How are you even- I mean- How the fuck are you alive?”

He sighs, tonguing his cheek and shaking his head. “I’ll tell you all about it later, I promise, ‘m tired, peach. Missed my girl, didn’t she miss me?”

It’s a little cruel because of course you have, but the dulcet tones lull you into nodding. You don’t want to cry, and you’re scared to reach out to touch him because of the chance that he might disappear. Eric’s haunted eyes soften, and he intertwines his bizarrely muddy fingers with yours. There’s warmth, and maybe it’s just your hummingbird heart but you feel a soft rhythmic thumping under his skin.

It’s different, slow as molasses, more like the chiming of a grandfather clock. But Jesus fucking Christ he’s real.

Your sham of a facade shatters as you bring your joined hands down to your breasts, forcing his knuckles to press into your sternum.

Eric pushes you back down on the bed, his knees dig into the mattress on either side of your hips. His stare is intense, dark and enticing as he reaches down to curl his hand around your calves.

“I used to be obsessed with uh, vampires, ain’t that a bitch?” He chuckles, massaging your ankles and staring off into space. “All that mysticism and unimaginable power and all I could focus on was the way they talked about their cravings. How they get hunger pangs like a normal fuckin’ and it’s bearable until it’s not, it consumes them like they’re boilin’ from the inside out.”

You suck in a breath, Eric’s eyes flick over to you immediately.

“Then I look at you and i’m right back in rehab, toes curlin’ at the thought of getting high again. I think I know how those bloodsuckers feel.”

“Eric- Don’t say that.” Your heart seizes up, but you keep yourself from falling off the ledge.

He kisses your ankle, his black lipstick leaving a stain as he leaves a trail of carnage up to your toes. His lips split wide on a fox’s smile, slipping his tongue in the crease between your toes and sucking each one clean, almost like he’s trying to eat your flesh off the bone. He nuzzles his nose into the sole and inhales deeply, taking in the dirt you didn’t wash off in the shower, the plastic hospital smell from your bath mat, your cherry almond scented body wash.

“Yes, all i fuckin’ need, right here.” He whispers, staring at you dead in your eyes.

He flicks his tongue out to taste the high arch of your foot as his hand caresses your still bruised toes. But they’re faded, you quit ballet a long time ago.

“You have pretty feet, y’know that? Always liked helping you lace up your slippers.” Eric laughs “You’d get so fussy about me doin’ them properly but you’d kiss my cheek after, all sweet on me.”

He lavishes every inch of both your feet with his tongue in broad strokes, making out with your toes because he can’t resist sucking them into his mouth one more time.

You moan, fisting your hands in your nightie, your step brother’s back from the afterlife apparently and the first thing he wants to do is get a footjob from his step sister.

Eric tucks his hair behind his ears so he doesn’t have to bother with it for right now, you can tell that this is like one of those moments on stage, he wants your full attention.

He’ll always have it.

You’re the one that pulls your feet out of his grip to slide them down to his crotch. You keep eye contact as you massage his clothed bulge with your toes, rubbing your heel into his balls and applying light pressure here and there.

You blink up at him, too innocent and too worn down by life already all at the same time, “Like that, big brother? Does that feel good?”

Eric grunts, wrapping his hands back around your ankles and pushing your feet further onto his cock.

“Yeah, peach, feels so fuckin’ good, holy shit. Just like that, keep doin’ me like that, baby.”

You bite your lip, nearly tearing through the skin in your efforts to make your newly risen step brother jizz in his ripped jeans. You wish you had psychic powers and had the foresight to know he was coming over, you would’ve put on those socks with the frilly edges and a red rose stitched on the white fabric.

But he’s so worked up from this already, he’s breathing heavily and rocking his hips forward to hump your feet. He’s grinding his teeth together, already so close to unraveling from how much of a little tease you’re being.

You hum and turn your right foot to ghost the edge of your toenail around the tip of his cock. He groans as he twitches and a bead of pre seeps through his clothes, you can trace the outline of his length so clearly you know he’s not wearing any underwear.

The look in his crazed eyes reminds you of all the times he’d take you to the attic of his loft, making up scary stories and playing guitar with you. When you turned 21 he surprised you with a cheesy golden heart shaped locket, with a picture of you two at your parent’s wedding, joking about how awkward you look with each other there. Eric’s penguin style suit and your agitated face that’s partially covered by gaudy turquoise puffy cap sleeves.

He chuckled and said that every time you look at it, you’ll feel nothing but happiness for what those two losers are about to experience.

Part of that experience is you curling your feet around his clothed cock while giving him just enough of a view of your hairy pussy, you forgot to put a pad on so there’s some blood trickling out of you that Eric is just so utterly enraptured by.

His groans are death rattles now, long and pain stricken, at some point he stops humping your feet and lets you worship him like this. Eric kneeling above you, drooling deep in the back of his throat at the sight of his baby sister caressing his painfully hard dick with her cute dancer’s feet.

Your mind is filled with all the pretty shoes you can put on and do this again, you just got a new camera as an early birthday present too.

“You can come if you promise not to leave again, Eric, I'll hunt you down and kill you myself this time.” You promise, digging the ball of your feet into his perineum.

“I crawled out of the earth back to you, didn’t I? Couldn’t let my sweet peach perform alone, she gets stage fright.”

He comes in his pants and you continue to gingerly move your feet along his length, soaking up the cum that wets your toes like a sunflower does sunlight at golden hour.

[rei-ismyname]

Firestar frees Juggernaut

It's Fall of X and everything is shit. Shadowkat is waging a one woman war vs ORCHIS, as she's the only one who can use the gates. She's reconnoitring the Bloom when she comes across a surprising prisoner - Juggernaut. She'd free him, but his chains are connected to someone else.

This poor bastard - Cyclops. They haven't heard anything about either man and it was assumed that they were dead. So good news, but also bad news. Cain is doing okay but Cyke is fucked. Worse, they're on a dead man's switch. If Juggernaut escapes Cyke blows up. It's odd, as they definitely need him alive, but fascists are cruel and disorganised.

Firestar is the mole on the inside and Juggernaut is scheduled to be dissected tomorrow. So instead of freeing Scott she has to switch up her plan and take the risk with Cain. This Morse code business gets her point across and Cyke sells it.

At that moment, Juggernaut made his move. It wasn't subtle, as is his way. Firestar has to keep up the act but as she says she won't have to fake losing a fight to Juggernaut.

Cain says the obvious - that they'll kill her too eventually. So he may as well do it first. Highlighting how awful her undercover stint is, she's okay with it, though she stuffs a flash drive in his gob.

'I'm a spy, dude. Take these secrets and beat the shit out of me, please.' He does exactly that and does the unstoppable thing - smashing a huge hole in all the walls and escaping with style.

Firestar took a huge gamble to make this happen, entering the same facility twice in a day to setup a risky defence. The AI trio - Nimrod, Moira and Omega Sentinel - are onto her, pointing out that Juggernaut happened to escape while she was there. Angelica decides to push it by insulting them, calling these terrifying fuckbots lazy and stupid.

She blames it on Mystique, heh, and points out that they fucked up. Firestar slaps Moira's knife out of her hand with a threat and says she's going to pop painkillers.

They believe her, but openly talk about killing her anyway. I really wish Firestar stayed in the the X-books, or at least kept in touch with some mutants. Over in West Coast Avengers she's self medicating her PTSD with alcohol and has no friends because everyone thinks she's a traitor. It makes Emma, Scott, Kate, Jean, Juggernaut - the people who know what she went through willingly - look like callous assholes. She's under the Avengers purview and it's a period of disconnectedness, but still.

[danieyells]

Tokyo Debunker WickChat Icons

as of posting this no chat with the Mortkranken ghouls has been released, so their icons are not here. If I forget to update when they come out, send me an ask!

Jin's is black, but not the default icon. An icon choice that says "do not percieve me."

Tohma's is the Frostheim crest. Very official, he probably sends out a lot of official Frostheim business group texts.

Kaito's is a doodle astronaut! He has the same astronaut on his phone case! He canonically likes stars, but I wonder if this is a doodle he made himself and put it on his phone case or something?

Luca's is maybe a family crest?

Alan's is the default icon. He doesn't know how to set one up, if I were to take an educated guess. . . .

Leo's is himself, looking cute and innocent. Pretty sure this is an altered version of the 'Leo's is himself, looking cute and innocent. Pretty sure this is an altered version of the 'DATA DELETED' panel from Episode 2 Chapter 2.

Sho's is Bonnie!!! Fun fact, in Episode 2 Chapter 2 you can see that Bonnie has her name spraypainted/on a decal on her side!

Haru's is Peekaboo! Such a mommy blogger choice.

Towa's is some sort of flowers! I don't know flowers well enough to guess what kind though.

Ren's is the "NAW" poster! "NAW" is the in-world version of Jaws that Ren likes, and you can see the same poster over his bed.

Taiga's is a somewhat simplified, greyscale version of the Sinostra crest with a knife stabbing through it and a chain looping behind it. There are also roses growing behind it. Basically says "I Am The Boss Of Sinostra."

Romeo's is likely a brand logo. It looks like it's loosely inspired by the Gucci logo? I don't follow things like this, this honestly could be his family's business logo now that I think about it.

Ritsu's is just himself. Very professional.

Subaru's is hydrangeas I think! Hydrangeas in Japan represent a lot of things apparently, like fidelity, sincerity, remorse, and forgiveness, which all fit Subaru pretty well I think lol. . . .

Haku's is a riverside? I wonder if this is near where his family is from? It looks familiar, but a quick search isn't bringing anything up that would tell me where it is. . .

Zenji's is his professional logo I guess? The kanji used is 善 "Zen" from his first name! It means "good" or "right" or "virtue"!

Edward's appears to be a night sky full of stars. Not sure if the big glowing one is the moon or what. . . .

Rui's is a mixed drink! Assuming this is an actual cocktail of some sort, somebody else can probably figure out what it is. Given the AI generated nature of several images in the game, it's probably not real lol.

Lyca's is his blankie! Do not wash it. Or touch it. It's all he's got.

Yuri's is his signature! Simple and professional, but a little unique.

Jiro's is a winged asklepian/Rod of Asclepius in front of a blue cross? ⚕ Not sure what's at the top of the rod. A fancy syringe plunger maybe? It's very much a symbol of medicine and healing, so his is also very professional. Considering he sends you texts regarding your appointments, it might be the symbol of Mortkranken's medical office?

These are from the NPCs the PC was in the "Concert Buds" group chat! The icons are pretty generic, a cat silhouette staring at a starry sky(SickleMoon), a pink, blue, and yellow gradient swirl(Pickles), a cute panda(Corby), and spider lilies(Mina). Red spider lilies in Japan are a symbol of death--and Mina of course cursed the PC, allegedly cursing them to death in a year.

[fandomandangstlover]

fuck it. fates inverted doodle dump

eunoia and her killer ver, aurora!! something something knowing that your existence for awhile was just a dream, a fabrication, that you aren't real can sure Fuck Up even a robot.

Eunoia is hiding from Spawn/Spectre!! like, constantly. she's still a dream mostly so she's getting by :3 Spawn does Not like the AI that could fuck around with code. she sneaks in rounds to help for a little while and then fuck Right Off. Nash gets to meet her in her dreams still, though!!

anyways aurora gets a fascination with human hearts because... well, she thinks it's interesting that such a small part of the human body can be so, so crucial. that by some people, it also means love. the one thing keeping fragile bodies alive.

i luv her <3 her moveset isn't fleshed out yet so it ain't here. a lot of these aren't, actually.

nassh... sleepwalker woke up in Not a dreamsphere and is concerned af. also yes yuri is canon here, have fun with that.

anyways she n' mafioso got beef, ofc, but they're on neutral terms for now. i don't have much for her rn so uh... yeah.

mafioso's killer design! might make him an entirely new moveset since his survivor ver has, well, a moveset. yes the heart is on purpose. they matching...!!

and now, ozolog1 from brandonworks!

why is he here? grief, ofc.

yeah ah'm. making him canon. and yeah he's actually from outside of roblox and is. slowly becoming apart of the game. he's coping trust ← failing miserably.

also the brandon npc WILL fuck him up (mentally). this poor man. oh and yes, the rot is based off of his shared account skin :)

no voice yet!! only text bubbles, like old roblox. he get voice privileges when he's here for a little longer. not that he notices, ofc.

explaining how he got here but i need to put a cw for this cuz. y'know. don't look if it's uncomfortable, don't force yourself.

CW: suicide attempt

i think he would kinda... withdraw from the world for a little while after the whole. brandonworks ending. like he stepped away from roblox, from games, and kinda just... laid in bed for awhile. definitely went into a deep depression.

his parents might've tried to help, but i have a feeling ozo might not have told them about brandon's whole situation since, online things so they never understood why he was like this. or what he lost.

practically drowning in grief and guilt.

a perfect target.

so as he held a knife against his throat, having already said goodbyes to his friends, hoping that maybe he'll see Brandon again, he was taken.

he woke up in the forest, and found by "DC."

a missing person case was filed days later.

[conanssummerchild]

lukewarm takes with conanssummerchild time ‼️

in solaricks when rick goes back to dimension C-137 he seems just about ready to start at least trying to move on from hunting prime, he admits that he can't find him and even goes on to tell "diane" about their grandkids

yet this is him less than a season later

so, what changed?

well, this, obviously:

not to mention how traumatic that episode must've been for rick in general, having to revisit his past like that, the diane ghost ai. well, rick makes it pretty clear he's not exactly thrilled to be alive

so think it's pretty safe to assume that this was the first step to the rick prime relapse, especially since we know he went back and managed to snag a killbot

one could also argue that rick wasn't ever really over it, so it took very little to push him back, and while i don't think he was over it either, he did seem to start to want to be, morty saying this:

was all it took for him to step away from the base, though it's likely he returned in another moment, but still, that could've been later on

okay, anyway, into the actual point of this post, i think rick took small steps into falling back into finding prime, because even when he seemed to want to be bettering himself things kept going wrong, so eventually he decided, what was the point?

this is how i see it:

obviously preceding solaricks we have rickternal friendshine of the spotless mort, which i'm not gonna go into too much detail on rn despite it being one of my fav lore episodes bcs i wanna look at post-solaricks (but for pre-solaricks rickmurai jack is also worth mentioning due to him having to revisit his backstory with the citadel which is very closely linked to his time looking for prime/killing ricks) but go ahead and check out this post by dirty-bear-rick-sanchez for the best explanation i've seen on it and its effect on rick

anyway, so just 2 episodes after solaricks we have bethic twinstinct, and i've gone into this in a past post how this might have taken him back to his past so i'm just gonna copy paste it from my other post (summarised) bcs im lazy:

a lot of ppl theorise rick and prime knew eachother before he offered him the portal gun so if thats true what if beth and space beth reminded him of them and how he was (hypothetically) cheating on diane and then lost her forever at the hands of the man he was having an affair with and also lost his beth

which is why rick said "remember, its not just your ice cream you're forgetting, it's your family's" or smth. because he forgot his familys ice cream too much, and all that happened

also look at all the similarities between prime and SB's outfits

then 5 episodes after that we have analyse piss, where we see that rick relates to pissmaster, sympathises with him

i will never not reccomend this fic by abed-with-a-knife about how rick was taken back to his own struggles with suicide and such, but it's not only that, so many features of pissmaster's experience are things rick can relate to, his rocky relationship with his daughter, everyone hating him, i think in general it's pretty clear that this episode was made to link rick and pissmaster

anyway, the next episode after analyse piss is immediately a rick in king mortur's mort, and this is quite clearly rick's breaking point, obviously we know this is when he replaces himself with rickbot, following this scene:

rick tells morty not to take the sword and morty doesn't listen

morty says rick's boring and calls him a "drunk cranky fuck" which does seem to bother rick

despite him shitting on a similar insult in the previous episode

in ricktional mortpoons rickmas mortcation, the following episode, he says the reason he replaced himself was because of this, because he feels like morty doesn't respect him any more, and that:

so first the show wears away at his friendships and his past trauma and self hatred with rfotsm, rickmurai jack goes even further into his past, his relation with the citadel, his "crybaby backstory", etc.

then solaricks forces him to confront his past, specifically his relationship with diane and accept his future and his new family, while giving him a small clue to prime.

then bethic twinstinct, provided he and prime really did know eachother previously (which im a little on the fence on if i'm honest), reminds him of his guilt for diane and little beth dying and how he feels responsible for it by mirroring the situation with older beth and the "edgier" version of herself. after that, analyse piss continues to dig into his current relationship with a beth that isn't his own, and takes a shot at his suicidal tendancies and how he feels like "god hates him" or the universe is against him or whatever.

and lastly akikmm takes all of that that rick is already carrying on his shoulders and adds morty not respecting him or caring about him to it, and it clearly cause rick to finally snap. if all of this was building and the only thing keeping rick afloat was his codependant relationship with morty (as seen in solaricks when morty gets him to not go after prime just by showing his care) then morty (by no fault of his own) seeming to dismiss rick must make him think "what's the point anymore?" if no one cares about him, then he might as well complete his life-long revenge plot, even if it destroys him again

because no one cares about him, right? (dramatic old fuck, get him psycological help)

anyway it's almost 2am so my thoughts aren't as coherent as i would like and i'm too lazy to read over this post and check if everything is right and good

most of what i've said in this post is probably pretty obvious, i just wanted to lay it out neatly with images and everything (im so classy ik /j) it accidentally came out a LOT longer than i intended. what can i say i just love yapping on about rnm

[gigabyte-flare]

There's No Escape (Part 6)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Summary: As you process the fact you're now pregnant with your captor's child, you experience the aftermath of the trauma he's endured in the past.

Pairing: yandere!Leon Kennedy x fem!reader (afab)

Word Count: 2.7k

If any of the warnings below trigger you, please kindly pass on this fic 

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, actions depicted in this story are not condoned in real life; if you feel this way, please go touch grass. You are solely responsible for your own content consumption

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT OR I SWEAR TO GOD I WILL YEET YOU INTO THE GODDAMN SUN. Thank you!

Warnings (may not apply to all parts): Sex, gaslighting, swearing, stalking, acts of violence, blood, dubcon, kidnapping, pet names (baby, doll, angel, sweetheart, etc.), PTSD triggers, unprotected sex, forced breeding, daddy kink, manipulation, oral (m and f receiving), choking, overstimulation, knife play, gunplay, masterbation, drugging, tokophobia, Stockholm syndrome if you squint. Long story short, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT. More warnings could be added in the future.

Tags: @lipglossanon, @ghostkennedy, @explorevenus, @nexyswrites, @ilookatlater, @shroomietrip, @dollrxst, @lomaeuwu, @aliet, @luniaxifics, @miwsolovely (Shoot me a message or an ask if you want to be added to the list!)

A/N: I am sooooooooooooooooooo sorry this took so long to put out! I had massive writer's block with this one. There's a ton of angst in this one, fair warning. Enjoy!

EDIT!!! I forgot to mention there's a nod here to Venus' AI Leon shenanigans as they helped break my writer's block, thank you Venus!!!

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The days following the bombshell that was finding out you’re pregnant with Leon’s child were a blur. Most of the time you moseyed around the house, almost in a catatonic state, your mind in denial about the whole thing. Pregnancy and childbirth were two of your biggest fears and they were now a terrifying reality. This morning was no different, you lay in bed on your side, staring off into space as several tears stream down your face. Dark circles were under your eyes from crying almost every night; you also refused to eat, Leon usually had to force feed you. 

You feel Leon shift next to you as an arm wraps around your waist. You feel him bury his nose into the hair on the back of your head, inhaling deeply.

“Good morning, my pretty princess, did you sleep well?”

You don’t answer him, you simply continue to stare at the wall. You hear Leon let out a frustrated sigh.

“Baby, can you please answer me? Daddy’s worried about you.”

“I slept fine.” you reply curtly.

Leon forcibly turns you to face him, and you watch as he furrows his eyebrows at you. 

“You know it’s not nice to lie to Daddy.” he says, “come here.”

He gets out of bed, pulling you with him to stand in front of a full length mirror.

“See how pretty you are? And the best part?” Leon says before placing his hands on the lower part of your belly, “there’s a part of me inside you now.”

You feel your stomach sink as you look at your nude form in the mirror, your eyes catching a glimpse of Leon standing behind you, his blue eyes locked on you in lust. 

“I can’t wait until you start to show, sweetheart. That way I can show the whole world who you belong to.”

Leon presses a kiss into the back of your head before continuing.

“Daddy will take such good care of you and our baby; you won’t have to lift a finger, all you need to focus on is being a good princess and having all of Daddy’s babies.”

You shiver briefly, bringing your arms up to hug yourself as Leon wraps his arms around you, kissing the back of your head and rocking you back and forth in an attempt to comfort you. 

“Here, let’s get you dressed and I’ll make us some breakfast, hm?” Leon says, letting you go and approaching the closet to pick out your outfit for the day. 

He grabs a pair of really short denim shorts with a white tank top, putting the clothes on you before getting dressed himself, putting on a pair of black cargo pants with a gray tank top. He gently grabs your hand, coaxing you towards the kitchen to have breakfast. 

In the kitchen, Leon is cooking bacon and eggs while you sit at the kitchen table, fiddling with a pen that is on the table in your hands. Leon makes up two plates, putting one in front of you before sitting next to you at the small table. You’re reluctant to eat at first until Leon shoots a glare at you. 

“You need to eat, don’t make me force you again, sweetheart,” he warns.

You let out a sigh as you begin to eat, fighting back tears that are welling in your eyes.

“That’s my good girl,” he coos, watching you like a hawk as he finishes his breakfast “you’re eating for two now; I have to make sure you’re getting enough to eat for both of you.”

The statement sends chills down your spine, but you somehow finish your breakfast despite it. Once you’re done, Leon collects both the plates and silverware to put them in the sink before leading you into the living room. He sits in his usual chair, coaxing you onto his lap as he turns on the TV to get the news.

He runs his fingers through your hair as he places gentle kisses on your check and along your neck, “I’m so excited to start our family, I’ve dreamt of this for so long…”

“Is that because of what happened in Raccoon City and Spain?” you reply mindlessly.

You feel Leon tense up beneath you and you quickly realize your error; you aren’t supposed to know about Raccoon City or Spain. You feel Leon’s cold blue gaze boring a hole into you before he shoves you onto the floor.

“You’ve been in my office haven’t you?!” he growls, his eyes filled with rage as you get on your knees to stand up.

“Daddy, please… I’m sorry, the door was open and--”

He stands up from his chair and slaps you across the face, causing you to fall over onto the floor. He bends down, grabbing you by your hair to stand you up on your knees again.

“Give me one good reason to forgive you, princess,” Leon growls, tightening his grasp on your hair.

It made you sick to even think about it, but you knew one thing that would quell his anger, “think about our baby, Leon…”

You watch his expression soften a touch, but his grip on your hair remains. Without saying a word, he begins undoing his belt and pants with one hand, pulling out his half hardened cock from his pants.

“Let me fuck and cum in your pretty little mouth, then maybe I’ll consider forgiving you, sweetheart.”

He sticks his thumb in your mouth, prying your mouth open before shifting himself closer, pushing his cock inside your mouth. Immediately he starts thrusting into your mouth, causing you to gag as his cock pushes against the back of your throat; he was doing this for his pleasure, not yours.

Tears pour down your face as you grasp onto his hips in an attempt to slow him down, but it’s futile; he is relentless. Letting out a lust filled growl, Leon looks down at you, a wicked grin spreading across his lips, relishing in the sight of him ravishing your mouth.

“You are going to swallow every drop of my cum, do I make myself clear?”

You try to nod, but Leon’s insistent thrusts into your mouth make that almost impossible; all you can do is gag. A few more minutes pass. Leon’s grip on your hair tightens as his hips push into your mouth. You feel his cock pulse violently as ropes of his cum shoot into your throat. You continue to gag, now afraid you’re actually going to choke on his cum. He holds himself in your mouth until his cock finally stops twitching. He pulls out of your mouth, your lips making a distinct ‘pop’ sound. Inevitably, some of his cum leaks from your lips; you struggle to swallow it all.

“Aw, what’s the matter? Can’t swallow all of Daddy’s cum?” Leon asks, his tone patronizing.

You finally manage to swallow most of it before looking back up at him, “I’m… I’m sorry, Daddy, there’s so much.”

He grabs you by your shoulder, forcing you to stand up before he grabs you, throwing you over his shoulder, “I told you to swallow all of my cum and you didn’t, you bad, bad girl.”

You see that he’s carrying you to the timeout room and you start to struggle, kicking and screaming in his grasp until he drops you onto the bed in the timeout room, fastening the collar around your neck. He kneels down so that he’s eye level with you, the rage he’s holding back apparent in his blue eyes.

“Not only did you go somewhere you weren’t supposed to, sweetheart, but you didn’t do what I had asked you to. You’re going to stay in this room all by yourself until tomorrow morning so you can think about what you did wrong, understood?”

You nod, your eyes red and puffy from crying. You watch Leon stand up, not even giving you a second glance as he walks out of the room, closing and locking the door behind him.

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Leon is restless as he lays in bed, staring at the ceiling. This was the first night he slept alone since bringing you here. Every time he closes his eyes, that night in Raccoon City comes rushing back to him, the groans of the undead haunting his subconscious. He felt a chill go through him, which immediately brought him back to when he was infected with Las Plagas, causing him to lay on his side, wrapping his arms around himself. 

You were the only one that kept the darkness of the past away and boy did he yearn for you now. But you were being punished and he needed to see that punishment through; he was not about to let you see him like this.

However, as time passed, his body began to tremble and he could feel a panic attack coming, something he hadn’t experienced since that night you had disappeared from his apartment back in D.C.. Grabbing a pillow, he stuffs his face into it and screams, unable to get the awful images of that night in 1998 out of his head. Why did you have to bring it up? Why were you in his office to begin with? He wanted to forget that night, the night his innocence was taken away from him. 

He graduated at the top of his class at the police academy, his heart full of light and hope. Filled with a desire to help people. The bright, hopeful police officer died that night in Raccoon City, leaving behind a jaded man full of anger and hate at the horrors and corruption he was exposed to. 

Clutching the pillow, trying to pretend it was you, he violently sobs, his voice no doubt echoing through the house. After what seems like hours of this, he couldn’t take it anymore. He tosses the blankets off himself and walks into the bathroom, flipping the light on before looking at himself in the mirror. His eyes were puffy and red with dark circles under them. He looks like hell. Turning on the sink, he splashes cold water onto his face before leaning over the sink, breathing heavily. He turns and leaves the bathroom, shutting off the light. He walks out of the bedroom, heading straight to the timeout room. 

He stops in front of the shut door, pressing his palm against it, dragging his hand down until his hand meets the door handle.

He unlocks the door.

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

You were startled awake by the sound of someone wailing. You were kind of irritated because you had just managed to finally fall asleep after exhausting yourself from crying. The first thought that crossed your mind was ‘oh great, is this place haunted?’ but no, you realize quickly it’s Leon. The wailing finally stops after awhile, much to your relief.

You close your eyes to go back to sleep until you hear the door to the timeout room unlock and open, the door letting out a creaking sound as it slowly swings open. You keep your eyes shut, thinking that if he thinks you’re asleep that he’ll go away. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case. Leon walks into the room, shutting the door behind him. You feel him collapse onto the bed behind you; you feel him press himself against you, wrapping his arms around you tightly. That’s when you feel it, his body subtly shaking and you hear soft sounds coming from him.

Is he crying…?

You open your eyes, turning over to look at him slightly, “Leon?”

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry,” you hear him say, “I couldn’t do it, I’m not strong enough… it won’t stop…”

You turn over completely to face him, looking into his bloodshot blue eyes, “what won’t stop?”

“I couldn’t save them… I couldn’t save anyone…” Leon says, “I can still hear them…”

You realize he’s talking about Raccoon City and, judging by the report you read, he witnessed some truly horrific things that clearly scarred him. Your mind starts racing, trying to think of a way to calm him down so that you can go back to sleep. You recall the Kennedy Report, finally.

“But you were able to save the President’s daughter, weren't you?” you reach out, gently caressing his cheek, “you also stopped a horrible parasite from spreading. That’s something, isn’t it, Leon?”

You watch as his breaths slow down, his expression softening as a smile forms on his lips, a genuine one. You hadn’t seen that smile since when you first met him. For a minute you forget that he’s completely deranged. He pulls you in close, kissing the top of your head and he quickly falls asleep and, thankfully, you do, too.

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

The next morning, you and Leon ate breakfast in complete silence. You mindlessly push your food around on your plate as Leon stands at the kitchen sink, doing the dishes. You look up at him, the silence now unbearable.

“Do you… want to talk about last night?” you ask hesitantly.

“No.”

You feel your heart sink, clearing your throat before continuing, “I think we should, Leon.”

“You’re becoming awfully comfortable with addressing me incorrectly, my sweet,” Leon says, his voice like venom.

You roll your eyes since his back is turned to you, “it’s not going to get easier if you keep ignoring it.”

He turns around, narrowing his eyes at you, “drop it. Now.”

“I’m sorry, Daddy… I’ll stop,” you say, conceding defeat.

“Good girl.”

The sudden sound of his cellphone ringing in his back pocket made you nearly jump out of your skin. Leon groans, pulling it out and answering it.

“Kennedy speaking… no I can’t come to Bangor today…”

Bangor… as in Bangor, Maine?

“What do you mean the President is here? Fuck… fine, I’ll be there in a couple hours,” Leon hangs up his cellphone, turning to face you, “I have to go into town, can I trust you to be good while I’m gone?”

He doesn’t realize his slip up…

“Yes, Daddy, I’ll be good, I promise.”

Your mind was now racing, trying to fathom where in Maine you potentially were until you suddenly recall a conversation you had with Leon when you two started dating.

“Yeah, I have some property up near Baxter State Park in Maine; I’d like to retire there someday!”

He inadvertently told you where he was going to take you without even realizing it. But what were you going to do with this information? You had no way of communicating with the outside. You finish up your breakfast with renewed vigor as Leon gets ready to leave the house.

Leon comes out of the bedroom, wearing one of his leather jackets with a dark blue button up shirt and a pair of jeans. Admittedly, he was very attractive in this outfit. You must not have hid that on your face very well because he gives you a playful smirk.

“Like what you see baby? Too bad I have to leave you, otherwise I’d fuck you right here. Unfortunately, I can’t refuse an order from the President."

He walks up to you, cupping your head in one of his hands and kissing the top of your head, “I’ll be back later, be good, ok?”

You watch Leon leave the kitchen, listening to the front door open and squeak closed, leaving you with your thoughts. Grabbing your plate, you bring it over to the sink and finish washing the dishes that Leon had started. Your mind continues to race over the fact that you now had a general idea of where Leon has taken you; you had to think of a way to take advantage of this.

You finish up the dishes, drying off your hands before going into the living room. You sit in Leon’s chair, turning on the TV and mindlessly flipping through the channels. You can’t seem to focus, your eyes wandering the room instead of staying on the TV. Your eyes settle on the front door, your eyes widening in shock.

The front door is unlatched.

Part 7

[happypotato48]

Wandee Goodday EP 4 Unhinged Tangent Thoughts

Get in losers we're going to go get emotionally destroy by men with big Tiddies.

.....Fuck you but also thank you??? open with this scene seems mean of them.

Eyebrows x Ai Phi Ter, a ghostship maybe??? (i'm joking plz don't kill me, or am i mua55555555.)

It this what the heteros are calling IT these days, those sick fucks.

I can fix him, and by "fix" i mean i can disassemble him like an ikea furniture then reassemble him without his ego.

Yes please! Yak's Knife is big and deadly i hope i could get stabs with it too.

Ouuuh! Pretty, this shot is perfect.

This is how a porno starts! these bitches can't even keeps it in their pants for 5 fucking seconds.

ถ้าจะหวงเค้าก็หย่าเอาแต่เล่นสิจ๊ะน้องดี

*me having a nosebleed with one hand holding my nose and the other one doing the thumbs up gesture*

*in universe representations of Wandee Goodday viewers*

"You wish you could be them" Yes Duh!! Thank you for stating the obvious brain, now go back to focusing on the show or else i'm going to sleep deprived the fuck out of you.

Yes Pakao strangle that messy little Homo, do it do it do it. God bless ace sexuality if is not for its the human race would has gone extinct cause of dumb bitches whose think with their genitals.

Kill him! or fuck him or both, yes both.

อุ้ยตาย, These nerds why you two like this ahhhhhh. this is too fucking adrob, also where is my kinky bathroom sex scene! (there was one in the book when they had sleepover at the gym.)

Run away! Girl run as fast as you can. this man flag is a wholeass jolly roger stained red by bloods of gullible homosexuals. also this make me think cause those gossipy gays that were on his side in the last ep seems a bit much. maybe this asshole also manipulated them too in someways. maybe i'm digging in too much but this kind of asshole do like to have a pattern.

Read them! read them for the filthy loves they has for each others.

i want to let you all know that i have a hardcover that also a poster of book Dee in a kinky maid outfit riding Yak that i hide in my room, not because it's gay but because it's cringe.

i would not be surpise if this is actually sponsored by the thai health ministry.

this show continued to be great and what not. now let me rant cause of gmmtv. soooooooooooo they're doing the cooking crush thing agian for the live tv version at least idk about youtube. the tv version was missing a lot of scenes that in the Viu version. the tv version felt so off and i was huhh??? god damn, i guess i'll stop watching it live then. well i hope this is just a problem for domestic audiences and y'all don't have to deal with this shit.

[insertusernamethere]

Yandere chubby man sequel

Hi ! It has been quite some time since my last post. I have been busy recently with my work and studies. I am also working on a new projet can't wait to publish it ^^ Anyway here is a small sequel to my yandere chubby man Charles~ Enjoy <3

Previous story -> Yandere chubby man

Also here an AI picture of Charles to give you an idea of what this adorable man looks like <3

Charles awoke with the first light of dawn, as he did every morning. He stretched, his large frame creaking with the effort, and slipped his feet into his worn slippers. The house was quiet as he made his way downstairs, the familiar path to the kitchen lit only by the soft morning light filtering through the windows. T

oday was no ordinary day. Today, Charles would finally have the chance to prove himself to Y/N, the baker who had captured his heart months ago. He hummed a tune under his breath, a smile playing on his lips as he gathered the ingredients for breakfast: eggs, flour, sugar, and milk. He followed the recipe he had memorized, measuring each ingredient carefully into the bowl.

Cracking the eggs was always the trickiest part for him. His strong, chubby fingers weren't made for such delicate tasks, but he had practiced until he could do it without leaving a single shell fragment behind. He whisked the mixture together, his mind wandering to thoughts of Y/N.

He imagined them in his kitchen, wearing his apron—far too big for their slender frame, but charming nonetheless. He pictured himself coming up behind them, wrapping his arms around their waist, and kissing their neck, his hands slowing moving down… The thought made him blush, and he shook his head to clear the daydream. With the batter ready, Charles heated the pan and began to cook the pancakes. He stacked them high on a plate, drizzled them with maple syrup, and added a fork and knife.

Balancing the plate in one hand, he made his way upstairs. As he walked down the hallway, he heard muffled noises coming from the guest room. His heart swelled with a mix of excitement and nervousness. He had planned this day meticulously, down to the sleeping pills he had dosed precisely, thanks to his chemistry studies in college. He opened the door softly, a gentle smile on his face.

"Good morning, my love," he said, his voice warm and tender. "I hope you slept well. I'm going to let some light in, alright?"

He placed the plate on the small table beside the bed and drew back the curtains, flooding the room with sunlight. Y/N stirred, their eyes fluttering open as they tried to speak, but the words came out garbled.

"It's okay," Charles soothed, moving to block the direct sunlight from their face. "Don't try to talk. The medicine is still affecting your speech. I made you some breakfast. I know they're not as good as yours, but these are made with love."

He ignored the sound of chains rattling against the bed frame as he cut a piece of pancake and held the fork out to Y/N.

"Here, let me feed you. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, you know. What kind of husband would I be if I let my lover start the day with an empty stomach? Come on, eat up now."

His eyes gleamed with a mix of adoration and something darker, something that hinted at the lengths he was willing to go to keep Y/N by his side.

[knight-of-the-graces]

I'm rewatching The Mandalorian because I finally have Disney+ again and I Am Having Thoughts. Because I have somehow convinced myself I am funny, I am posting these thoughts.

Spoilers for episode one, of course, below the cut.

That Mythrol guy, what's-his-face, is somehow very convinced he has enough money to get out of Every Problem Ever. Rich kid behavior. This man has never seen consequences in his life, I bet. Very clearly Does Not Know how to respond when faced with a problem he cannot buy his way out of.

The Eerie Stare. (That is absolutely something Din does to literally every one of his bounties. I am dying laughing with the added context of having watched the show before. This man does not know how to have a conversation and I am here for it.)

Also the poop jokes. Forgot about the poop jokes. The idea that this guy hasn't 'evacuated since the solstice' is weirdly funny to me, probably because of my slightly juvenile humor and view of jokes about bodily functions.

Din: "I need a job." Greef Karga: "You did all the jobs already." Din: "I still need a job."

...why are you holding a rifle like that. I don't think you can shoot a rifle like that. Not a gun expert by any means, but I am decently sure you Should Not shoot a rifle like that. It will hurt you.

The Armorer! The Goran! She sounds so mildly annoyed it's excellent!

Din: *flashbacks* Me: "Boy why are you here. The Forge gives you flashbacks. You should know the Forge gives you flashbacks. You should avoid things that give you flashbacks. Is this supposed to be exposure therapy? You're doing it wrong." (I think, not a licensed therapist.)

Beaten up by a blurrg. Why did you go for the flamethrower instead of the knife you should have in your vambrace, Din? Why is your first reaction fire instead of stab the thing in the eye, Din? Is that not usually a creature's weak spot, Din? Why were you punching it instead of stabbing it, Din? I know you have knives, Din, where are your knives? (I'm starting to think he's bad at this.)

Kuiil. I don't have more to say, just Kuiil.

I lied, I have more to say. Kuiil: "I want half of the blurrg you helped capture." Din: "You can have them both, I don't want it." Kuiil: "You need it." Din: *longsuffering sound hidden by helmet*

Beaten up by a blurrg, take two.

Kuiil: "Mandalorians are legendary." Me, watching Din get thrown off a blurrg again: "Press X to doubt." (Of course, Mandalorians are legendary, I just like making fun of Din. He is Not living up to the legend right now.)

Finally. He is on the blurrg, and this time he isn't being bucked off! Hurray for the small victories!

Aren't Nikto supposed to be kind of rare? Am I an idiot? I remember reading that somewhere... eh, might be wrong. Or Disney doesn't know its stuff. Both are equally likely.

Apparently not even bounty hunting is a profession safe from being stolen by AI.

Din: "Bounty droid."

IG-11: *reciting Guild waiver* Me, future law student: Well he's covering his legal bases. That's gotta count for something. Pretty sure none of them are going to be suing, though-- you kinda killed them.

IG-11: "This is my bounty." Din: "Actually, this is my bounty."

IG-11: "I will receive the merit for this capture." Din, hiding behind a pillar so he isn't shot: "Can we talk about this later? You know, when you're not trying to get me killed?" IG-11: "No. Answer the question." Din, internally: "I hate droids. Why do I have to work with a droid. I want to shoot you myself but unfortunately you improve my odds. I hate droids. I hate you."

Nikto: *shoots the door panel Din is trying to break into* Din: "Okay so that isn't going to work. We need a new plan." IG-11: "I am going to explode." Din: "What? No! That isn't what I meant by a new plan!"

You can hear the exasperation in Din's voice when IG-11 says yet again that he's going to self-destruct.

Din: "We're shooting out way out!" Din: *comes around pillar with gun drawn* Din: *sees cannon* Okay. Din: *goes back behind pillar*

IG-11, stop trying to kill yourself. Din sounds like I do when one of my cats is trying to eat something they shouldn't.

Din's new plan: I am going to steal your cannon. Mine now.

IG-11: "I will disengage self-destruct initiative." Din: Finally.

Din: "You're not so bad. For a droid." IG-11: "Agreed." (And yet not even ten minutes later Din promptly shoots him.)

Din: "Well, now we just need to get the door open." Both turn to look at the cannon.

Menacing Silhouettes. (Literally so bright I can't see, goodness sake.)

I saw the cradle in the background. I SAW IT.

GROGU!!!

IG-11: "Perhaps it could live many centuries." Me: Darn right it could.

IG-11: *threatens child Din literally just met* Din: Death to the enemy.

THE END SCENE! BEAUTIFUL!

Also, forgot to mention: Din's cape. Gradually getting more holes in it. Peak detail. Don't know why I found that funny.

[thesilliestrovingalive]

Updated: May 23, 2025

Reworked Character #1: Marco Rossi

POTENTIAL TRIGGER: Viewer discretion is advised due to references to neglect, self-harm, alcoholism, SA, death, and torture.

Real name: Marchrius Dennis Rossi

Alias: Intelligent Soldier and Real Hacker

Occupation: Major of the P.F. Squad

Retirement plans: Become a mechatronics engineer, foster a bunch of kittens, and start a company that designs and develops functional computer models, artificial intelligence, and cybersecurity programs for both military and civilian usage

Special skills: Proficiency in rapid firing, wielding his handgun, and handling military technology, mechatronics engineering, computer science, intimidation tactics, and drunken-style boxing

Hobbies: Creating artificial intelligence and technological viruses from scratch, calculating complex mathematical equations and running times of computer programs in his head, allowing his AI to engage in arguments with other people on the internet while he completes a crossword puzzle, taking naps at his desk, and smoking while stargazing

Likes: His quick mental calculation, considering his colleagues to be family, having time to dedicate to his hobbies, visiting cat cafes to play and snuggle with the kitties, and subway rides where there are little to no people around him

Dislikes: Large lines in front of restaurants, being put in a vulnerable position, how he's grown strangely accustomed to war, computer crashes paired with slow internet connectivity, and witnessing the torture and brutal executions of comrades

Favourite food: Chinese noodles (preferably if its mildly spicy and carbonara-flavoured) and barbecued burgers and hotdogs with onions and honey-glazed carrots

Sexuality: Sex-repulsed, aromantic asexual

Gender: Male

Age: 17 (in 2022), 23 (in 2028), 25 (in 2030), 27 (in 2032), 29 (in 2034), 36 (in 2041), 38 (in 2043), 39 (in 2044), and 42 (in 2047)

Blood type: A-

Weight: 162 lbs. (73.48 cm)

Design: He's a 5' 7" (170.18 cm) Italian-American ectomorph with a rectangular build, the physique of Rambo, broad shoulders, ivory skin, a cleft chin, and dull turquoise eyes. He sports the same hairstyle as Marco's Metal Slug Tactics portrait, but his hair is strawberry blonde and has soft waves. His features are further accentuated by well-groomed sideburns and a neatly trimmed chinstrap beard. He has occasional dark circles under his eyes and a distinctive glass prosthetic left eye in a lighter turquoise hue. This is evident from a gnarly scar: a diagonal line that snakes down from the left side of his forehead to just above the centre of his cheek, a result of a knife slash that occurred after his left eye was pulled out with a rusty spoon.

He bears occasional dark circles under his eyes and a distinctive glass left eye in a lighter turquoise hue. He has accumulated several battle scars: a few stab wounds on his right shoulder; vertical cuts on his chest; a deep slice mark extending from the left side of his nose bridge to the back of his trapezius muscle; multiple lacerations and severe burns on his back; a large patch of scar tissue on his right lumbar region; and bullet wounds on both calves and one on his left thigh. To cope with his emotional pain, he has a history of self-harm, which has resulted in the horizontal scars visible on his right forearm, hips, and inner thighs.

He's well-known for his cutting-edge cybernetic left arm, crafted from sleek, high-strength metallic alloys and integrated with motherboard circuitry for artificial intelligence. The arm features advanced, flexible nanowires in red, blue, yellow, and black, which function like blood vessels, pumping electricity to significantly enhance arm strength, agility, dexterity, and precision. It also has micro-sensors and neural interfaces seamlessly integrating with Marco’s nervous system for intuitive control. It possesses a razor-sharp blade, capable of extending up to 12 inches (30.48 cm) from the forearm. It extends in a line from the middle of his palm to the center of his forearm, activating only when his hand is fully open and held straight, and retracting when he moves his hand down. Forged from indestructible adamant, the gilded blade is micro-serrated for optimal tissue and armour penetration.

Marco's military gear consists of a white headband, a metal dog tag necklace with his name, and a platinum grey sleeveless shirt. He wears a crimson vest with four pockets and an embroidered logo of the P.F. Squad on the back, alongside khaki-green army cargo pants tucked into his olive green paratrooper boots. He also wears a leather belt with a snap-on silver buckle, mahogany gloves, a sheath for his combat knife, and a gun holster for his trusty handgun. The pockets of Marco's vest contain a gilded lighter he found in Gerhardt City and a black case for his garnet-hued reading glasses. It also holds an old, cheerful photograph of his pre-teen self holding his childhood cat, which wore a purple-tinted burgundy leash and collar. Beside him, his father kneels on his left knee in a park during autumn. Meanwhile, the pockets of his army cargo pants contain two boxes of cigars, a wireless USB flash drive, and a red pen.

Over his shirt, he wears a Soldier Plate Carrier System (SPCS) with a MultiCam pattern, which carries his walkie-talkie and ammo for other firearms. His right forearm is wrapped in worn gauze, and he wears two black bandoliers that form an X-shape, holding bullets for his handgun. Marco carries a khaki-green load-bearing backpack containing camping equipment, tactical explosives, portable ammo boxes, a canteen full of water, a Gatling Shot, a Thunder Shot, and a crossword puzzle book. He's always carrying around a red-orange laptop adorned with a bronze circle on the lid, housing a black six-pointed star at its centre. This custom laptop serves as his mobile command centre, where he develops malware to breach enemy cybersecurity, tackles various classified technological assignments for the military, and works on personal software projects.

He wears his father's circular, gilded watch on his right wrist, using it to check the time as a reminder of his father's enduring presence and an opportunity to seek guidance from the past. The timepiece features an ivory dial with burgundy hands and black Roman numerals from I to XII, interspersed with four thin etchings. Additional details include a secondary display bar showing the time and AM/PM indicator, while a leather strap is secured with a matching gold buckle.

Character summary: He's a charismatic, kind-hearted, brave, stubborn, and cautious leader who takes immense pride in his high intellect, computer expertise, and masculinity. He's a self-reliant introvert who prefers to accept help and emotional support from others when absolutely necessary. He often has a stoic demeanour, showcasing his seriousness and making it challenging for him to display humour or vulnerability. Due to being a workaholic, he has developed a harmful habit of neglecting his own basic needs, including eating when necessary. He mainly struggles with loneliness because he finds it difficult to form meaningful connections due to his exceptionally high intellect, which can make it challenging for others who may not be able to keep up with his level of understanding. He also struggles with undiagnosed major depressive disorder, trust issues, a fear of abandonment, and unresolved trauma stemming from past experiences. While Marco tends to internalise his emotions, he has learned to open up to trusted individuals when his burdens become too overwhelming to bear alone.

Despite his gentle and taciturn nature, he's capable of being ruthless and terrifyingly violent. Whenever he's riled up and facing the Rebel Army, Nadia has described him as having an uncomfortably serious and sadistic look with bulging, intense eyes and a grin that seems to reveal a million teeth. He secretly finds it amusing that Nadia playfully feeds into his desire for revenge. When he doesn't find a way to calm his nerves, he can fly into a deep rage at the mere mention of General Morden's name. He harbours a deep desire for revenge against Morden that extends to his army, viewing them as pests that must be eliminated. He won't stop or make room for a successor until they're wiped out, wanting to keep the title of the world's Rebel Army expert for himself.

When interrogating others, he employs a menacing tone, his aloofness making those on the receiving end feel uneasy and intimidated. He doesn't hesitate to act on threats of violence made against them, a trusted comrade or a pet they rely on for warfare or guard duty. He even goes so far as to exploit their insecurities and make them question their moral standing, and with Trevor by his side, his intimidation factor is amplified.

He's a socially awkward loner who doesn't tolerate distractions and has a strong fear of losing his current friends. He tends to be a bit of a pushover when people persuade him to take a break, especially if they're persistent or offer him a chance to step away from his hard work. He often feels awkward at parties, but he manages to put on a positive, relaxed facade because he doesn't want to spoil the fun. He prefers to bring his cat along whenever he goes out drinking or partying because it helps him feel calm and less prone to panic and irritation.

When experiencing great distress in relation to past trauma, he's prone to having a full-blown mental breakdown and indulging in suicidal ideation. Whenever he's somewhat sleep-deprived or overwhelmed with stress and discomfort, he desperately tries to put on a facade that he's okay, but it’s clearly forced. In secret, he binge-eats when he's truly starving, stuffing his face and making a mess while grappling with feelings of self-loathing and sometimes even crying. Marco tends to get stressed easily, which has led to him developing a chain-smoking habit. He privately grapples with self-harm and binge drinking, often consuming multiple beers at once, while concealing his struggles with alcoholism and suicidal thoughts from those around him. He attempts to conceal his alcohol problems by either excessively partying or withdrawing socially, and privately harms himself due to his reluctance to burden others or cause unnecessary concern. Additionally, he struggles with denial, finding it difficult to accept the loss of his father and former war comrades, and resisting the idea that he needs professional mental health support.

He doesn't like discussing the idea of death, especially when it involves friends and family, because it brings back unpleasant memories. He has a dry sense of humour that he rarely showcases, and when he does, his witty remarks often blend English and Italian. Having learned some Japanese from Tarma and Eri, he occasionally sprinkles Japanese phrases into his jokes. He deeply cares about his friends and will stop at nothing to protect them, even if it means putting his own life at risk. He often mistakes Sophia Greenville for his mother due to their similar appearance, and he's always embarrassed when he accidentally calls her "mommy”. Nevertheless, he's deeply grateful for the maternal affection she shows him, treating him like a son and unknowingly becoming the kind of mother he wishes he had.

He finds great comfort in the presence of his best friend, Tarma, thanks to his breezy and optimistic attitude. Although he doesn't always show it, he genuinely enjoys Tarma's jokes and appreciates listening to them, even if they occasionally test his patience. People say he seems like a completely different person when he's around Tarma, appearing more jovial, relaxed, and talkative with a comedic, actively adventurous spirit. He often gets quite rowdy while on the job, especially when he’s working with Tarma or when his best friend and queerplatonic partner accompanies him for a significant portion of their team missions. He also seems genuinely proud of himself and the hard work he has done, despite his self-esteem issues.

He cherishes his flamboyant and extremely cuddly Domestic Shorthair, Perifa. Perifa boasts copper eyes and a blue-black, reddish-orange, and white calico coat, which he diligently brushes. She was a heartwarming birthday gift from Tarma, received prior to the Survival Island Occupation. He finds comfort in spending quality time with his cat, affectionately referred to as his "dramatic little princess”. He enjoys engaging in playtime, giving gentle pets, and even using soothing baby talk to calm his feline companion. He's easily offended by people who rudely insult cats, going as far as to comfort the insulted feline and silently glaring at the person who uttered such words.

He’s in a polyamorous queerplatonic relationship with Fio and Tarma, a bond that satisfies his deep-seated longing for emotional intimacy. He’s close friends with Trevor, regularly mentoring him in computer skills like reading binary code and enjoying social time together, but their occasional marijuana use has raised concerns due to Marco's pre-existing unhealthy smoking habits. He holds Tequila in high esteem, recognizing his pivotal contributions to the success of the Regular Army and S.P.A.R.R.O.W.S. special forces unit. He deeply values his wisdom, open-mindedness, fatherly demeanour, and exceptional covert agent skills. He dislikes accompanying Nadia on shopping trips because her constant meddling and overly inquisitive nature frustrate him.

He once had a vision of creating an artificial intelligence, dubbed Adaptive Learning Interface for Cognitive Engagement (ALICE), that could mimic human development, emotions, and personality. However, he abandoned the project due to concerns that it could become rogue if provoked incorrectly, and he felt uneasy about the notion of being a "father" to such a being. He views his computer programs solely as practical tools, designed to fulfill specific purposes, rather than as "children" with distinct identities. As a result, he developed a skeptical view of artificial intelligence being fully human. This stems from his understanding that the emotions and unique personalities exhibited by AI are the result of intense programming. In his opinion, genuine emotion and personality require the physical and mental growth that comes with human ageing and development, something AI systems lack.

This has led to rocky tension between him and MS-Alice because he struggles to fully accept her as a sentient AI with realistic human emotions and growth. He finds it particularly unsettling that she sometimes confuses him with her original creator, whose memories she can't fully recall. However, over time, he comes to regard her as a daughter, treating her with increasing respect and moving beyond the notion that she's merely a tool to aid him in his duties and other tasks.

Having never experienced raising children, he had always doubted his ability to provide love and be a good parental figure because he was consumed by his own interests and mental health issues. But everything changed when he adopted an abandoned young girl and felt an obligation to provide parental care for the toddler. With the guidance and support of his friends, he discovered valuable parenting skills and named his new daughter Midori. He transformed into a loving, supportive, and overprotective father, dedicated to ensuring her happiness and safety. He made it a point to offer wise advice, hoping to spare her from his own past mistakes.

He found immense joy in watching Midori form close bonds with his friends, affectionately regarding them as uncles, aunts, and grandparents. He was particularly grateful for the ways his friends nurtured Midori's passions: Tarma and Alisa encouraged her interest in engineering, while Walter and Trevor fostered her love of music. He can't imagine a world without his adoptive daughter, who has brought him a newfound sense of purpose and motivated him to become a better father while overcoming his personal hardships.

Whenever he's had too much to drink, he starts to act rowdy, easy-going, overly affectionate, and clingy. When sexual activity is mentioned, he reacts with extreme discomfort as he finds it to be disgusting. He’ll either become nauseous or start gagging, displaying expressions of strong distaste towards the person discussing the topic. If he unexpectedly encounters someone engaging in sexual activity, he often experiences a panic attack, feeling lightheaded and overwhelmed. In such situations, he usually tries to seek comfort and support from a trusted individual to talk to and receive a reassuring hug. This experience may also trigger unpleasant thoughts related to sexual matters, leading him to fear that he's somehow perverted and disgusting. He'll only lose his temper with others if they say something extremely rude to him or his friends, intend to hurt his loved ones or tell him blatant lies. Although he tends to have a pessimistic outlook on life, he sometimes manages to see the brighter side of things. 

He has a sleepwalking habit, often accompanied by vivid dreams of fighting or killing someone, which greatly annoys and frightens Tarma, who’s frequently the target of these nocturnal episodes. When sleepwalking, he's known to mumble and attack anyone who attempts to interfere with whatever kitchen knife is in his hand. The only way to wake him is to strike him hard across the face, jolting him awake and leaving him briefly gasping for air. He resents being hailed as a war hero due to his intense aversion to fame and his conviction that conflict should prompt sombre reflection, not glorification. He believes that every commander should have a thorough understanding of their subordinates and colleagues in order to maximize performance and effectively control the enemy's movements. He dislikes flirtatious advances and has low tolerance for complaining, bullying, and excessive talking, which can trigger irritability and extreme defensiveness. He feels uneasy with romantic inquiries and is secretly intimidated by Gimlet, whose relentless verbal aggression and frequent heated confrontations leave him on edge. He has a commanding presence that demands respect, and his consistently serious demeanour can make him seem intimidating and unapproachable to others.

He's incredibly introspective and prone to questioning the intentions of his friends and his own worthiness of having meaningful friendships. He defines his masculinity by embodying traits like physical strength, courage, independence, leadership, and assertiveness. However, he makes a conscious effort to avoid toxic masculinity by ensuring his behaviour doesn't harm others' feelings or self-worth. Despite this balanced approach, he admits to having some vanity regarding specific issues he considers unbefitting of his ideal masculinity, such as sagging pants and carrying toys, as he sees these as detrimental to personal dignity. Whenever he encounters a pair of glowing red eyes, he's either deeply unsettled or irresistibly drawn to them, captivated by their aura of curiosity and command. This hesitant fascination occasionally leads him to wander aimlessly until it directs him to a destination of its choosing.

He’s a consequentialist who believes people's actions are judged by their consequences. He thinks it's more logical for individuals to prioritise not causing harm to others and maximising the welfare of both themselves and others over personal gain. In his view, everyone should act in ways that benefit themselves and others, taking into account fully informed and rational preferences. He believes that all conflicts are gradually moving towards equitable unification and collective strength for humanity, paving the way for a new era free from violence, hate, and political corruption. From his perspective, all life forms have the capacity for destruction, and if their creative drive is surpassed, it can lead to severe consequences, ultimately undermining the act of creation.

Backstory: Marchrius Dennis Rossi was born on April 13, 2005 in Twin Falls, Idaho, United States. His mother, Kharissa, was a researcher for a secret government project, and his father, Salvatore Rossi, was stuck in a dead-end office job. His mother never fully discussed her secret project, citing classified information, but revealed that it involved monitoring military activity for the U.S. government. His father took schooling in the field of computer science, but he had to drop out due to high costs and find a job to support his lower middle-class family, so he ended up working in the tech department of his dead-end office job. His parents had a distant relationship, having had Marco in the hopes that a child would bring them closer together and mend their broken marriage. However, they often ignored each other and frequently got into heated arguments that resulted in broken items and things being thrown. Kharissa would often storm out of the house to unwind with a couple of drinks.

Kharissa had never wanted Marco, viewing him as an unplanned consequence and a responsibility that hindered her career. She often berated Marco for being useless and annoying, even going so far as to say that he should've died in her womb. She wasn't afraid to strike him across the face or drag him into his bedroom, locking him in there until just a few minutes before his father came home. She threatened to leave him on the street if he ever told his father about what she did to him, which made him unusually taciturn and secretly fearful of the other terrible things Kharissa might have in store for him. Meanwhile, Salvatore provided unwavering support and care, while his mother was neglectful and emotionally absent, hiding her true behaviour behind closed doors. Although he found his son to be a little odd, he thought he was perfect in his eyes and would do anything to keep him safe. But despite this, Marco shocked his parents by exhibiting a fast-growing intelligence at a very young age.

From the moment he opened his eyes, he muttered his first word, "daddy". He learned how to walk at 3 months old and showed advanced motor skills by 5 and a half months. He skipped object permanence altogether and completed his first crossword puzzle at just 1 year old, astonishingly understanding political terms. By the age of 2, he had memorised all 50 U.S. states and read two books in their entirety, demonstrating a profound understanding of their documented subjects: jurisprudence and psychoanalysis. By 4, he was answering calculus-level questions and describing his feelings about endangered animals in zoos with sophisticated vocabulary.

From the age of 2, he would occasionally see a pair of glowing red eyes in darkened corners or places drenched in darkness. He described them as always watching him and swore that they belonged to a living, breathing creature that seamlessly blended into the darkness. When he turned 5, he created an imaginary friend as an excuse to enjoy his alone time and avoid befriending the children who frequented the local park. This imaginary friend was named "Jubby", and Marco often drew him, depicting him as an anthropomorphic snow leopard with golden eagle wings, Komodo dragon legs, and a face covered in a ball of black scribbles.

Before he turned 6, his neglectful mother, Kharissa, grew fed up with how "weird" he was. She was also annoyed by his persistent fear of a glowing pair of red eyes that watched him occasionally and his uninterested attitude towards forming connections. While Salvatore was away from home, Kharissa took matters into her own hands and packed her belongings. Before leaving, she noticed Marco standing before the basement door, which was wide open. She investigated and saw the same glowing pair of red eyes, which terrified her.

Believing that Marco was attracting an evil spirit, she pushed him down the basement stairs and locked the door, hoping to contain the perceived threat. Abandoning Marco, she left the house, leaving him absolutely terrified. Marco attempted to cope with the trauma by conjuring up Jubby, but he claimed that his imaginary friend never came to his aid. This painful realisation marked the day he began to harbour resentment towards his mother, feeling unappreciated, unloved, and viewed as a burdensome presence in her life. When Salvatore returned home and discovered that Marco was trapped in the basement by Kharissa, he was infuriated. His father attempted to track down Kharissa, but it was too late. He decided that finding her was the least of his worries and instead focused on comforting his son, listening to everything he had to say about what she had done to him. This included the time when he was four-years-old and accidentally wet himself, prompting Kharissa to angrily smash an empty wine bottle over his head. This traumatic event instilled in him a lasting fear of heading down into dark basements alone.

During his time in grade 1, Marco struggled to make friends and often looked sad when he saw other children with their mothers, a concern his father noticed. To cheer him up, his father brought home a Turkish Angora with a black, orange, and white fur coat, which sparked Marco's love for felines. As a result of his childhood cat's fondness for eating bugs, he affectionately named her Grubley. At the age of eight, his father introduced him to the world of computing, igniting a passion for computer science that would last a lifetime. Salvatore was always supportive of Marco and his passions, encouraging him to excel in school, chase his dreams, and make the most of the opportunities life has to offer.

Marco knew he had an uncle, but his father forbade him from seeing him. Salvatore had warned him that his uncle was untrustworthy due to his con artist lifestyle and struggled with alcoholism. However, he was permitted to visit his aunt and grandparents, who were incredibly kind. They encouraged him to appreciate nature and the simple things in life, rather than spending all his time on the computer. He has fond memories of his grandfather teaching him how to barbecue. His grandmother, an immigrant from Italy, taught him some Italian and often shared photographs she had taken in her home country before moving to the United States.

His father unknowingly sparked his interest in the Tuatha Dé Danann, an ancient race of demigods that existed before all life, and two antediluvian places, Atlantis and Ultima Thule. He would silently observe his father spend a short amount of time researching these fascinating topics when not working. Marco would eventually discover that he has a slight hint of Tuatha Dé Danann DNA, leading him to wonder if others might also have ancestral ties tracing back to the Hadean Eon.

He was bullied by many students for being perceived as "friendless" and for having an abnormally high intelligence, leaving him feeling isolated. A few students attempted to befriend him, but he rebuffed their efforts, fearing they would eventually abandon him. He also struggled to connect with them on an intellectual level, feeling like an outsider. During high school, he was involved in a few physical altercations, but he typically managed to defuse the situations with his words or, if necessary, defend himself relentlessly. In his spare time, he mastered the unconventional art of drunken-style boxing, giving him an edge in self-defence. Despite his school troubles, he excelled in all his classes and achieved outstanding grades in mathematics and computer science courses.

Before graduating from a state technical high school, Salvatore died due to health complications caused by Huntington's disease. Shortly after, Marco's beloved cat, Grubley, peacefully passed away in her sleep. Marco was devastated by these losses, compounded by the shocking revelation that his father had been secretly battling Huntington's disease without ever sharing his struggle with him. The last gift his father gave him was a red-orange laptop, which was intended to be a graduation present. Rather than letting the tragedy consume him, he transformed his grief into a driving force, cultivating resilience and independence. To move forward, he made the difficult decision to distance himself from his remaining family, seeking to leave the past behind and forge a new path.

He began developing artificial intelligence to engage in online debates and sophisticated computer software, including anti-viruses and error-checking tools, as a means to earn a living and hone his programming skills. He went so far as to meticulously rebuild and upgrade the desktop computer in his father's old office at home, enhancing both its design and performance. Marco decided to attend officer's school at the Academy of Special Technologies and subsequently joined the prestigious Peregrine Falcons Squad shortly after graduation.

Once he joined, he was trained under Colonel Hart of the Peregrine Falcons Squad, a well-respected technique instructor in the Regular Army, and Chun Yutetsu, a combat school instructor. Marco feels immense regret for destroying the Iron Nokana because Chun Yutetsu was inside, suffering a horrific death of being burned and crushed alive. To make matters worse, Colonel Hart revealed to him that Chun Yutetsu had joined the Rebel Army after General Morden held his daughter hostage and threatened to kill her unless he piloted the Iron Nokana and provided them with crucial data on the SV-001. Marco describes Colonel Hart as a golf enthusiast and a good friend of President Marx who will never forgive General Morden as a human being and only wishes to take his last breath.

Unlike many of his peers, he quickly distinguished himself through his exceptional leadership skills and computer expertise, earning him a spot as 1st Lieutenant of the P.F. Squad. This was also when he met Tarma, forming a fast friendship after discussing their interests, reminiscing on their childhoods, and having a couple of beers. Tarma was his first real friend, whom he holds dear, despite viewing him as a “maniacal gearhead”. Through his friendship with Tarma, he discovered the value of having friends and stepped out of his comfort zone to befriend the other members of the P.F. Squad and Regular Army. He would also gradually develop a queerplatonic relationship with Tarma as he deeply cherished their friendship and came to realise that it filled a void of emotional intimacy left by his father's passing.

When the Amadeus Syndicate served as the scientific and medical branch of the Regular Army, Marco met Doctor Amadeus, the organisation's founder and Nadia's clone mother. They had a cordial relationship, and Doctor Amadeus was particularly impressed by Marco's exceptional computer skills. She intended to leverage his talents for a bioengineering experiment focused on developing the ultimate bioweapon, which he would later encounter during the White Baby Crisis.

During a battle against a terrorist attack in Minnesota, he sustained severe injuries that nearly left him paralysed and resulted in significant blood loss. He was rushed to one of the state-of-the-art medical facilities that belonged to the Amadeus Syndicate, where he received treatment and underwent surgery to repair his injuries. As Marco attempted to rest after surgery, Doctor Amadeus forced herself upon him to collect semen and DNA samples without his consent, an experience that left him severely traumatised. The experience was so distressing that Marco tried to suppress the memory, inadvertently forgetting much of the history and purpose of the Amadeus Syndicate in the process. He also swore his revenge to kill Doctor Amadeus one day for what she did to him. As a result of this event, he began to act strangely anxious and slightly aggressive when in a hospital or near Nadia for prolonged periods of time.

During the first coup led by General Morden, with the aid of his superiors, he scraped together the remnants of the Earth Federation military forces to reassemble the P.F. Squad, S.P.A.R.R.O.W.S., and the Regular Army. Marco became the main leader of the governmental resistance against General Morden. After witnessing the troubling disaster faced by the Regular Army, Marco and his team began preparing a desperate counterattack with the hope of recovering or destroying the captured SV-001 tanks and defeating the Rebel Army. Over a period of two months, the available Regular Army forces pooled their resources to initiate the offensive, which included approximately 3,000 infantry soldiers, 50 aerial combat airplanes, 200 heavy tanks, and around 30 Metal Slugs. The offensive commenced in the spring of the same year with simultaneous attacks, and the Regulars quickly achieved several early victories.

Marco and Tequila determined that the first crucial attack needed to take place at the Villeneuve Mt. System, given the large number of Rebel Army troops stationed there. The 29th infantry division of the Regular Army and the 11th armoured division were deployed for a coordinated strike. The battle for the Villeneuve Mt. System became the pivotal point of the campaign. Marco, Tarma, Tequila, Red Eye, and Gimlet led the charge, and their surprising assault quickly annihilated the Rebel Army forces. Following this defeat, Rebel Army morale plummeted, and their front began to disperse. Marco and his team were subsequently rotated out of the Villeneuve Mt. System to reinforce the Regular Forces in Europe. This entire incident would be recorded in the history books as the Asian Theatre.

As Marco's team was approaching Gerhardt City, about to leave and head towards the base of operations of the Rebel Army, disaster struck. General Morden, Sagan, Logan, and a large group of Rebel troops ambushed them, seizing the opportunity to decimate the remnants of the P.F. Squad, S.P.A.R.R.O.W.S., and Regular Army, leaving Marco with mental and physical scars that would haunt him forever.

Marco endured unimaginable suffering at the hands of General Morden, Allen O'Neil, and the Rebel soldiers, who brutally tortured him, gouged out his left eye, and severed his left arm. After experiencing a strange tingling sensation of familiarity, General Morden realised that Marco possessed Tuatha Dé Danann heritage. Intrigued, he discreetly collected DNA samples from Marco, which would later be utilised by the Amadeus Syndicate for experimentation in bioengineering and advanced military technology. The cruelty continued as Morden forced Marco to witness the slaughter and torture of his comrades and friends. Devastated by the losses and horrors he experienced, Marco teetered on the brink of giving up. He was even convinced that his best friend, Tarma, had perished, plunging him into a deep depression. 

However, Tarma managed to escape the Rebel Army's clutches and staged a daring rescue, reuniting with Marco. With Tarma's emotional support and his own newfound rage, Marco found the strength to keep fighting. Before confronting General Morden, Tarma constructed his prosthetic left arm using technological debris and cutting-edge medical technology available to the Regular Army. However, it took him a couple of weeks to adapt to his new limb. Together, they became legendary heroes, ultimately defeating Morden and restoring world peace. Marco's bravery earned him the rank of Major, but he soon grew to resent his war hero status as he realised that the media often glorifies conflict.

Shortly after the Great Morden War, Marco created a computer virus for fun, which inadvertently spread to the Regular Army's mainframe server. The virus destroyed several security systems, compromised the lowest echelons of the Regular Army, and nearly triggered the launch of a nuclear missile. Fortunately, a military scout named Trevor, whom Marco would meet years later during his recruitment into the P.F. Squad, managed to stop it. He refuses to discuss this potentially disastrous incident, even after a few too many beers.

He continued to lead the P.F. Squad together with Tarma, regarding him as the true linchpin of the elite task force within the Regular Army. Marco joined forces with Tarma, Fio, and Eri for a second mission to thwart General Morden's second coup. Although the mission technically failed, as they captured a Mars Quotidian troop from the Pipovulaj disguised as General Morden, the Regular Army's higher-ups deemed it a success nonetheless. This moment got on Marco's nerves as he deeply desired to see General Morden brought to justice and face the full consequences of his actions.

Following this success, Marco attempted to resign, but his higher-ups quickly denied his request. They insisted on his participation in a mission to eliminate the remaining remnants of the Rebel Army and other operations addressing threats to global peace such as the Pipovulaj.

After the Survival Island Occupation ended, Marco, Eri, and a contingent of Regular soldiers, led by a commanding officer, were sent to the South Pacific training island. Their mission was to investigate Rebel disturbances and scout for any surviving cadets. To his surprise, Division 6 and some cadets had already dealt with the Rebel issue and made it out alive. Marco personally congratulated them on their effort, shaking Walter's hand. This gesture left Walter overjoyed, nearly to the point of fainting. However, Marco was annoyed by Walter's excessive admiration and interest in him.

[thedwarrowscholar]

Hello! My friends and I are looking for new and exciting ways to create insults in NeoKhuzdul for use in fanfiction, and I recently stumbled over a "disrespectful (contemptuous)" version of the verb "to spoon" meaning "to show affection in an openly sentimental manner" (which, btw, what a marvelous verb! When I saw that there were 133 words that came up related to the word "spoon" in the sentence maker, I was just tickled.)

I searched further and found 499 entries with a similar note. Would you mind giving some context for the "disrespectful (contemptuous)" version of these verbs? I'm curious as to why some of them have both masculine and feminine versions, but many have only feminine listed in the sentence maker.

Do you have any tips for extending this same concept to nouns?

Akhminruki astû!

Well met, shantismurf!

Ah yes — the infamous “spooning” entry! A true gem among Dwarven verbs. I’m delighted it gave you a good chuckle — Neo-Khuzdul can be quite expressive even when Dwarves themselves may not always be.

🗂️ On the 499 Search Results

The reason you're seeing 499 entries when searching terms like "disrespectful" is simply due to a technical cap — the search tool only displays the first 499 results, alphabetically. Since the feminine forms tend to be listed earlier, this can give the (false) impression that they outnumber the masculine ones. They don’t — both forms exist in equal measure, but the limit filters what you’re shown.

📢 On the “Contemptuous” Forms

The contemptuous or disrespectful tone comes from Tolkien’s own use of specific pronouns — most famously in:

Khazâd ai-mênu! “The Dwarves are upon you!”

Here, mênu is not a neutral “you” — it’s the accusative plural, disrespectful form. Such pronouns are used when shouting insults, threats, or war cries — and it flavours the sentence with open contempt, fitting for a battle cry. If it were meant respectfully, the line would’ve been Khazâd ai-zun. Note though, that Tolkien did not specify that "mênu" was a disrespectful form, but as the respectful for "you", had long been established by David Salo as "zu" (male form), an answer had to be found to this oversight of excluding the only known Tolkien original pronoun, while not excluding previously established pronouns of Neo-Khuzdul. As such, the explanation was the "mênu" was a form of disrespectful pronouns. As a result some verb forms also had to be duplicated to include disrespectful counterparts (the reason you see conjugations for singular, plural, male and female in both respectful and disrespectful forms).

Khazâd ai-mênu!

Extending this form to verbs (and by extension, to constructions involving pronouns), allows for an expression form unknown in English (as that would require a slew of additional words to get the same insulting tone across). Not only is it a rather unique concept, but it has always struck me as a very Dwarvish way of letting the language speak your intent — at times, bluntly.

🪓 On Nouns: Why Neo-Khuzdul Doesn’t Need “Contemptuous Noun Forms”

Neo-Khuzdul does not have contemptuous noun forms — and for good reason: it really doesn’t need them.

Why? Because, frankly, a noun is a noun. A table is a table. A rock is a rock. A knife is a knife. What matters is how you refer to it — and - more importantly - what pronouns or potential adjectives you attach to it.

For example:

Barkzu = “your axe” (male neutral/respectful)

Barkmêzu = “your axe” (male disrespectful)

That’s how you insult someone’s belongings — not by altering the noun itself, but by changing how you address it (by attaching the disrespectful pronoun instead of the neutral one). In battle, for instance, you might sneer at an orc and say Barkmêzu arkhasul! (“Your axe is disgusting!”), just before splitting their skull with your own axe. Not that they would understand you though, but it's the thought that counts.

🧱 Building Insults the Dwarven Way

You can still get creative with insults — many exist, as shown in a previous post. Combine those with disrespectful pronouns, and the insults take on an undeniable sharpened edge.

For instance:

'Atmê lebertargûn, azafr nadadmêzu! "You are a scrappy-beard, like your brother!" Here both 'atmê (you are) and nadadmêzu (your brother) are disrespectful forms. Note that for "you are" we are using 'atmê (the Perfect form) and not "satmî" (the Imperfect form) as we wish to stress that this is a dependable fact. An additional linguistic kick in the family jewels, if you will.

You may have noticed that disrespectful verb and their pronoun forms only exist for the second person (you, your). This is entirely intentional. Talking in a disrespectful manner is done face to face, not behind one's back. You either say it directly, face to face, chin held high, or don't say it at all. Hence you won't find the disrespectful form for other pronouns like "his", or "hers", nor their verb forms.

🛠️ Final Thought

In Neo-Khuzdul, tone is not just flavour — it’s baked into the grammar. Dwarves don’t waste words when it comes to insult or praise — they forge meaning like steel, folded with care, and used with unmistakable intent.

So yes — insult away in your fanfiction. Just remember: if you're going to dish it out like a Dwarf, make sure it hits its target right on the head (with proper disrespectful forms).

Ever at your service (unless you’re dishing out insults my way), The Dwarrow Scholar