#I know he does/did things but this is his core essence to me

[klara-rosa]

as a certified soft, gentle, calm person I just love so much that characters such as Cash exist because everytime I see him on the screen, he just resonates such gentleness, like he is shy and socially awkward sometimes and he cares about people and just lets them be and he falls in love and lets it happen even though it probably scares him and HE HAS A PET DUCK because he just wanted to save ONE so he did. Like I don't know why, can't put my finger on WHY exactly but it's just always immediatly clear to me that this is someone soft, with a gentle soul, like this is a sweet person, someone who is sensitive because they just are and they lean into it. I LOVE IT I love it I love it, I want to see more softness on screens, I want calm gentle people, I want people that exude angel energy 👼👼👼

[astheforcewillsit]

In which the Kaminoans provide a miseducated version of what and who the Jedi are, and the clones realize that at their core, the Jedi are religious monks.

Cultural misunderstands are bound to ensue due to this.

(based of the scene where Obi-wan and Anakin bow to Echo and Fives after they join the 501st)

(original ao3 link)

The first time Obi-Wan bows to Cody, he does so low and Infront of the men. All of the men. It is not a simple incline of his head. It is a slow, low dip.

Ancient practiced movements, just as Qui-Gon had taught him.

They had had saved his life. Again And he is truly grateful. He is still unused to a war like this. His very essence as a Jedi protests his involvement in it.

But he moves only by the will of the Force, and it has brought him to such a moment like this.

Before he completes his gratitude, he is stunned by a collective gasp amongst the men and an arm on his shoulder. The Force tells him it is one of the younger men.

There's a sharp reprimand from Cody, and the arm is off, though the Force is still disturbed

(The touch had not bothered Obi-Wan, in between droids and separatist leaders, it has been the kindest touch he's had all week.

It doesn't bother him, the touch of the clones. He enjoys their presence. Though he can feel the fear palatable through the Force. He hopes that one day they'll be less terrified of him. That they will know him for the human he is. Force knows the damage the Kaminoans have done to the reputation of the Jedi Order.)

Cody steps up as Obi-Wan rises--clearly the action disturbed the peace.

"Sir, I-"

"Clearly I have done something to offend you." He straightens himself, "I apologize."

Cody looks scandalized. This is not going well.

He hesitates. His Commander is still a Labyrinth. He looks at the face of Jango Fett everyday, though he sees none of the darkness clouded in those eyes. With Cody, it's almost fear.

"Sir, there is no need to apologize to us. it's just..."

"it's a sign that we've done wrong and have to ask for forgiveness, usually done by subordinates--cadets to the Kaminoans or the bounty hunters that trained us. When you did that, well...it looked like you thought you did something wrong, that maybe you were asking for forgiveness or was ashamed," another clone (Boil, Obi-Wan reminds himself, the "shiny" who touched him) supplies with some distaste, "doesn't mean the same for you sir?"

Obi-Wan could confuse them, because technically Jedi do bow for forgiveness too. But not in shame, never. He decides to keep it beginner level friendly today.

"I am expressing gratitude. You saved my life," Obi-Wan responds as if it is the most obvious thing, "Though If I have done anything wrong, it has simply been confusing you all. I will not bow if it makes you all comfortable."

His culture is important to him. It his his blood and his soul, but these men are not here with him of their own accord. These men are making sacrifices just by being alive, Obi-Wan could stand to be more like them. Though his heart pulls at the thought of abandoning something so natural to him.

"No sir, that is not necessary," Cody seems to relax in front of him. His anxiety has dissolved into gentle waves in the Force, and instead Obi-Wan senses a small bit of curiosity.

It reverberates through the company.

"Should we..."

"Oh Force no, if bowing has been negative to you please do not do it on my account. And I will alter it," he makes an example, inclining his head just slightly and putting a hand to his chest, praying he doesn't offend, "I am grateful to you all, and I endeavor to show it."

"Only what you're comfortable with, your culture is sacred to you, I know this," he adds, "and if you never tell me anything, I will be okay with that."

"Can you...can we learn more. The kaminoans didn't tell us you did that, they didn't tell us you were...priest--"

"Monks," Obi-wan corrects and smiles at the clone who asked, Waxer the Force tells him, "And I will till you all you want to know about the Jedi, if you feel comfortable telling me about who you are."

There's reluctance in the Force. They may not be Mandalorians, but they carry the secrecy of their beliefs with them. He doesn't blame them. They have so little that belongs to them, the clones. Why give what scarcity they own away to the man who they were handed to on a silver platter.

The Force radiates skepticism, but also trust.

Good, the gap is slowly bridging.

[tasteracha]

a/n: just minho eating your pussy like it's a five star meal.

the first time he goes down on you, you’re so caught off guard that you giggle. 

it’s not that he’s bad at it - it’s actually quite the opposite. he’s skilled with his tongue, his fingers acting as supporting cast members as he dips into you. his nose nudges your clit just right to provide that slight amount of extra stimulation, and it’s kind of perfect. 

it’s not the way he’s wearing his work clothes still, too distracted by the way you were laying on your bed with nothing on but an oversized t shirt. he did little more than loosen his tie before diving into bed between your legs, holding your thighs apart with his strong hands while he looked at you with reverence. 

it’s not even the way he looks kind of silly with your juices coating his mouth and down his chin, slightly obscene in the way he doesn’t even make a move to wipe it off. 

no. it’s the way he makes a little mmph! noise at the first taste, eyes lightening up and widening like they do when he digs into his pudding or something wonderfully spicy. his nose twitches as he stares at your pussy for a second, blinking in the way that he does, before he dives back in. 

it’s just so cute. even with his face buried in you, the giggle escapes your lips, turning into a breathless whine when he stops and pulls back to stare at you in confusion. you shake your head, reaching one hand to thread through his hair and push it back towards you. he arches a brow at you but let’s you put him back into his place, collapsing back down into the pillows when he resumes his meal just as enthusiastically as before. 

you feel your high approaching faster than you want to admit, his skill mixed with the fact that he so obviously loves to be between your legs making the coils in your lower belly twist and threaten to snap. he eats you through your high, making little noises of happiness as you shake apart on him. your legs close a bit and he moans where he’s trapped against you. he’s rutting against the bed, even as your muscles give out and you all but melt into the mattress. 

he’s kneeling over you and unbuckling his belt before you can blink, still breathing hard and twitching a bit from your orgasm. he pulls his cock out of his pants, and the vision of him jerking off in front of you in his suit almost makes you come again. he throws his head back as he fists his cock, your essence still glistening on his face, making him look like some kind of god (a thought you file away for later). 

you can see the way his body tightens when he comes, stripes of him coating your pussy in warm strokes. his breaths are ragged even as he collapses onto the bed in front of you, his head resting on your thigh as he calms down. his curious eyes are locked onto your core, the way his release is covering you in a work of pure art. 

he shuffles closer, licking tentatively at you and making you jolt from how sensitive you are. his face goes sour, a deep frown taking over his features as he tastes himself on his tongue. it’s the complete opposite to how he reacted to you, and you can’t help but laugh again, so hopelessly endeared by him. 

“why are you laughing at me,” he pouts, reaching for a cloth to wipe you clean. he uses the other side to clean his face, and discards his jacket before crawling up the bed so he can throw an arm around you. it’s a sign of how much he trusts you that he doesn’t feel insecure because of your giggles, he’s just curious. 

“you’re so cute,” you say, pinching his cheek between your thumb and your finger. “does my pussy taste that good baby? did you even hear the noises you were making for me?”

“you’re the single best thing i’ve ever tasted in my entire life,” he says, not missing a single beat, completely serious. he kisses your shoulder. “now me? i don’t know how you like that. we have to work on your taste preferences, something is wrong with you.”

[bitchlessdino]

scream your heart out (m)

🔪pairing: fem!reader x seventeen (???) 🔪genre: horror, slasher, smut 🔪tags: DISCLAIMIER!!! MAY NOT SUIT MOST AUDIENCES, Graphic sexual and violent imagery color coded in pink, abrupt changes in text color, features/mentions members (Chan, Seungkwan, Wonwoo, Minghao, Seungcheol, Seokmin, Junhui, Soonyoung, Joshua), established relationships, scream au!seventeen, Hybristophilia, erotophonophilia, homicidophilia, graphic images, mention panic attacks, smoking, mentions disfigurement of faces, severed body parts, knives, guns, threatening phone calls, face masks (horror), knife wielding, blood, gore, death/murder, knife play, bloody handjobs, cum mixing with blood, consensual sex but nonconsensual murder, HONESTLY SOME REALLY FUCKED UP SHIT AND IM SORRY BUT YALL SHOULD BE READING THE WARNINGS, sexual innuendos, kitchen sex, daddy kink, unprotected sex, cream pies, cuck! (??) member, voyeurism, exhibitionism, breeding kink, PLS LET ME KNOW IF IM MISSING ANYTHING PLS 🔪word count: 6.8k 🔪summary: you and your friends get caught up in a classic horror slasher movie, only it's in real life. Now you're off to fend for yourselves in Seungcheol's million dollar home. The question is, did you keep them out, or did you just lock them in? 🔪author note: thank you @multi-kpop-fanfics and @wonwussy for beta reading for me <3. here's some of their notes “I’m scratching my face to not fucking scream” “WELL SHIT BRO WHAT THE FUCK” -Zeta “It definitely does capture that slasher essence” -SJ this was so fun yet mind numbing to write but this is way more extreme than anything I’ve ever written like I lost a lot of sanity writing this. FR one of the most fucked up things I’ve ever written. I hope it was worth it. ENJOY EVERYONE and even tho it came out late HAPPY HALLOWEEN

Ever since the murders over a week ago, everyone in town has been on edge. All including the individuals most closely involved.

You had lost three core members of your eight. 

Joshua, someone you’ve known since grade school who was sliced open from the back before being stabbed 8 times to the point of excessive bleeding. He had just gone out to walk his dog, the poor creature being the only reason they found his body at all. If not for the dog’s bloody paws, and the trail of blood they left behind finding help, Joshua’s cadaver would’ve lost deep in the woods.

And then Chan, your long-time boyfriend, was stabbed fifteen times in the chest. His face was so disfigured from obvious violence and what looked to be burn scars, that he was practically unrecognizable if not for the fact he died in his own home. Police are still looking for his severed arms and legs to this day with no luck.

And finally, Seungkwan, who hadn’t died but lost to the paranoia festering in his blood like a disease. That caused him to take the train to the furthest destination possible to attempt to escape death if at all possible, leaving the rest of you with only the reassuring texts he left in his wake.

All that was left was you, Seokmin, Seungcheol, Minghao, and Wonwoo; the core five.

“Okay, absolutely no one is leaving this house for the time being. Until the psycho is caught behind bars, dead, or whatever the fuck! We’re safe here.”

Seungcheol, the eldest, did just as expected: contacted the rest of you into a personal prison. Luckily, he was loaded. The prison happened to be six thousand square feet of space with countless rooms, amenities, and a housekeeper to boot. From the looks of it, it’s paradise, but it’s definitely a prison.

“Holy shit, you have an indoor basketball court?”

A prison with an indoor basketball court. And a pool apparently.

Seokmin wasted no time to enjoy these features, breaking out of his clothes and cannonballing in his underwear. If you knew any better, Seokmin didn’t even look like he went through any trauma at all. It looked like every other day for him.

“There's a murderer and you’re doing butterfly strokes?” You asked, baffled.

The golden man scoffed, reaching the edge of the pool and resting against it with his forearms. “What am I gonna do? Wallow, crying to my mom, worrying about dying, and not taking advantage of this gorgeous mansion we’re staying in?”

“Thank you, Seokmin,” Seungcheol grinned.

Seokmin winked back at him, “Of course, daddy.”

“How are you both so unserious about all this?”

Wonwoo left a kind hand against your shoulder, looking back at you with warm eyes and a small smile. “They’re grieving. Just in their own way.”

You sighed, crossing your arms. “They’re being ridiculous. We shouldn’t be here. We need to be at the police station or something.”

“You were there when I got the call. The creepy voice said no police or you all die. Remember?”

You shuddered, hands over your sides to relieve your chilled skin. “Of course I do, but we’re sitting ducks here. This isn’t any better. We need protection.”

It was Seungcheol’s turn to scoff then. He strutted in front of you, flaunting his wing span before flexing his arms and then crossing them over his chest. “Well, you have me.”

“And me,” Seokmin joined. “Pure muscle right here.”

“Maybe pure laughing gas, not sure about muscle. We’re actually living in a horror movie right now and you’re all making jokes.”

“Hey,” Wonwoo stroked your head as his soothingly deep voice serenaded you, “Don’t say that. We’ll make it out of here.”

His arms come around you, forearms pressed against your collarbones, and his chin crooked over your shoulder. “You have me too. I would run through that knife before it could get to you.”

You genuinely smile for the first time being there, your hand stroking over his embrace. Wonwoo delicately kissed the temple of your forehead, reminding you what it was like to be constantly adored.

You were grateful for what he had become in your life. Wonwoo had kept you company in your time of need. In the absence of Chan. He had come to your house with whatever he thought you might need, lent you his shoulder that you could cry on, lent his ears so that he could listen, lent his body that you could heal. In more ways than one.

“You’re right. You are.” You turned to face him, wrapping your arms around his body and meeting his eyes framed in specs of hard plastic. “You’re the first person I can sacrifice if we face them head to head.”

He mused at you. “Ooh, now look who’s pulling jokes.”

“Who said I was joking?”

“You two are disgustingly cute,” Minghao commented coming through the back door. “Horror movie rules: they get killed while having sex.”

You punched the new face right in the arm, watching him scurry away to your other friends laughing.

“Not funny, Hao.”

Minghao sneers at you, a jester smile still on his face. “Ease up, princess. Wonwoo, watch your girl.”

“Only because she’s so pretty to look at,” he briefly grinned down at you before directing his attention to Minghao sternly, “but come on. We’re all a little psyched right now. Cool it with the murder talk. Alright?”

Wonwoo pulled you aside into the dining area, ignoring the careless laughter outside. His thumb stroked against your knuckles, lips pressing sweetly against your cheeks. His grin sunk deeper in his cheeks the further he made it past your jaw and then down your neck. He felt your throat vibrate against his lips. “Wonwoo…”

“I can’t have all these guys get you heated like this. That’s my job,” he teased with a rasp.

You slightly pushed him off, your arms swung over his shoulders. “You’re so ridiculous right now.”

“Anything to put that smile on your face.”

His lips reconnected with your neck, nipping at your skin. His humming sent tingles down your spine, and he took your body to press you against the side of the counter. Your hands grasped his baggy shirt, lip close to his ear, fanning your breath against his face. You smiled like a girl in love. Obsessed.  “Daddy…”

“I love it when you call me that,” he mumbled, just as love-struck, if not more. Your giggles brought out the pink on Wonwoo’s ears and cheeks while tightening the groin of his pants. You noticed immediately, cupping it in your palm, and running your finger along the seam. Your eyes skimmed over his taken expression, leaning your full weight into him. “I know there’s something else you really love.”

“Do you now?”

You nodded, your bottom lip caught between your teeth. “But do you really want to do it here? Risk getting caught?”

He leaned into your touch, allowing your fingers to take apart his pants. “Try new things right? Like you always say. Plus you’re scared. Gonna turn that fear into pleasure. Make you feel good, just what my baby deserves.”

“You're so good to me, Daddy,” you moaned.

His hand finds the hem of your shorts, pulling them down to expose yourself to the cold air. He fingered through your panties and slid two digits through your folds. He felt your breath hitch as he squeezed your clit, eliciting your soft whines. “You’re so wet down there, baby.”

“Just waiting for daddy to fuck me where anyone can find us and watch.”

Wonwoo eagerly pulled down his pants, kicking them and yours aside, but not without pocketing your underwear. He lifted you up slightly from the ground, his exposed cock hitting at your hip. “Look what you do to me.”

Your throat went dry at the sight of him, hand aching to wrap your hand around his girth and have him shoved inside you.

He didn’t let you wait a second long, and pushed in slowly inch by inch, burying himself in your pussy until he was nearly balls deep. You grasped his shoulder in a gasp, savoring the fire burning in your stomach. The girth of his cock stretched your molten walls, allowing them to melt all around his cock as he spread your legs. You writhe in his embrace, your limbs closing around his lean and toned build, already blissful from the few seconds of him being inside you.

Wonwoo’s words kissed your lips, flushed your skin, and left a permanent smile on your face. It swelled pride in his chest, better than any physical trophy would have. His hips slowly rolled against yours, letting you adjust to his size. He massaged the flesh of your side through his fingers, mentally reassuring himself you were his and his alone, but his names on your lips became more than proof.

Your hips buckled towards him in heat, matching his pace before the carnal side of him decided to fuck you like an animal. His cock then plunged sharply inside you, and then again, a whimper coming out of your lips. Your hips stuttered the harder he pounded, arching your back, you felt his hand above your ass, pushing you against him.

“Daddy…”

He lost control when it came to you, addicted—religious—the second your body came in contact with his. He loved how your fingers ran through his hair, not caring how his glasses fell off his face in the process. With drool out of the corner of his lips, he could feel the blood rush up to the surface of your skin, making him feel warm at home inside you. Throbbing, he only got harder feeling how perfectly snug you were, pricking his clammy skin with goosebumps as he bottomed out.

“You’re sopping, precious,” he murmured with a sly grin.

He had you begging, flustered, and beautiful. Your hand clasped his face as your other arm looped around his neck, swallowing his lips, anxious and thirsty for his breath. You craved every part of him viscerally. “Cum in me, daddy. Please…”

He scoffed, lips ghosting over yours. “Will you take every bit of daddy’s cum, hmm? Hold my cum inside you.”

You nodded gingerly. “Yes, yes. I promise, daddy. Give it to me please, I want you to spill your cum inside me and make me yours…”

“Hold on to me.”

You obliged, met with the hot stream of his climax, yours quick to follow. He embraced your sides, devouring your lips and muffling your whines. His loads pumped into you in erratic thrusts, fucking his cum back into you and making sure you drained him of every ounce. His fingers dug into your flesh, feeling you just come apart for him, undoing the tension that festered earlier.

But that tension was needed. It was necessary to survive. Everyone let themselves forget the current predicament, basking in the glow of the sunset until dinner time arrived. Despite the housekeeper that supposedly exists, she hadn’t been around since all of you stepped foot in the house, like a ghost presence. Seungcheol scrambled to find her—reminding you of his peculiar obsession with the woman—as he wondered when dinner would be ready since a rise in temperature or a savory scent couldn’t be found in the kitchen.

“That’s strange. She’d be finished with a whole chicken by now,” the homeowner commented, noticeably picking his nails.

“Aww,” Seokmin groaned, “Well, is there anything else to eat?”

“I mean…you can look around.”

You narrowed your eyes at him in disbelief. “This is your house. You don’t know what you have in your own house?”

“You try navigating a five-story home with countless cabinets!”

“Buy a smaller house, you prick!”

“Guys!” Minghao chimed in. “Breathe in…and out. We’ll just find food. Seungcheol, your maid, your house, your search. She’s probably fine.”

Your hands slammed against those pristine marble counters. “We are NOT splitting up right now. This is what the killer wants. She’s probably already dead and we’re fucked.”

Wonwoo came to your side, laying a cool calm over your shoulder, and rubbed your sides. You let yourself melt in his touch, his sweet voice soothing you effectively. 

Seokmin sat up from his stool, “Okay, okay. I will help Seungcheol and you guys stick together.”

“That’s still splitting up!”

“Better than alone.” Seungcheol rebutted. “You guys stay.”

Despite your protests, they went on their search. Your head banged against Wonwoo’s chest, muttering in anguish about how everything was going wrong and that it’d only get worse. Meanwhile, Minghao seemed to regain some of that tension but masked the fear with the bright light of his phone, scrolling through TikTok. You didn’t know what was more annoying, sensation of imminent death possibly behind any door, or the same five songs replaying on Minghao’s feed.

After 15 minutes when they were nowhere to be seen, your patience had run thin. You picked yourself up from Wonwoo’s lap and dusted yourself off. “Fuck this. We’re finding them.”

You felt his hand on your shoulder, a concerned glow in his gaze. “Babe, hey. They’ve got it. Trust them.”

“Wonwoo, you know I can’t do that. Let’s just find them, hmm? Together?”

“Not a bad idea,” Minghao agreed. “Better in groups right? We go together, eliminate us as any potential suspects.”

Your boyfriend sighed, collected your hand, and laced his fingers through yours. “Fine.”

You were all joined together by the hip, making sure you were each other's sights. Through the wider than wingspan hallways, past the ridiculously expensive sculptures, you kept your eyes out for your estranged friends. Silence couldn’t have been more loud in these cavernous spaces, only hearing the gut feelings in your stomachs that’s churned in trepidation. Every step taken was the group closing in on the killer. 

Fortitude meant nothing if the danger was already inside.

Before turning around the corner, Minghao—reluctant to lead the group—crashed into a human-sized obstacle, causing the stumble of your entire party. You all faced a wide-eyed Seungcheol with the missing young housekeeper walking hand in hand with him. Suspicious, but besides the point.

“Holy shit, we said we’d come back!”

“It’s been 20 minutes, Cheol! You guys could’ve been dead for all we know.” You retorted.

“Wait, where’s Seokmin?” Wonwoo asked, noticing he didn’t see him nearby.

“He went ahead. He needed to piss or something and meet up later.”

“You idiot.” Your eyes burned a frustrated rage. “I said don't split up. DON’T SPLIT UP! That’s the number one rule of horror movies. You’re going get us fucking killed. He could be the murderer for all we know.”

Seungcheol scoffed, shaking his head. “Seokmin? No way. He’s the last person to even think to do that.”

“Well, do you see him? No! Probably he’s off someone being Ghostface reject with his stupid little voice modulator and cheap party city costume.”

“I told you—“ Before he could finish, his phone went off in the nick of time. When he pulled it out to saw Seokmin’s caller ID on display and the owner of the device wouldn’t help but smile. “See the bastard is even calling.”

He picked up and put him on speaker, eyeing you cheekily, amped to prove you wrong. “Seok, you little shit. How long does it take to piss, huh? Just say you wanted to take a dump.”

“Oh yeah, I took the shittiest, stinkiest, fattest dump. You could probably smell all the way from the other end of the hall.”

Instead of Seokmin on the other line, all of you were met with the eerie voice that had called you multiple times before. The voice that felt like spiders crawling up your legs. The voice that had you second guess whether you locked the front and the back door. The voice whose owner had killed countless people already. 

Seungcheol held the phone in a vice grip swallowing, fear stilling in his unsteady eyes. “You—Where the fuck is Seokmin, you son of a bitch?”

The morphed voice on the other end laughed, sounding bone chilling as nails against a blackboard. “What’s to say? Why don’t we play a little game to find out?”

“Mother fu—“You grabbed the phone from Seungcheol to answer in his place, cutting the older man off. “Why go through with this?”

“Why, I just want to help you find your beloved friend. All out of the kindness of my heart.”

“If it was all kindness, you could tell us where he is.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

“Psycho,” Minghao muttered under his breath, eyes wide in shock and fear, as if registering the idea of death for the first time.

“And if we refuse?” Wonwoo interjected.

“Seokmin dies, rock for brains,” Seungcheol gritted.

“Ding, ding, ding. Or should I say, chop, chop, chop, since that’s what'll happen if you get any of my questions wrong.”

You scoffed, coming down the stairs with your friends to follow. “Have at it then, you freak.”

“Hey, hey, play nice. Maybe I’ll get too excited and decide to cut him up early.”

Seungcheol glared at you briefly before taking back the phone, storming down the stairs, and reaching the ground floor. “Ask away, as long as Seokmin is safe.”

“First an easy one. What’s your favorite scary movie, Seungcheol?”

His feet stopped at the end of the couch in his living room, stammering to answer. “What kind of fucking question—uh, The Ring?”

“Don’t lie to your friends, Seungcheol. You know that’s not the answer, that’s just what you say to anyone that asks. Say the real answer.”

“That’s the movie though!” he started to shout, visibly shaking.

“Just say it, Cheol!” Minghao pushed.

“Stop playing around Choi Seungcheol! Just say it,” You joined.

“Fine!” He faced the friends, evidently swallowing his pride as he choked up on his answer. “I never watched a goddamn scary movie! Is that what you want to hear? I get panic attacks every time I hear one in the background, why do you I’m always going off smoking when you guys put one on,” he confessed through his tears.

“Congratulations. Your first right answer. Now was that so hard? Pussy boy?”

“Fuck you,” Seungcheol sputtered, tossing the phone back to you.

“Next question. ‘The Texas Chainsaw Massacre,’ Leatherface is known for wearing a mask when it was in fact several. How many and what were they in the original movie?”

“Who the fuck would know an answer like that?” Minghao croaked in disbelief.

“Three. A ‘Killing Mask’, an ‘Old Lady Mask’ and a ‘Pretty Woman Mask.’” Wonwoo calmly answers, garnering horrified looks all around. “I wanted to be a filmmaker, remember?”

“Correct. Next question. What Was Freddy Krueger's serial killer nickname before he died?”

“It’s on the tip of my tongue,” you said slightly panicked, “Wonwoo?”

“The Springwood slasher.”

“Wow, Another amazingly correct answer. Hold on to that one, Y/n. He’s a keeper. He’s smart and fucks your brains out to the point of you screaming bloody murder? What a catch.”

You didn’t respond, impatience seething on the tip of your tongue, “Just tell us where this is all going.”

“Patience, sweetheart. Last question. What exact kind of knife does Ghostface use in the Stab movies? Here’s a hint: it’s the same one I’m holding in my hand against Seokmin’s throat. (Help me please...)”

“S-Seok.” Seungcheol gasped.

Seokmin’s voice could barely be heard on the other end, weak and afraid, only staggering breaths audible.

“Wonwoo, please,” Seungcheol begged, tears falling past his neck. “He’s our best friend.”

Wonwoo swallowed, gears visibly creaking in his head, “I know he uses a hunting knife, b-but—“

“Oh…” the voice cooed, “Well, that’s just not enough, is it? Seokminnie, say goodbye to your friends (Please, no…).”

“Seokmin!”

“Wait!” You barged, clutching the phone to the point of it almost bending. “A modified Buck 120. I remember now. It’s coming back to me. Now, let Seokmin go!”

The line went dead and in turn, light cast in the evening darkness of the poolside. All your eyes shot back at the change of light, startled at the sight in front of them. Seokmin was seated in a chair, bruises against his sides, bleeding from the splices on his forearms, and duct tape over his mouth. Yet the most frightening part was his closed eyes.

“Seokmin!”

You all rushed towards him, swinging the porch door in a panic. Seungcheol tried slapping him awake, pleading he’d be alive. “Seokmin please, please, wake up…

The poor victim's eyes start to flicker open, mumbling through the adhesive over his lips.

“Buddy,” Seungcheol ripped the duct tape clean off him, his ear coming up to his friend’s lips. “Speak to me…”

Seokmin’s voice came out in croaks, hardly incoherently, all except, “Be…hind…”

Minghao spat up blood, doubled over as Ghostface was revealed right behind him, and fell right into the pool. You and the housekeeper both let out a blood-curdling scream. The masked intruder wiped off the blood using his black rope, anticipating a lunge towards their next victim. 

“Run,” Wonwoo breathed out. 

He took your hand and ran with it. Taking a second to look back, you see Seungcheol and the housekeeper try to escape similarly before she was tugged right back towards the killer and she was stabbed right in front of him five times, each one faster than the last, having the poor Seungcheol paralyzed and fallen on his knees. The sounds of suffering were loud enough to hear throughout the neighborhood.

Wonwoo dragged you back upstairs, his survival instinct telling him to seek haven high and far up the house. 

“You left them there to die,” You proclaimed.

“He said he could manage it. You’re more important.”

“You actually believe that? Ghostface snuck up on Minghao with neither of us looking!”

“We’re going to have to. Secungcheol can handle himself.”

Finally, he finds the room, closing the door behind him and pushing heavy furniture in front of it for more time to stall. “We’ll be ok for a little bit here. Let’s look for weapons.”

He started rummaging through drawers, looking for anything strap, blunt, heavy, anything worth using. He was red in the face, sweat drenching his entire body. The only thing running through his mind was keeping you, the most important person in his life, safe. 

“Wonwoo, I don’t know if we’re going to find anything. Fuck. I’m so scared right now.”

He recognized the panic in your eyes, the bounce in your step, and the quiver in your voice. “Hey, hey, baby. Look at me.” He grasped your face in his hands, wiping your tears away with his thumb. 

“I’m here, hmm.” He kissed your closed eyes. “You’re alright.”

Then your tempered cheeks. “We’ll get through this.”

The tip of your nose. “I love you like hell.” 

Finally your trembling lips. “I’ll keep you alive.”

“Promise?” You managed to breathe out.

“Scouts honor.”

The banging resonated from outside the locked door, only getting louder and closer every passing second as if teasing you to death. You shook in Wonwoo’s embrace, burying your face in his chest. “I don’t want to die here, baby.”

“You won’t. Not with me.” One arm wrapped around your body, and another had his fingers locked around the base of a lamp, tugging it from the outlet. Pitch darkness joined you, only having to rely on the dim-lit sky through the peek of the windows.

Whomever on the other side cracked through the wood of the door, breaking it piece by piece as it fell to the ground, knocking over the dresser that blocked 

“Shit, shit, shit.” Wonwoo pushed you behind him.

Finally, your barrier came down with a final kick, rendering it useless. Wonwoo let out a battle cry, charging at them with the lamp above his head. He swung his weapon while Ghostface swung theirs, both missing simultaneously. Gritting his teeth, Wonwoo pulled forward, aiming for the head.

They crash against the wall in the process, but not without mutilating the midsection of Wonwoo’s stomach. The visually impaired man fell back to the ground, groaning in agony as he clutched his stomach, while blood trickled through his fingers. “Mother fucker...”

Wonwoo’s vision started to fight against him with the loss of his glasses, dimming images before him, and slowly processing the murderous figure trodding before him. Wonwoo’s determination picked him right back up slowly, picking up his lamp once again, trying to take another move toward the perpetrator. And by pure luck, the lamp crashed against the crown of their head.

Ghostface stumbled back, quick to recover but visibly agitated.  Soon enough, they plunged the full length of the knife right into Wonwoo’s gut, sticking it deep and long before kicking him off of it. Wonwoo lands on the hardwood, blood gushing out of him like a public water fountain. “Fuck, fuck!”

“Wonwoo!” You come by his side, clutching at his wound desperately. “No, no, no.”

The sinister figure approached once more, hand creeping against the edge before he pulled it over and off his head. His eyes stared back at you both maniacally. His grin stretched from both ends freakishly before overtaking in deep chuckles. “Happy to see me?”

“…C-Chan?” Wonwoo managed to gasp.

“Hi, bestie.” His signature smile, once warm and inviting, reflected horrifyingly as if out of a film, one with too much bloodshed and betrayal to imagine. “Well, didn’t think you’d see me again, huh?”

“Chan, what the fuck?” You screeched. 

“You’re supposed to be dead.” Wonwoo voiced panic-stricken. “What, how?”

One foot over the other, Chan carried himself with conviction, ease, and the confidence of a man who slaughtered countless amounts of people. 

“You guys don't know how easy it is to fake my death. I was surprised by how incredibly stupid police officers are. Find a body that’s my height, my build, cut off their hands and arms to not get their fingerprints, singe their skin and face to the point of unrecognition, and plant them in your own home. I’m a fucking genius.”

“S-Seungkwan,” Wonwoo wept, his adam’s apple, “You actually—”

“It was beautiful. Masterful.”

“Why?” Wonwoo stammered. “Your best friend—“

“He was an imbecile. Weak. All bark and no bite. You will never understand how good it felt to stick the knife inside him and watch the blood burst off of him like a sprinkler. Like the knife going in and out of him surged power throughout my entire body. So, I kept doing it. And doing it. And doing it. And doing it. And doing it. And doing it. And doing it. AND DOING IT.”

His smile. That violating smile.

You sobbed, covering Wonwoo’s wound with your hands. “Y-you monster.”

“This was all just fun for you?” Wonwoo bared his teeth. “You get your kicks from lying, deceiving, stabbing your friends? You think you’re some Billy Loomis?”

“Of course I have fun. I had lots of fun. We had so much fucking fun.”

“We?” Wonwoo repeated.

“What the fuck do you mean we?” You asked horrified.

Chan started to chuckle to himself, chest heaving exuberantly before he stood completely still. Dreadfully still. 

“Well, I'm not the one that killed Joshua, am I?”

A million guesses ran through Wonwoo’s brain. None made sense the more he thought about it. “Your Stu Macher? Seokmin…Seungcheol…?”

Your eyes turned to him fearful, before it melted into something else, something familiar. Something terrifying. “No…” your lips drew close to his ear. “Me…” 

Your hands squeezed around his wound, gripping, earning his moans of anguish, screaming at you to stop, before you retrieved the knife hidden behind your boot and drove it into his shoulder. Wonwoo let out the loudest scream he could ever muster, feeling the blade sharply cut his nerve whilst pain shot into his chest. He tapped his heel incessantly on the ground, tears streaming from his eyes, looking at you in disbelief, overcome with hurt.

“And he was a good fuck too until the knife I put through his back made him scream like a little bitch.”

You pulled out the knife from him, seeing how the pain he felt in his body only complimented the suffering pooling in his heart, his mind, his soul. His lips quivered in your direction, sucking in his breath. “Y/n…Why?”

You simply shrugged. “Why does anyone kill these days? They’re bored, daddy. Same reason why things can change in the bedroom, to spice things up. The flavor of life is murder now, darling.”

“You’re killing people.”

You drove the knife one more time into his thigh, savoring his scream of agony. “And we’re more alive than we ever have been,” you said, twisting the knife before pulling it out.

You walked toward Chan, helping him pull off his robe. “And so is our sex life.”

“So, Junhui, Soonyoung…Joshua, and even Seungkwan.” Wonwoo asked, catching his breath.

“Every. single. one,” You chuckled. “Draining their cum out of like having a second puberty until life is literally drained out of their bodies. What a bunch of pussy boys. So obsessed with sex, they didn’t see the knife coming their way.”

Your hand reached for the ottoman and pushed Chan there to be seated, underdressed in the black tank top and black jeans he hid underneath with his momentarily abandoned bloody knife at his side. You unbuckled his pants single-handedly, your knife still in your other hand. “And Chan just gets so fucking hard with all the bloodshed. Like a bloodthirsty animal.”

“You just look so fucking sexy with blood on your hands,” Chan moaned, “Touch me how I like it, baby.”

“Mmh, my pleasure.” Your hand used the blood covering it as a morbid form of lube, closing around the girth of his cock to squeeze and lightly stroking it from base to tip, softly thumbing over the small slit on top. 

His stomach flexed, bucking his hips in your direction as he bit down on his bottom lip, beaming like a child on Christmas. Horny for your touch, Chan couldn’t help but squirm in his seat, warning up to your touch. He was absolutely growing at a rapid pace. “Like that baby, like that.”

“That feel good, daddy? You like how the blood is covering your entire cock? Seokmin’s blood, Minghao’s blood, Seungcheol’s blood? Wonwoo’s blood?”

“Fuck. Yes.”

“You two,” Wonwoo’s shock couldn’t stagger from the scene in front of him, unable to process all this information at once.

“You’re massaging our friends into my cock so good, baby.”

“Yeah?” You traced your fingers over the details of his shaft, your nails prodding at the veins as your hand slowly picked up pace. You rolled him in your fist, letting him rut in your defiled hand as he moaned your name like an animal in heat. “I’m getting so wet watching fuck in my hand covered in blood. You’re just a sick lunatic obsessed with killing your friends and fucking my sweet pussy. I love that about you, Daddy.”

“Fuck,” he screamed, hands gripping the ottoman in restraint, brimming with passion, “Wanna mix Wonwoo’s cum you kept inside you with the blood. Sit that sweet pussy on my cock for me, lover.”

You nodded invitingly, not missing a beat. You never did replace the underwear from before, making it easy to remove your shorts and sliding him inside your warm walls, massaging his length as you rolled your hips against his. You held the knife you still had in a death grip, stabling against the reliability of Chan’s shoulders. You mumble his name pleased, arching your back as you grinded down on his lap. “Your cock feels so good covered in blood, daddy.” 

“Your pussy feels even better knowing how much fun you had stabbing Wonwoo for me.”

“Of course, daddy.” You turned to the body mutilated and defenseless on the ground, grinning as Wonwoo was forced to watch. “That look good, Daddy Wonwoo?” Your ass bounced purposely in Chan’s lap, the jiggle showing off the splatter of blood left from the handjob.

Everything in Wonwoo told him to look away but he couldn’t, like a train wreck or a car crash, he couldn’t part with the mess of a situation he was witnessing. He wasn't sure what this meant for him, mentally nor physically.

“You like watching Chan fuck me, Daddy? His bloody dirty cock fucking me like you did a hour ago, fucking me like a nasty little whore.”

He hissed through his teeth, right the strange feeling surging in his pain-stricken body, “Shut…the fuck up.”

You laughed obnoxiously. “You love it. You love being a little cuck, watching other guys fuck my pussy. As if you hadn’t peeped on me and Chan fucking when he wasn’t ‘dead’.”

“It’s not true, you bitch.” The twitch in his trousers told him otherwise.

“You’re such a liar a dirty, dirty liar like I’m a dirty, dirty fucking whore.” You groaned loudly taking Chan’s cock, bouncing against his lap as you felt him pulse around your walls.

“That’s right baby take my cock.” Chan’s hand came over your bare cheeks, striking them with his full palms while his hips jerked up your body. “Taking the murder fueled, hard fucking cock.”

“Daddy, your cock is making me so fucking wet, stretching my pussy the way you sliced open our friends,” You growled.

“Fuck you’re such a little succubus, baby. Bouncing on my cock, coating yourself in blood. And I’ll kill more and more for you. I’ll do anything for you.”

“Yeah,” You began slowing your pace, drinking in his every word. “You’d do anything for me?”

“I’d kill the entire human population for you.”

That left you smiling from ear to ear, the tension coiling in your stomach. Your chest pressed against his, pushing against his thrusts. “Yeah? Would you cum in me, Daddy? Mix our dirty mess inside me. Let me take your cum, daddy.”

“I’ll let you drain me of every drop, my little psychopath.”

“Cum daddy cum, make me full and breed me with our homicidal baby daddy. Make you a real daddy.”

Chan shuddered, overwhelmed with immense arousal. His hips found life of their own, hammering into you at top speed, and watching the pleasure morph on your face and the staccato rhythm of your breath leave your lips, all while the load threatened to burst out of his sack. “I’m cumming, baby, all for you, ah—“ then it exploded inside you. His cum launched out of his cock like a hose, he painted your wall in milky white, turning pink as it seeped out of you.

“I’m so close, daddy…”

Chan threw his head back to catch his breath, hands possessively finding purchases on your hips. “That’s it, baby. cum for daddy.”

“I’m cuming daddy, I’m—“ You gripped your knife, taking Chan’s abandoned one before plunging both in his head. His smile dropped, a small and weak, “baby” leaving his sweet lips before spitting up blood on your chest and he fell limp. 

You didn’t stop, however, given the fact that your orgasm had just arrived the mere second Chan tasted metal in his mouth. Your moans could’ve been mistaken for anguish if not for the smile on your savage face. “I’m cumming all over your cock, Daddy, fuck! You’re so good to me, you do so much for me. I love you so much. Hitting my spot even in death.”

The wave of climax finally started to fade, unlike your smile, wretched and demonic. “Thank you for your sacrifice, Daddy. I’ll miss you so much.” You kissed deceased Chan’s lips, coming down from him, and fixing his pants before fixing his pants before pulling your shorts back on your body.

“Y/n…what the fuck?”

Watching you pull the knives out of Chan’s head, Wonwoo's expression was a mix of confusion and horror, struggling to back away as you approached him calmly, almost serenely.

“Chan has served his purpose,” You answered plainly as if obvious. “It was his time.”

“You did that, all that, with him, and you MURDER HIM? Your partner in sick, sick psychotic crime?”

“I told you spice was necessary, plus I’ve grown rather fond of you.” You bent down to his level, eyes noticeably just a deep pit of disparity. “I couldn’t let him kill you, so I beat him to it. Good thing too, because that was the best orgasm I’ve ever had.”

Wonwoo whimpered under your touch—well, the knife’s touch—as the tip of it dragged over his jaw, drawing out a shudder. “Y-you’re letting me live?”

Your smile. That damned smile. You and Chan were mere reflections of each other. How had he not seen this sick image sooner?

“As long as it's with me, because you love me right? That’s what you said. You’ll always love me and keep me alive. You promised.”

You pressed the blade against his neck, “You’re cold-blooded. Fucking your dead friend’s girlfriend, leaving your other friends to die to save me, and taking on a mass murderer just for me.” Your other hand caressed over his face. “That’s hard fucking core, baby. I love that so much. You really love and want me. Well, I want you just as bad.”

“Like you wanted Chan?”

You scoffed, using the knife to point at the abandoned soulless body on the ground. “Chan was disposable. He was already fucked up in the brain. I can nurture you, let you prove you’re that you’re mine and only mine. Then I’d have no reason to kill you. Not at all…say you’ll be with me forever.”

“…yes, sweetie. O-of course I will.”

You sighed a breath of relief, your harmless hand coming over to stroke over the stray hairs on his head. “That’s my daddy. My one and only. We can be the finals. Together. Only us—”

“Hello! Wonwoo! Y/n!” Miraculously, Seungcheol found their way to you, barely alive it sounds like.

Rage filled your eyes. “Holy fuck how is he still alive,” you mumbled under your breath. “I’ll take care of him.”

You held the knife to your side, standing by the door and away from its open view. “Cheol! In here! We caught the killer!”

Seungcheol managed to find the defaced door, peeking through the rubble to see a disheveled Wonwoo, panting and close to death. “Wonwoo!”

“Cheol…” Wonwoo grunted. 

“Hang in there, buddy. I’ve got you.”

“To…your…right.”

You glared at Wonwoo, betrayal in your eyes before launching yourself at the hero, who hardly had a scratch on their body. Seungcheol, taking his friend's warning in consideration, built up a wall of defense. His eyes caught you just in time and held up your arms, pinning you against a wall. His eyes finally registered on your face, and his grip on you only tightened. “Y/n, you evil little bitch.”

You chuckled tauntingly, struggling against his weight and strength. “Hi, Cheol. I know you always wanted to stick something in me, mind letting me do it first?”

“You—wow, you’re actually mentally deranged.”

“You don’t like that? Maybe my knife through your skull can change your mind.”

He kicked you in the groin, having you plummet to your knees, cusses streaming out of you like a river. “You pussy. Ass. Bitch.”

“Seungcheol,” Wonwoo groaned, painfully cheering him on.

You managed to kick Seungcheol down in your distress, crawling on top of him to gain leverage. “I know you liked to be topped.”

You held the knife, hands wrapped tightly around the handle before striking. Meanwhile, Seungcheol’s hands were wrapped around your wrists, the tip of the knife tickling his nose. Sweat beaded against his forehead, struggling harder than he thought he would as you smiled still.

“This would be a lot sexier if you let me run my knife inside you, baby.”

“Fuck you and your demented punk ass,” he grunted.

“I would if you’d just FUCKING DIE!”

A gunshot follows soon after and the blood gushed from your neck, pouring from both ends and falling lifelessly against Seungcheol, who let out a shrill scream.

“I found a gun,” Seokmin proclaimed weakly from the door before fainting to the ground.

Seungcheol rolled your body off of him, sick to his stomach. “Sick crazy bitch.”

He looked towards his friend who remained helpless his entire journey before his eyes got caught on the dead body he only realized now. “Is that…”

“Yeah,” Wonwoo whispered.

“And they…”

“Yeah.”

“Fuck, dude.”

Seungcheol went around to pick up Seokmin from the ground, grabbing the gun. Meanwhile, Wonwoo’s eyes lingered over your body, in disbelief it was alive a mere second ago, then he saw something strange, causing his eyes to fly open. “Cheol behind you!”

Another gunshot. Right between your eyes and your body that stood for hardly a second longer than it should’ve—of course with the knife still in your hand—fell right back on the ground.

“They always come back,” Wonwoo quoted.

Seungcheol let out a deep exhale, loosening his grip around the gun. “And aim for the head.”

“Sorry about your house.”

“…sorry about your girlfriend.”

“Me too.”

post reading a/n: always like me to insert chan into anything fr. i have no excuses

Tag: @shiningstar-byulxx @misssugarlips @tommolex @hoeforhao @homerunhansol @goblinvern @dkakapizzaboy @junhui-recs @svtup @buffhoshi @meowmeowminnie @caratochan @lovebot4han @6969lilithcat @camisun93 @emmmui @toruro @jeonride @novalpha @nvmrljk @feat-sun @tinkerbell460 @aaniag @tacosandbitch @smileysuh (felt fucked up not to tag you bc you’re fucked it just like me 💕)

[siringadev]

I was thinking about why I love Nero so much, and I realized that there is not only something so magnetic and unique about him and his design, but how the core of his whole personality is built on a deep love for Weiss, despite the fact that he is an antihero and does not very good things (first under orders from Shinra, since he is a Deepground soldier, and then out of duress, to summon Omega = to revive Weiss), but all this is out of desperation and love. I do not know any other character inside the FF7 world and beyond, who is so motivated to act out of love as Nero. Even take other iconic pairs of loving brothers (because it is brother's love that is depicted as the strongest in JP games and anime), their motivations were different, and love was secondary.

Take Itachi and Sasuke, for example.

Itachi is stated to have a very strong love for Sasuke, but what he does ultimately causes Sasuke great pain. Yes, Itachi wanted to save him, but at what cost? And his main motive was: to prevent a world war. So, at the cost of his clan's life and Sasuke's mental health, he does something terrible, and I still can't accept it as an act of love. It seems such an unhealthy, twisted form of love, illogical and scary.

And yet, I cried watching those scenes where Itachi reveals the truth, where Sasuke cries, everything is built to squeeze out tears.

Next, Madara and Izuna.

It is stated that he loved Izuna, and loved him even more than Itachi loves Sasuke. And how is this shown and proven? Well, it seems like almost nothing. Madara's main motivation is to become the strongest shinobi, to take control of the world and establish his own order, and thereby establish peace through strict control and then through magical illusions when he became disillusioned with contradictory and rebellious human nature. I understand his motivations, and he is one of the most admired character in Naruto. But what does love have to do with it? Izuna is not even present in his motivation. He simply died and caused Madara's grief, making him cruel and aggressive. And also gave him his eyes. But what besides this?

As for the others, like Lothric-Lorian from Dark souls, their connection was forced by the curse, and their motivation is simply to disobey their superiors. Their essence is nihilism and fatalism. Love is just an accompanying quality.

Not to mention Miquella, who did not show love as a personal emotion, although it seems he should embody universal love. We just can't see his love for Radahn or Godwyn or anyone to the point that we start to wonder if there was love at all? Or if there was love but it wasn't shown? So he is out of the love list.

If we talk about the love of Sephiroth, Cloud and other characters of FF7, they are so far from ultimate love that it does not even occur to me what can be said. Probably, Sephiroth wanted to love, but could not find anyone, suffering from loneliness and his own inability to build healthy relationships, and Cloud had many friends whom he valued, but never found "the one and only", whom he would love completely and unconditionally (which is why ship-wars still rage). It seems that Sephiroth could have become that one and only, considering how much Cloud idolized him, but Sephiroth ruined everything. Yes, Shinra is to blame for this, but partly it is Sephiroth's character, his selfishness and inability to put someone else's feelings above his own. Considering that Nero and Weiss grew up in much worse conditions than Sephiroth, and suffered abuse and pain from Shinra that Sephiroth did not experienced, yet somehow they were able to form the strongest bonds of love with each other and the healthiest relationships with each other (not toxic, not abusive, but built on loyalty, devotion, trust, unity and intimacy).

Sephiroth was so unlucky in love that even his own clones wanted to leave him in the DFFOO, and Weiss even laughed at this, telling Sephiroth that his puppet (Kadaj) cut his strings. And Kadaj, embodying young Sephiroth personality, longed for a family and to find someone who understood and cared for him, and he saw this in the illusionary form of Jenova. Sephiroth could have given him this care and love, but he simply used him as a tool, which hurt Kadaj. As for Weiss, he remembers Nero as the only one who understands him and cares for him, someone without whom he feels incomplete.

"Without Nero, there is no me" - this shows Weiss and Nero's relationship from Weiss' perspective. In DoC, we see their love from Nero's perspective and might have doubted about the reciprocity, but DFFOO shows that Weiss loves Nero as much as Nero loves Weiss.

Each case is unique, and each deserves its own respect and admiration. I simply analyzed one aspect, like love in a character, and came to the conclusion that Nero may be the strongest embodiment of this love at the moment.

[samiiy20]

Tits, ass or thighs w/ stray kids (hyung line)

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: ot8 x reader 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐞: smut 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 911 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: spanking, degradation, hair pulling, sex, nipple play

masterlist II tag list ll maknae line

This content NOT is for minors!!!

This is merely entertainment, this does not represent any real person.

It is forbidden to copy or translate my work.

English NO is my first language.

bang chang: ass

He just can't resist when you walk around the house in nothing but panties and one of his shirts.

He likes to put you on all fours and watch your back arch while he holds your butt tightly.

He likes to watch your butt turn red with his hands and hear you moan while he does it.

Your mind was blank, you couldn't think of anything other than Bang chan's hands on your waist and how he hit your insides with his cock. Your legs were tired and your hands could no longer support your own weight.

"Come on honey, give me one more"

The only thing that came out of your mouth were desperate moans as your back arched. You bit your lip as you felt Bang chan's hand land on your ass and clenched your insides around his cock.

Bang chan struggled to continue but when he looked down at your cute ass and heard his name he couldn't resist any longer and released his load feeling you doing the same. He lay on your back and you moaned as you felt his essence spill over your thighs and his kisses on your neck.

"You are a good girl"

lee know: ass

You've seen it, that man can't live without an ass nearby and not being able to touch it.

He will simply walk up to you and put your hand on it because it is his.

He will just push you to any surface and bury his cock just to hear your bodies collide.

Minho's kisses on your neck were driving you crazy, his hands kept touching your buttocks and playing with your core.

“Stop playing,” you sighed when one of his fingers buried itself inside you.

"Ask me"

You bit your lips and sighed as his fingers continued inside you.

“Shit Min…please.”

You heard laughter behind you and couldn't say anything else as you felt his cock fill you.

His attacks did not stop at any time and the papers on the desk had been left lying on the floor for a long time, everything was a disaster.

Your hair, your back marked with his kisses, your legs shaking and your hands scratching the wood beneath you.

"Are you going to cum for me?" You nodded, moaning and only felt a slight tug on your hair as he brought his lips to yours. “Do it baby, cum on my cock.”

His words made you break free, but you knew it couldn't end here when he grabbed you and turned you to kiss you.

changbin: thighs and titis

He likes the way you tease him so much when you sit in his lap and your thighs are within his reach that he can't resist touching them.

He can't get enough of you when you ride him, so he'll ask you to go faster while he marks his fingers on your fleshy skin.

He likes it when you ride him and he can see your tits bouncing in his face that he won't be able to resist touching them, sucking them and marking them.

You smiled as you saw Changbin's head resting on the couch as he fought not to moan.

His hands were squeezing your thighs as you bounced on his cock, your hands were wrapped around his neck you clawed at his shoulders as your walls caressed that sweet spot.

"You're going to finish me off," his eyes met for a moment before he placed them on your breasts and licked his lips, longing to have them in his mouth.

"Bine… I'm close" Changbin smiled and with one of his hands he squeezed one of your nipples while he saw how you exposed your neck.

You felt his lips on your other nipple and his teeth played making the knot in your stomach release.

"I love you," you heard him say as you rested your head on his shoulders.

hyunjin: tits

He doesn't like to start without first playing with your nipples because they are so cute that he can't resist putting them in his mouth.

He won't stop until he's had enough of watching your body shake from playing with your nipples.

You moaned his name for the thousandth time that night and your body shuddered when he squeezed one of your nipples hard.

Hyunjin's kisses on your neck only left more red marks to remember later, but his laughter echoed in your ears when he saw your legs trembling.

"You can do better" you struggled to keep your legs open and your eyes closed, but when Hyunjin grabbed your face and forced you to look at yourself in the mirror in front of you you saw how your cheeks turned red.

" I Can't"

You moaned, watching his hands move over your breasts non-stop. Only he could bring you closer to the limit without touching you where you needed it most and you would still ask for more.

"If you can" You let your head fall onto his shoulders and you felt your body shake but the feeling stopped suddenly and you fought not to shed the tears in your eyes.

"Please, I need you so much" you moaned as you felt his hand run down your body to your core.

"Tell me how much you need me baby" You couldn't answer and moaned when his fingers pressed against your needy clit.

"I like my name on your lips, keep saying it"

Tag list: @zuuhaaa

[ghoulsgraveyard]

Mattress Shopping

a/n: oops! all fluff! I wrote this one while not high and You Can Tell. this is a very soft fic, very domestic. It takes place in the same universe as Animal Instinct and is a direct sequel, but there is no piss kink, only references to it. content warnings: mentions of sex and violence, allusions to piss (hilarious phrase), emotional hurt/comfort. word count: 2k part 1

You were about to head back up to your apartment when Logan took your hand and started walking towards his car. “Lo, where are we going?” He looks at you, confused. “I thought you said you wanted to go mattress shopping?” Logan hated shopping. It was loud and crowded and too bright. It always took too long. But Logan also loved you. And he loved you more than he hated shopping. “You don’t have to come if you don't want to, I know you don't like shopping.” Logan opens your door for you before heading around to the driver's seat “I’ll be using the thing too.” he states “Besides, there are worse things I could be doing than spending the day with you” he grumbles out afterwards as he starts the car. You practically melt into the seat. It never gets old, his loving you. You’ll cherish these acts of love every single time. “You sap” you say with a giggle. “Yeah yeah, dont go telling people that.” he starts the car with a wink towards you. After hours of sterile lights and crackling top 40 hits, you and Logan had successfully found a mattress. The incredibly persistent salesman changed his tune very quickly after the third time he tried to upsell you and Logan had unsheathed his claws. “W-would you like to use our delivery and installation service?” he said shakily, one last attempt to up his commission. Logan had enough. “Listen pal, I don't need to throw money away on something I can do myself. I got two arms and two legs. Just give me the goddamned mattress” he was not loud, but he was also not fucking around.

After loading the mattress into the back of the car you were on your way back. “Thank you for coming with me” you smile at him and he furrows his brow “why?” he grunts out, eyes on the road. “You made mattress shopping better.” you tease, he lets out a humorless chuckle “Honey i was grumpy and threatened a salesman. I made that experience worse, not better.” You frown at this. “I don't think you did. You certainly got us a better deal on that mattress.” you look over to him, his frown still prominent.

 “Logan, you make everything better. Sometimes I feel like you don’t realize that I don't just love you, I like you. Like fundamentally, as a person, I genuinely enjoy being in your presence. I like to spend time with you logan. You’re grumpy and a little mean, you drink and you smoke and I love you all the same. You’re who I want to be with. You’re my person, you’re who I choose. There is no one I would rather go mattress shopping with.” 

He doesn’t have anything to say to that. What could he even say to that? How do you tell someone that they have shifted your sense of self? How does he begin to describe how your love has changed him? How could it not change him? He’s lived his whole life hating himself. his thoughts, his actions, to the very essence of his core, his soul, his being, he hated himself. Everything he touched he ruined, every person he loved died, he was the worst Logan and everyone knew it. 

Now he’s not so sure. How could he be so awful when you loved him so much? He trusted you, and he trusted your judgment of character, so logically he has to face that he’s not all bad. But it’s more than that. Your presence in his life has to be proof of something, call it god, call it the universe, call it karma, you were all the proof he needed that at one point he did something good. He must have done something really and truly good to earn you. There’s a voice in his head now to fight back that familiar dialogue. A voice that tells him he’s a good man with bad circumstances, a voice that tells him his mistakes don’t define him, it’s a voice that sounds like yours. If you, beautiful, kind and perfect you, could love him? He must have done something right. He has good in him, you make him believe it. All he can do is grab your hand and squeeze it. One day he’ll tell you. One day he’ll find the right words and put them in the right order and he’ll be able to tell you that he is devastatingly, irrevocably and wholly in love with you. But until that day he’ll hold you close, be sweet only for you, and even go mattress shopping. All for you.

That night, after you had gotten the new bed set up, you both went over to Wade’s for drinks. After about thirty minutes, Wade claps his hands with glee in the kitchen as he pours more tequila into a whiskey glass. He practically prances back into the room returning to his seat “Soooooo what 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂 shit did you two get up with today” he waggles his fingers at you. How did he do that with his voice? Nevermind. Logan sputters into his drink, recovering quickly “The hell are you talkin about?” he grunts. Wade looks delighted. “I am so glad you asked pookie” Logan groans as he continues, “I was on my daily walk around your building and I couldn't help but notice a set of your sheets and a whole mattress in your dumpster!” Wade teases. “Daily walks?” Logan growls “you root through our trash?” you question. “Hold on, don't turn this around on me, either you’re sexual deviants or Wolvy dear is getting really old, or both!” Wade coos, sipping his drink.

10 minutes later when you’re finally able to separate Logan from him with as little blood shed as possible (with varying degrees of success) you decide to cut the night short. Thirty minutes before blood might be a new record for the two of them actually. Logan presses the button to summon the elevator, you reach for your phone to- shit! “Babe I forgot my phone, I’ll be right back” he lets out a hmph to confirm he heard you. You jog back to Wade’s door, opening it with ease. Fucker never locks his door, says it an ‘open invitation’. Whatever that means. “Hey, sorry I forgot my phone” Wade leans against the counter taking a break from washing dishes. “Oh it’s all right boo” he grins as you search through the spot where you sat “But while I have you here” he trails off probing your response to his previous question. You found your phone… right next to Wade. Rolling your eyes at his antics “Oops?” he smiles. You punch him on your way out with no real malice, but before reaching the door, you turn back to say “Well it’s not the second one” you wink and jog right back to Logan.

 “Harlots!” you hear Wade yell at you from his door before slamming it. Logan raises an eyebrow in question “What did ya say to him?” you take his hand in the elevator “Oh nothing” you smile with a hint of mischief. He looks at you accusatorial “well nothing that isn’t true” Logan groans at your response “you know i’m never going to hear the end of this. I have to interact with him wayyy more than you do” you step out of the elevator, heading towards the car as Logan continues “He’s going to ask me more questions about it, and then I'm gonna have to stab him.” He opens the passenger door for you “thought you didn’t like it when I skewered the little shit.” Logan pulls a cigar from the glove box, slicing off the end with a claw. “Can ya give me a light here sugar?” he grumbles out with the cigar between his teeth as he starts the car. 

Fuck he was handsome. Devastatingly so. The wrinkles on his face from his seemingly permanent soured expression, his strong jaw extenuated by facial hair that would look ridiculous on anyone else, the way his shirt was unbuttoned so you could begin to see a peek of his salt and pepper chest hair, it just wasn’t fair that any man could look this good. 

“Hon” he grunts out. You snapped back to the present, finding the lighter a bit further back in the glovebox. You hold the flame to the end while he sucks in, creating a bright cherry at the end of the stick. “I never said not to skewer him” you start “I just said I think it's gross seeing your claws fully through his skull and finding two of his fingers in between our couch cushions.” Logan chuckles at this “So you don’t mind me brutalizing our friend, as long as you don't have to see it.” he puffs on his cigar. “Nope!” you pop, smiling at him “I can't believe you just called Wade your friend” Logan stops at the light and grunts out “slip of the tongue” while he looks out the window. “I don't think it was” you lightly elbow him “I already know you’re secretly a softie, I won’t tell him.” he exhales another billow of smoke, but you couldn’t help but notice the tips of his ears had turned a little red. You decide not to comment on it, smiling only to yourself. This was the Logan only you got to see. Everyone else in the whole world only knew him as angry and violent with brief moments of sincerity. He was gruff and brash and had a weird way of showing he cared. 

As much as you were his -lord knows you have the hickeys to prove it- he was yours. The Logan that learned how to cook just to make you breakfast in bed is yours. The Logan who will wear a face mask with you is yours. The Logan who uses his claws to chop vegetables is yours. The Logan who can’t sleep if you’re not in his arms, the Logan who stands between your legs while you sit on the bathroom counter to shave him, the Logan who presses kisses to your head and ties your shoes. He was a secret, locked away from the world, buried deep inside from years of putting up walls to protect himself. He only existed with you. 

What a gift. What a tragedy. What an awful thought, that he hides his kindness and vulnerability from the world. What an absolute honor it is to be the only person he trusts enough to let in. It doesn’t come easy to him, it doesn’t come naturally. He makes the conscious effort everyday to break down his own walls for you. 

Logan rarely says “I love you” ; those three words seem to choke him every time he tries to spit them out. But when he does say them, it’s always a whisper. Like if he’s quiet enough the curse that seems to snuff out everyone he loves won’t hear him, won’t find him. Like he’s worried if he says it too loud it will trigger some horrible accident that will steal you away from him, but even then he can’t help but tell you. He swallows his fear in the small hours of the night to whisper a promise to you. 

He doesn’t need to tell you. You can see it. You can feel it. 

You don’t realize you’re home until the car stops and you feel his rough fingertips on your face in a gentle touch “Where’d you go in that head of yours pretty?” he looks deeply into your eyes. “Just thinking about you.” you smile and press a kiss to his lips before opening your door and getting out. “What about me?” he locks the car and slings an arm around you as you walk towards the elevator to go back to your home. “Just how much I love you.” Logan pushes the button when he lets out a “hmm” at your answer, looking away. His ears were pink again. You tug his collar down for another kiss then whisper in his ear 

“I think we need to break in that new mattress” a/n: I hope you enjoyed! let me know if you're interested in a part three. nothing motivates me like hearing what people liked, so if you enjoyed and want more, let me know!

taglist @mistyorchid

[nightcolorz]

i feel like it’s acceptable to headcanon disorders like ADHD or autism or personality disorders to fictional characters but it feels like there is a taboo about dissociative disorders, making me hesitant to say this (even though im pretty sure ive said it before)

But i really do feel like Armand has some sort of dissociative disorder (DID or OSDD) because it just seems so clear that he is not really one person, one fixed identity. Arun, Amadeo, and Armand are all distinct personas, formed by intense trauma and kept apart by traumatic amnesia. I won’t pretend to be a psychiatrist but from what I do know of these disorders that is very much how they manifest and their defining feature.

It seems more this way in the show, especially with the scene where he refers to Amadeo and Arun in third person, and speaks of how he can’t really remember details like names or exactly how things happened (like how he says he was sold by his parents in 1947 vs how he said he was chased by slavers in 1973 (both could be true but it feels contradictory))

And how he does visibly act differently based on if he’s Armand (the cult leader, coven maître, the one being interviewed), Amadeo (who he was in Venice, rebellious, teenaged, who he has to be to Marius), or Arun (the child, slave, who Louis brings up to obey him)

You can definitely lean in with the Rashid thing as well, taking up different identities was easy for him because he’s so used to it, and being Rashid he was a servant, something he was already used to. Being Rashid was like being Arun again before he had to become Armand to counter Daniel.

It’s somewhat the same in the books but less clear, though Andrei, Amadeo and Armand are all definitely separate.

Anyway I really do think Armand has some kind of dissociative disorder with Arun, Amadeo and Armand being separate alters, rather than him having any sort of personality disorder.

Thoughts?

I ABSOLUTELY AGREE 100%. I have also been hesitant to talk about this, but I’ve been using it to influence how I write Armand in my fics!! but yes, all the way yes. I’ve had this headcanon since before amc iwtv s2 came out and I loooooveeee how they just solidified it with their characterization.ur incredibly right all the way.

even if u don’t think Armand literally has a dissociative disorder, it’s undeniable that he has the core symptoms needed to be diagnosed with a dissociative disorder. Not only does he have separate identities that carry separate memories, he also has huge gaps in memory and repressed memories, to the point where he can’t remember his entire childhood, which is like essential to having DID.

I think whether Armand could literally be diagnosed with a disorder like this is up for debate, but I think what matters more is that thematically Armand’s character resonates very close with how these disorders function and affect people. A core part of his character is that Armand doesn’t know who he is, doesn’t have a clear or consistent identity, and can not function as a complete person bcus his identity was fractured before it was able to form. This is like, the essence of what it’s like to have a dissociative disorder lol. So regardless of whether he technically has did or Ossd, I think he definitely does thematically. Armand is all about how trauma can break the brain from ever forming an identity correctly, need i say more, lol

THANK U SMMM FOR THIS ASK AHHH!!!

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

I wish you would write a fic where Sharako Lohar sits on my face and smothers me to death

The ask game says maybe I will write a tidbit, so I will give you a little tidbit...

She lays on the rumpled silk sheets, the humid air and cloying scent of patchouli that lingers upon it doing little to relieve the sheen of perspiration that clings to her flesh, clammy and uncomfortable. She keeps her knees cradled to her chest, with no idea as to whether this position will help nature take its course or not. An old wives tale perhaps, but she will do whatever she can to help the seed take root. She wants to give Sharako a child, she lives to please her.

Through the thick curtains that separate her room from the next, she can hear faint giggles, the sounds of the Lannister lord she had just lain with now having his fun with one of her sisterwives. She would feel jealous, used even, were it not for the fact he was only doing this upon the command of her wife. She has spoken of wanting to have children for a long time, and the idea of being able to bear Sharako the one thing she knows will make her happy makes her chest swell with pride.

It had been a long time since she had allowed a man inside of her. The sensation had been strange, an act of rediscovery. Tywin...Tymond...what was his name? She cannot remember. For all of his Westerosi pomposity and mainland ideals of propriety, he had been a surprisingly adequate lover. His touch was more gentle, hesitant, compared to the rough voracity with which her wife took her. His hands were almost reverent against her body, and when she had peaked it had been a delicate whisper of a sensation that had made her sigh in pleasure. It was nothing like the way that Sharako made her tremble and cry out like a wild animal on an almost nightly basis.

Her thoughts are interrupted as Sharako steps through the curtain, regarding her with a lopsided smirk as she stands at the foot of the bed, her eyes roving lustily over the prone position she finds her wife in.

"It is done then?" She asked, inclining her head towards her.

"It is, he has moved onto the next."

"How was it?" She asks, rounding the bed slowly, like a lion stalking its prey.

"Different," comes her response, feeling her skin heat up with mild embarrassment.

"Did you enjoy his cock?"

She laughs out loud, the brashness of the question taking her by surprise to the point that the sound is forced from her. She is certain that for however long she is the wife of the admiral of the Triarchy she will never get used to her directness; it will forever catch her off guard, and she has grown to love it.

"He does not possess your skills, my love, but I am sated."

"And glad I am to hear of it, but I find myself left wanting."

She sucks in a breath, feeling her core throb with want, causing the Lannister lord's spend to trickle out of her. Instinctively, she lowers her legs, parting her thighs, before Sharako shakes her head.

"I will not lap up the leavings of a man who is beneath me. Tonight you will please me."

She swallows thickly, her heart racing as she considers her wife's words. It is not often that she is given leave to take charge, but if Sharako wishes to have her between her thighs, then she is eager to please.

Her fingers move to the lacings of her jodhpurs and she watches as her deft fingers untie them, shedding the material from her legs, leaving her bare from the waist down.

It is not until Sharako moves, climbing onto the bed and placing a knee either side of her head that she realises she has no means to relinquish control. And as she lowers herself, the taste of her essence tart upon her tongue, faintly like the sea upon which she so loves to sail, she knows she would not have it any other way.

[bluginkgo]

Depression is hitting hard, but you know what hits harder? Eternal Dream with the context of ep7

I kid you not, I was doing regular chores and brain said "Hey, pssst, eternal dream is HELLA depressing now."

...

BRAIN I DID NOT NEED THAT-

So here's me dissecting Eternal Dream yet again but with images from ep7 just to cope ;w;

Spoilers duh

(indicate my thoughts/ramble/not part of the lyrics)

I am tired of this dream Will it ever end for me?

(Betrayal after betrayal, the general tiredness of being let down over and over)

I don't have the will to know... Can you help me see?

(This verse remains a bit up in the air for me, as it always has been. I'll try a jab at it though. This is Uzi asking for help. She's tired of the horrors, the secrets, and betrayals. She needs someone else to help her see that this is not a waste of time. She needs N to help her see that there is going to be someone to encourage her.)

Let my body keep you warm Let my essence be your breeze

(So, technically, these images are rather hard to connect. But going with "Let my essence be your breeze" everything that N does in the fighting scene is to get Uzi to return to herself. Her entire being and personality is what is driving N to fight so hard. And in turn her "essence" becomes his "breeze" and will to fight back in situations that seem hopeless.)

Can you hear me calling? Please look out for me

(And he does, despite fighting to the death, he still continues to look after her TwT)

Can you set me free? Will you take my soul away?

(I keep going back and forth on this one. But the more positive one would be if N could set Uzi free from the Absolute Solver, like he has done in ep4 and helped in ep7.)

Casting me in cold Bury me in bones Rest eternally

("Bury me in bones" was first made me think of even doing this silly thing 😅 Because Uzi is literally going to be buried in the grave of Absolute Solver cores and humans that the solver snagged during the core collapse.)

Will you take me home? Can we see the moon again?

(I'm mostly pulling on the moons because they're seen in the background. This can be taken also as a way of asking to go back to the old times. To the times when none of this happened before.)

Dancing in the dark

(Hey, I know I've overused this, but I still can't stop thinking that this was a nod back to ep3. Their entire fight seems like a dance... a brutal, angst-filled, dance ;w;)

'Till we fall apart

(You know, I WAS THE ONE THAT FELL APART TwT. In all seriousness, they did fall apart. Fell/forced apart by the events of ep7.)

I can't end this dream

(This is not the end. Despite being ready and accepting of death, I- personally, so feel free to yeet this into the void- believe her job is not done. She still has something else to settle. And this dream will not end until Uzi finishes that job.)

Does this make any sense? I reckon not. But I needed Eternal Dream out of my head, and this is the only way I could think of getting rid of it ;w;

[50shadesofoctarine]

The Hoard’s Prayer:

A gift for @chernozemm

Spirit and skin are incongruous. Oil and water; soul and sweat. This flesh made mine by G-d. These desires ungodly. Do they spring forth From the same river basin? An oily foam skimming atop The drink with which I shall never thirst.

Are food and wine not Communion too? Might I hunger for them? Would You permit My tongue to touch the loaf? Unleavened and unflavoured, Nothing of substance. I need no calories; Just a sinking stomach-stone To quell the ache of peristalsis.

Spirit and skin, both Want. Him. But other things too. Good music is nourishing For the celestial core More than the ear it sits upon. He would fatten the grace of me, The light beneath my bushel, If only I asked. And I would thank You, If only You let my essence feed. Praise Your name For the gift of him.

Is it the greed that You abhor? The gluttony. When the thought of him Is smeared across my mouth. Or is it idolatry? That I should lo— It is the gluttony, I suspect.

I have wandered Six millennia, cast into the desert. The snake, too, tempted me. Like the Son of man I prayed in the Garden of Gethsemane, And bled mortal blood, And cherished my enemy, And wanted.

Forgive him, For he knows not What he is doing. Forgive me, For the sulphur-taste, On my tongue.

Is it the physicality? Might that be what displeases You? Judas and his kiss. Did Jesus, too, Desire more? Or am I alone, Heaven made flesh, Malnourishment carved into the bones.

Humans were created, Like me, From this intersection Of ghostly (sin)ew. You bless them, The undeserving beasts. Why am I then scrapped With Your first draft in the flood?

You let David keep Bathsheba. I have wanted him For longer than David has lived. What must I do To satiate the rumble Of the thunder in my stomach? Your first storm, Made before Adam spied Eve, Under the ark-curve of a wing In the rain.

Let me keep him. Just this once, I speak plainly. Let me have him, Let me taste the skin sweat on his brow. Joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, Faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control Nine fruit he has offered me. I am full, only when I indulge in these. Spirit and body as one, It does not feel like sin.

Let me bite into him, Savouring the flavours, Of the blood and viscera You curse-blessed us with. ‘Oh, LORD,’ I beg. Let me devour The unnamed fruit Of the spirit-become-flesh.

You made me to thirst. Now make me to drink.

But who am I To make demands of G-d?

[kawaiijohn]

Danny wakes up in PMMM and wants to murder the weird God cat that's bothering the kids

Ok I wanna write this

"Get back here you rat!"

The white rabbit-cat thing dodges another three of Danny's ecto rays as he races through the back halls of a mall under construction. He has no idea where he is, only that the thing he's chasing is bad news.

It has eyes not unlike the Observants, and a voice laced with double meanings. Danny didn't appreciate it staring into his soul- his Core, as though it could sense it.

The creature keeps running for its life, able to appear in places it shouldn't be near before Danny can strike it. The strange ring-like structures around its long ears seem to ring strangely when his blasts whiff the beast.

The short chase comes to an end when he hits a dead end. He skids to a stop, panting- somehow unable to summon his ghost form after the portal tossed him here. He's shocked he can even call upon any of his powers, stranger that the only one he can access are his ecto blasts. But it's not completely shocking- places outside of Amity tend to be less forgiving with their low ambient ectoplasm levels. The halls are dark, ominous- there's a tension in the air not unlike a ghost attack waiting to happen.

He doesn't like it.

Danny uses a ball of ectoplasm as a flashlight as he creeps through the more chained-off sections of the mall, a tingle creeping up his spine. He wants explanations, and the creature knows something- it has to with how it stares into Danny's soul. It's the only lead he has, and he's too stubborn to give up on it.

"You know, you would make an incredible magia- all it would take is making a contract with me."

Danny nearly screams as he whips around. The strange creature sits perched, not unlike a cat, on a construction barrier directly behind him. Its eyes stare once again into his soul, digging into his very essence. Danny's eyes dart around the dark, trying to find anything to use to his advantage. He comes up empty handed, so he does what he knows, and stands his ground.

Intimidation it is.

"I'm not stupid enough to do something for a creature that really shouldn't be able to talk. Especially if it involves contracts." Thank the Ancients Sam had a phase where she obsessed over Faustian tales and fae folklore. That and his firsthand experience with Desiree. Be careful what you wish for, and all that.

"You do seem to be someone who has had dealings before. You are one step away from being a Magia, after all." The creature appears directly next to him on a pile of equipment and grooms itself with a paw. "It would be rather easy on both our ends to embrace your full potential. All you would need to do is Wish for something- anything you desire. And you'd finish becoming what you were meant to be- a Magia."

Danny starts, jumping back with his hand glowing. He hadn't heard it approach.

"Jokes on you- I know how wishes work!" he exclaims, taking a fighting stance. "No matter what, you'd twist it into the opposite of what I want, and I'm not gonna fall for it." The ecto energy crackles in his palm, anxiety at being stared at by those beady, soulless eyes gathers in the back of his throat like acrid lightning. Or like the nerves before a test.

Danny bristles as the creature pads up to him from its perch and tilts its head.

"Interesting- although you have no contract written binding your soul, you are somehow more like magia than human. Tell me, Daniel Fenton, did you receive anything in return for the sacrifice you've made? Do you have a reason to fight the Witches wherever you hail from? Or were you granted this terrible responsibility without fair compensation- no benefit to your life for the amount of magic you expend fighting."

Danny stills and shudders, still unable to force a transformation in the low ectoplasmic atmosphere of this place.

"I simply wanted to offer my services. To help you fight, for protection- to make you feel... whole. Tell me," it looks once again into Danny's soul, unblinking, "Are you aware of how close you have wandered to a truly Hopeless being's lair?"

The walls around him shimmer with unreality, he can hear whispers of a bastardized, corrupted form of Ghost Speak echoing in his head. It physically pains him to listen. He slams his hands over his ears to drown out the noise, but it tickles the back of his brain, makes the space behind his eyes itch. His Core pulses in warning as the room shifts as though it were underwater.

"What is this?!? What are you doing?!"

"Nothing. The culprit to this disturbance is a Witch- a creature made of the despair that lives in the darkness of humanity. A being that wishes to spread misery and corruption upon the innocent." its eyes remain staring at him. "With how you are now- incomplete in your form, you will not survive should you be pulled in to this labyrinth you have wandered near."

Danny looks up from where he'd ducked his head. His Core pulses again. Whatever this thing messing with his mind is, it's similar to a ghost- but wrong. Corrupted. Evil. And yet... sad. He steels his face and glares back at the creature.

"Witches are creatures of pure darkness, they cause unexplained suicides, death, sickness, catastrophe. You are simply unable to unleash your full potential in your current form, but if you make a wish, sign a contract- you would be unstoppable."

"I don't need to be unstoppable. I can handle... whatever this witch thing is without your help- and it's not like I plan on getting caught in a labyrinth. I'd rather not fight another Minotaur."

Danny begins to walk away from the shimmering spots, but can't find the way he came. The chains hanging from the ceiling whisper with anguish.

The creature continues to follow with its blank expression.

"Suit yourself, Daniel Fenton. My services are only a call away. You'd be surprised how amicable I am to those who change their mind last minute- in fact, we encourage it."

And with that, the creature leaves.

Danny clamps his hands over his ears again. The padding of his sneakers through the endless maze of mall construction echoes hollowly through the otherwise silent back halls. "Sam would be pumped to find out the backrooms are real." He laughs joylessly. Danny has no idea how long he's been wandering, but he knows he's not lost. The mall is shifting around him as he wanders, and he knows he's being watched.

He scratches at his wrist idly.

It had started itching, right over his death scar, about fifteen minutes ago. The whispers make it itch more, and he grumbles. He's getting frustrated- usually by now the ghost watching him would have jumped out and attacked, but whatever the thing watching him is (the witch thingy most likely) is biding its time to piss him off.

Another wave of empty emotions waft over him from a doorway that wasn't there the last time he circled this very hallway. His wrist itches more before suddenly burning as though electricity shocked him once again. He looks down and gasps at the strange butterfly marking that's appeared on his wrist, just as his hand reaches for the door of its own volition.

Danny seethes as his body disobeys him, but is brought to stunned silence when the door opens, sending the hallway it leads to flying towards him. The next doorway barrels at him, and he closes his eyes to brace for the impact before it opens as well.

Again and again doors race forward and open, before he finds himself in a domed garden of brambles and roses.

Danny feels his Core lurch as the mark on his arm burns brightly before fading.

"That was weird..." he whispers to himself. He only takes a few moments looking around before finding a rock made of paper to hide behind. The inner sanctum of this Ancients forsaken Labyrinth is enormous- everything looks as though its made of collage paper and watercolor. There's a large chaise lounge in the center of the room, surrounded by strange creatures shaped like dandelions with mustaches.

"Okay that's even weirder..."

The dandelion beings pass roses between them, piling them on and around the lounge in the center of the room. The lighting overhead in the glass dome is dim, but it seems to be getting brighter- the light itself pinpointing on something resting on the chaise.

Danny's entire being revolts as he looks upon the strange black jewel. The bottom is needle thin, resting on a soft silk pillow without making nary a dent. A strange flash of light bursts from it- pure black as void and cold to the touch. It begins to break, forming into a disfigured shape. The shadow it becomes undulates and pulses, growing more and more gargantuan as it explodes from the jewel with a shattering scream of terror.

Danny feels his eyes involuntarily water, the tears falling freely down his cheeks as the jewel produces something similar to a Death Echo, forming into a being made of rose bushes, butterflies, and pure sorrow.

Danny witnesses the birth of something horrifying and his Core screams at him to run. This thing is dangerous, it's dangerous and wrong and will be his End. He stands to leave, but finds his legs unable to move. He struggles, panicked.

Roses appear from nothing as they quickly morph into black tendrils and ensnare him. He's lofted up, up, up to the Thing's- the Witch's 'face'. A corrupt butterfly stares back at him and howls. Danny shrieks in response, summoning an ecto ray in defense. He blasts the witch in its 'chest'. It doesn't appreciate this much, tossing him to the ground.

He shoots another few blasts at it as he falls, smirk on his face through the panic. But without access to his flight or intangibility, he plummets to the brambles below.

Danny forgets he can't summon his ghost form here. He remembers too late that his human form can't handle as much as his ghost form.

"Shit-"

"Oh so now you show up again."

Danny sits up from where his body crumpled. Thankfully, he only has a broken arm and a ton of scratches to show for it, having landed mostly in a fucked up rosebush.

"Have you given my offer more thought?" the rabbit-thing asks from its perch behind him.

"Sorry, I was too busy being jumped by a plant from my worst nightmares to think about wishing for a million bucks or whatever." Danny rolls his eyes, trying to hide the terror in his shaking body. "Seriously, do you have anything better to do than stalk me?"

"You are in no real position to ask this many questions, Daniel Fenton. This witch will kill you and devour you, and not necessarily in that order. It would be beneficial on both our ends for you to sign a contract with me."

Danny hates how right this little shit cat is. Without access to most of his powers, he's practically useless against a monster this large. And if he's useless he can't defeat, let alone escape. Not to think about what this thing will do to innocent mall-goers should it get bored of eating his corpse or whatever.

He shudders.

"They say dealing with the devil never goes well." he responds to the creature. "Although it's kind of a dick move, waiting to prey on me at my lowest point."

The creature stares at him with its infuriatingly neutral 'cute' expression. "Oh but I'm no devil. You may call me Kyubey. I am simply the familiar to all magical girls- in your case, magia. A contract with me would grant you the power to take on this witch, to embrace the potential you've already started to accumulate."

The witch watches angrily in the background, trying to seek him out amongst the brambles. Danny shudders.

"You keep mentioning potential. The hell does that mean?"

Kyubey stares at his soul with its vacant, beady eyes. "Never before have we seen someone manifest their own magic without a contract. It should be an impossibility! Bringing you to full potential could make you one of the strongest magia of all time. You could wish for nearly anything, and your potential would grant it!"

He considers it for a second as he hears the chains above them shaking. The noise blends in with the cacophonous whispers of dread.

"I..." Danny starts, another question on his lips before he feels the tug of magic on his Core, the sense of gears and hourglasses gripping everything around him. His head slowly turns as everything is frozen in place.

He blinks.

Kyubey's form fills with holes as the sound of gunfire reaches his ears.

Time resumes.

Kyubey's corpse collapses before him in a puddle of red and white viscera.

Danny screams, and the witch roars.

It wasn't supposed to happen this way.

In the near one hundred times she's done this month long song and dance, these back halls have only ever been occupied by four creatures. Herself, Miki, Kaname, and the Incubator.

So why is it there's a new presence? Why is Kyubey stalking a foreigner through the halls?

Never mind that.

She cannot fail. Her mission is clear, and she's once again ready to strike when Kyubey inevitably finds Madoka again, as it always does when this mall trip comes to pass.

Homura finds her patience wavering- it should have made its move on Madoka by now, but for some reason it's focused on a boy who clearly has no idea where he is or what he's doing. An anomaly in all these repeated timelines who won't even be able to see the incubator stalking him. She shouldn't waste her time following, but as soon as she loses sight of the damned incubator it'll strike. With her luck, it will snare Madoka in its claws in five minutes or less if she loses her nerve.

So she follows, shield in hand and ready to pounce.

It doesn't take too much longer for something to happen.

The boy, impossibly, sees Kyubey approach. Even more impossibly, he hits it with green fire when it asks for a contract. Her trigger finger itches, but it lacks a pistol for the moment.

Homura has no idea what to expect, but she did not expect for the boy to start threatening Kyubey, the same green magic being shot at it while in a fully human guise. Even stranger, the boy doesn't have any sort of indication that he's a magical gir- no a magia. He'd be a magia, she realizes.

Homura continues to follow the boy, long after Kyubey 'gives up'. With how he ignorantly walked right into a hatching witch's lair- Gertrude, one of the weaker witches to encounter she muses to herself- she doubts he's any sort of magia himself. Yet. Especially with how Kyubey is pursuing him. She wonders if this means Kyubey will leave Madoka alone for a while, with the boy catching its attention.

However, hive minded creatures can be everywhere at once.

Homura's momentary distraction causes her to stumble when a wall juts up from the floor beneath her. She curses when the labyrinth opens fully, separating herself and the boy she's investigating. There must be a reason he's shown up this loop, with how he can manipulate magic without a contract. There might even be the possibility he can help save Madoka this time, but she won't get her hopes up too high. Allies are far and few in between with how callous she must be to survive, and she doubts a normal looking foreign boy will put up with her aloof and cruel facade.

She fights her way through the labyrinth, using her magic to track the inner sanctum just as the boy witnesses the birth of a witch. There's no way he's a magia- not if he's reacting in enough fear to chill the room. No seasoned, or even new magia would dare show so much fear towards a witch. Not this openly.

Homura readies her gun as the boy is lofted in the air, almost too quickly for her to interfere.

Time pauses and he blasts the witch with his strange magic.

Wait.

How...?

Homura's brow furrows in distrust.

How is this-

Time resumes.

The blasts hit. The witch shrieks.

Homura is not close enough. She is not fast enough.

She is too surprised to stop time again.

And the boy falls.

Kyubey is a bastard. This is a fact.

The amount of times Homura has seen it approach Madoka or her friends at their lowest is astronomical, so she's not at all surprised to see it approach the boy after he takes what should have been a deadly fall. She's glad she's seen so much brutality in her short yet too long life- the sound of crunching bones is much easier to handle this way.

She wonders why Kyubey is being so persistent, but even more so, she needs to know how he was able to nullify her time stop, or at least how he was able to continue to move somewhat. She doesn't appreciate unknown variables, let alone ones that can be a threat to her mission. So she listens in- masking her presence best as she can from the Incubator.

"Oh but I'm no devil. You may call me Kyubey. I am simply the familiar to all magical girls- in your case, magia. A contract with me would grant you the power to take on this witch, to embrace the potential you've already started to accumulate."

Homura rolls her eyes. The Incubator might not look like a devil, but it is one she knows deeply.

"You keep mentioning potential. The hell does that mean?"

Homura prepares one of her more efficient guns, not liking the tone of the Incubator, nor the nervous panic in the boy's shoulders. Potential is power as a magical girl. The more potential, the stronger the magic and the more terrifying the witch. She reaches out to try feeling for the threads of potential surrounding the boy, shuddering as she does. Her eyes widen in surprise when it whispers the same tune as her own abilities- Time, but something more, something Other.

A possible ally, if she plays her cards right.

"Never before have we seen someone manifest their own magic without a contract. It should be an impossibility! Bringing you to full potential could make you one of the strongest magia of all time. You could wish for nearly anything, and your potential would grant it!"

Homura jolts to awareness then and there. The boy's eyes look resigned, his shoulders slump. He's going to do it- and she doesn't quite want to deal with either a new magia or witch with her mission on the line.

"I..."

Her decision is made. She winds up her shield and freezes everything as her gun unleashes a barrage of ammo at the Incubator.

Satisfied with the gored mess of the creature, she approaches the boy with a toss of her hair to soothe her nerves.

She's not surprised his eyes follow her despite the frozen time.

So she releases her hold on it and watches as he takes a shuddering breath and Kyubey's corpse collapses between them.

"You should not be here."

Danny snorts in response. "Believe me, I wouldn't be here even if I wanted to."

[hyunsvngs]

hey juno…its me again🧎🏻‍♀️.

okay so porn star chan…but hes ur boyfriend. youre at his house and hes filming a lil something so youre in the living room, you start developing this reall bad migraine and youre looking for the medicine you keep at his house. the issue is, your eyes are blurry from the migraine and you cant see well so you take the first meds you see…uh oh its his aphrodisiac he takes to keep himself excited during longer shoots…

SO NOW YOURE EXTREMELY HORNY AND WHINING FOR HIM THROUGH THE DOOR AND I JUST- JUNO DO YOUR THING BOO

oh…. my God. YU?!!!!?! SHIT.

putting this under a cut for potential dub!con since reader is under the effect of aphrodisiac pills, but she does gen want chan (mood). also this got way too long and i did modify the ask a bit BUT ITS SEXY SO ENJOY:D

pornstar!chan is filming a solo video in his room and you’re looking for your pain meds, rubbing your temples cautiously while you stumble through the house. you’ve been at chan’s place more than enough times, you know your way around, but the fuzziness around your eyes is preventing you from finding the bathroom door.

eventually, you all but fall into the bathroom and pull open the medicine cabinet, finding the familiar little white tablet bottle. you immediately choke back two, feeling refreshed instantly from a placebo effect. trying to block out chan’s dirty talk and deep, gravelly moans in his bedroom, you make your way back to the couch.

it only takes ten minutes. all of a sudden, you can feel your folds slicking up with your essence, and you try to ignore it. it wouldn’t be the first time you’d had a physical reaction to chan’s moans and voice ordering out commands in one of his instructional videos. except, as you hear his video come to an end, your stomach only pools with even more heat and need and you find yourself making your way to his bedroom before you can even process it.

he’s all done up, hair slicked back neatly with his signature gel and abs covered in massage oil. it had been one of those kinda videos. he’d just shut the camera off and cleaned himself up, and his eyes look at you in surprise when you enter. he was still naked. good, you mused. “baby! i just finished, heh, did you need anything?”

you’re crossing the room and straddling his lap before you know it, feeling your wet core sopping through your thin pyjama shorts. he lets out a little ‘oof’ in surprise, before his hands are going immediately to your ass.

you’re babbling, hands running up and down his body and slicking with the excess oil. “h-had a migraine, felt so dizzy, channie, but now- fuck, need you, need you, can you go again? can you-?”

“oh, baby, of course i can. always can for you, but-“ he blinked at you, winding one hand into your hair to pull at the strands softly. you keened, grinding down into his length that was already thickening with lust again. “oh my god, no fucking way.”

he was laughing. he was laughing at you while you were practically dying with need on his lap, and you didn’t even care, looking at him in slight confusion as you worked yourself up into a frenzy on his lap. “wha- wha’ is it, channie? need- hnnngg-“

chan didn’t halt the movement of your hips in the slightest, instead bucking up into you and letting you feel the erection he was sporting already. perks of being a pornstar - that refractory period was definitely a bonus. “i think you took some of the pills i take on set, baby. that’s why you’re feeling so needy for daddy.”

at the drop of his usual title in bed, you shifted your pyjama shorts to the side, letting him feel your wet folds gliding on his length. “hnnnn- the pills? w-what? ugh, don’t care! gimme your cock daddy.”

chan’s laughing again, a little chuckle leaving his plush lips in disbelief before he’s positioning his length at your dripping hole. he grips your hips, raising you up before lowering you slowly onto his thick length, letting you feel the big stretch. you keened, immediately starting to bounce up and down. chan groaned, leaning back in his computer chair. he was in shock you’d given yourself no time to adjust, but then he knew the effect these pills had.

you continued bouncing, moaning and keening and letting your fingers dig into his thick thighs.

“that’s it, baby. good girl. let daddy fuck that need out of you until you’re creaming all around my cock, hmm?”

-

♡ juno

(i’m sorry)

[bugtransport]

WARNING! DO NOT READ THE REST OF THIS ASK UNTIL YOU ACTUALLY FINISH KUUGA! I AM SENDING THIS PREEMPTIVELY BECAUSE I WANT YOU TO HAVE IT WHEN YOURE DONE.

Image buffer

Ok so I wanna hear your thoughts on the final fight specifically. I really adored how after all this hyping up of Ultimate Kuuga’s destructive power, rather than it being something flashy and explosive, it was… down to earth. Brutal. Just two dudes punching the shit out of each other in a way that was Difficult To Watch.

The final battle of Shin Rider felt like a callback to this, honestly. Just heartwrenching impact after heartwrenching impact. It’s not big or extravagant, but instead it shows that having to fight… sucks.

Sorry, I think about this particular fight A LOT.

YEAH YEAH i completely get what you mean. your buffer worked - i didn't see this at all until i had already finished the show and compared it to that one part in black (you know, The One). i think, as i chew through everything that happened in this show, that there's more i have to say about kuuga on the whole than i've managed to render right now, mostly about how it feels like they did really manage to distill a lot of the core feelings i've gotten from showa rider into something new and interesting and fun that they could do now that it's in vogue and possible to have the episodes a little more interconnected than they were able to get away with (sans a couple areas, like the 4-episode demon world stretch in black rx) previously.

the setup to the fight really worked for me. i think it was the right choice to watch the last 3 episodes on the same night so that we could start with ichijou, just some guy, just some human guy being the one to kill... that rose lady. you know the one. the one who has been around as a boss from the start of the show and who had a couple faceoffs before with him? you know, the one who, with her dying breaths, told ichijou that she realized humans could be equals to them, capable of the same destruction that they were? that she wished she could have faced off with ichijou again? that lady.

they had been setting the grongi and at least godai up as equals for a while there - there's the obvious stuff with the back and forth "i need to get stronger!" moments but the one in specific that stood out to me was when tsubaki was doing autopsies on the bodies that they were able to recover and he was like oh shit... these guys look just like kuuga on the inside?

kamen rider has this feeling running through it, this essence of "that could have been me, but it wouldn't have been me, couldn't have been me, because i love humanity too much, but i can only say that because after experiencing this, i'm still me," which is an odd feeling to put into words, but i think it's one that many people are familiar with. to come out of something on the other side feeling worn down and miserable but victorious and look back and see other people who have been through the same or similar things to you and for whatever reason, came out the other end differently.

hongo escaping being borged before they were able to complete his brainwashing, yuki being the one picked as a scapegoat and therefore realizing that what was going on around him was wrong, shigeru just straight up being confident enough to manage to trick people into borging him, nobuhiko being chosen as the favorite son just because he was the one who stuck around for a while leaving kotaro able to make his own decisions about what is right and wrong. these are all things that each of the riders did have an active say in, but they're also a bit dependent on luck to fully and correctly pull off. and i think godai also kind of picked up on that vibe. he's both reassuring people that everything is going to be okay because he believes in himself and his love for the people around him, and he does, but he still plans for the off chance that things can go wrong by telling ichijou how to kill him should things really go to shit.

that's it think the thing i took away most from this fight. the visuals are great, the whole thing just feels raw and uncomfortable to watch, which it should! this is the reality of everything that's been going on here behind the suits. we should feel glad that kamen rider doesn't have to fight anymore once this is over. kuuga flirts with this level of reality through the show and they completely full on commit to it at the end. but i think everything leading up to it and the context of the fight really helped me to put my finger this feeling that i've been feeling through the entirety of the show.

so. there you go. those are my stream of consciousness thoughts the morning after finishing kuuga... so much more to think about later!!

[crusherthedoctor]

Get a Load of Traits - PART 1: Sonic the Hedgehog

Way back during my Tumblr infancy, I made a series by the mouthful of What Makes For A Good Incarnation, in which I listed the main noteworthy traits that I consider integral for crafting, at the very worst, a still above-average portrayal of the character in question. By "series", I meant I did exactly three of them, then forgot all about it. In the words of Moneybags, I seemed to have temporarily forgotten.

In the years since however, I've went back and forth on going back and redoing them - as well as providing entries for those who didn't get one the first time around - because shall we say, a few recent portrayals have caused me to believe they're in need of some additional points or further elaboration. So now here I am to actually do it.

For the DX: Director's Cut, and for the sake of not dragging them out too much, I've decided to keep it all thematically consistent by sticking with 9 main points per character, in terms of what I personally consider the highest priorities for each of them. These will usually not be listed in any particular order of importance or relevance unless stated otherwise, and while there may be other major traits that might not get mentioned (in which case, feel free to bring them up yourself if you see fit), this keeps things simple and focuses on the points that have the most flexibility with how much of the character they encapsulate.

It should also be noted that these posts will be made with the game portrayals in mind, because the games mark the core of the franchise, and as such, they objectively contain the purest essence of the cast. Adaptations generally like to play by their own rules, some more gratuitously and inexcusably than others, and this will inevitably crop up with certain entries. All that being said however, I'll attempt to stay focused rather than devolve into another rant about this adaptation or that adaptation, only directly referring to them if I feel it's necessary for the point being made.

So without further ado, for today's installment, we're jumping right into the main Crush 40 enthusiast himself: Sonic.

Since Sonic was one of the characters covered in the past, much of this will be retreading old ground. If you know me well though, I'm sure you'll be able to tell which of it is new or expanded upon.

He's meant to be fun.

"Psst, the mandates don't exist."

We'll start with one so easy to get that you'd have to be purposefully contemptuous of the franchise and the character to suggest otherwise: Sonic is a fun character. He's all about having fun. He looks at virtually everything, no matter how precarious, as a thrill ride first and foremost. He is perpetually filled with a carefree love for all that life has to offer, has never been shy about it, and is known to enjoy fighting the baddies as well. Nothing keeps him down.

It's a large factor into why the franchise itself commonly boasts a sense of energy and wonder. If you don't acknowledge this aspect of Sonic's character... what are you even doing here? Why are you writing for him? What character are you seeing?

But he also knows when it's time to get serious.

Oh look, Super Sonic when it still had milk left in it.

Sonic's knack for making snarky quips of debatable quality can lead some into thinking he's incapable of taking anything seriously at all. This is how we get writers who seek to humble him for it... but unfortunately for them, they're not breaking any new ground: Sonic does get down to business when the situation calls for it, and even when he's joking around with whatever villain he's currently facing, he's always got his wits sharp, never going out of his way to be sloppy. And no, this isn't limited to the one-off villains and Godzilla-type Pokemon we know and begrudgingly tolerate: he more than acknowledges the very serious threat and crimes of the deceptively jovial Eggman's actions as well.

After all, do we not recall some of the near-death situations that Eggman has found himself in upon defeat, and how Sonic usually shows no concern over whether he survives or not? Do we not recall Sonic interrogating Zor over what happened to Tails? Do we not recall what he did to the Erazor Djinn when he refused to YouTube Apologise for abusing his former lover?

Sonic takes a lot of things quite seriously. More than he tends to let on. He just also likes to have fun at the same time.

He does not loathe technology.

"You're telling me this board was made with... SCIENCE...?"

Yes, Sonic is the nature foil to Eggman's scientific scheming. It's been a constant with the franchise since its inception, all the way to modern entries like Colours. But if Sonic hated technology itself, he wouldn't be best friends with a tinkerer. Nor would he own a plane.

The series as a whole has always been sensible about the matter compared to other green aesop-spewing media of the 90's. Rather than demonize technology outright, it understood the strengths it had, and how it could be used for nature's benefit rather than its detriment. Sonic CD visualized this wonderfully, as the Good Futures were fond of showing them side-by-side, in perfect harmony, with no cost to the land's health and beauty.

So with Sonic, he doesn't oppose technology. He opposes Eggman, whose methods involve technology. If you want Sonic to preach about the evils of tech as he drops a mahogany log in the woods and scrambles for a leaf to wipe his ass with, just go on DeviantART. Or watch SatAM.

He has selfish needs, but he's not a selfish person.

"Shit, I forgot the third paragraph of my principle monologue."

Sonic knows what he wants, and that something is his freedom. He's not going to be anchored down, he's not going to live a mundane life, and he's going to adventure and explore the world and beyond for as long as he can. This goes both ways: it's further reason why he confronts oppressive sorts like Eggman, but on the other hand, it can be hard to keep up with him at times, and since Amy has a clear vision on how she would want their future lives to be like as a couple, it's no wonder Sonic hasn't shown much serious interest in his friend in that particular way.

Don't get the wrong idea though; this doesn't mean Sonic is a selfish person full stop. In part thanks to several adaptations, a common misconception with the Blue Blur is mistaking him for a pure egotist through and through, who only cares about his adrenaline-fueled ecstasy and nothing else. Cause y'know, he's firm about his needs, and he has a cocky side, therefore he's full of himself, right?

Well no, not at all: his opposition to big bad villains would surely be enough on its own to confirm that he cares about everyone else's freedom too, so long as said people aren't doing anything malicious themselves. Yes, he fights villains because it's fun to him, but he also has a genuine hatred for injustice. He doesn't think like a typical superhero, where he fights evil and saves lives because he feels he has an obligation to do so, he does it simply because he wants to. How is that not selfless?

But it's even more than that: he's proven himself to be humble in spite of his cockiness, right down to dismissing any and all formal terms for himself when others use them. Half the time he tells the people he's saved to not sweat it, and the other half, he's already bolted before they can even thank him. Sonic largely doesn't care about the fame and attention that comes with being a repeated world saviour, and in more intimate situations, he's full of compassion there too. Hell, even in Black Knight, despite initially intending to slice Merlina in half in a furious response to her betrayal, he was later willing to show empathy to her defeated self, recognizing that she was an extremist, but not like the other villains he had faced.

Also, he doesn't have a history of treating his friends and accomplices like garbage. He might not see them all that often due to his globe trotting ways ("Long time no see!"), but he clearly values each of them. Even the ones he pokes light fun at on occasion, like Knuckles and Shadow.

He's impulsive, but intelligent.

Remember when Eggman had a conch? Starline didn't.

Like any character, Sonic does indeed have faults. Sonic is a guy who, when he sets out to do something, he'll do it, no questions asked. If Sonic thinks he knows the solution to sorting everything out, then that's all there is to it. This has worked in his favor more often than not, but it can also just as easily lead to mishaps, like the moment pictured above from Lost World. His cockiness has also been taken advantage of on several occasions, like in SA2 and Unleashed. Both of those were by Eggman, by the way. Just wanted to throw that out there.

However, Sonic is not an idiot. Just because he's a speedster doesn't mean he can't think straight, and his moments of recklessness are often born out of not knowing the full story rather than blindly charging in after already knowing better. If he makes a mistake, he'll acknowledge it and attempt to rectify it as soon as possible, and if he thinks someone else has good advice, then he'll be willing to hear them out, especially if it's coming from his life-long buddy, Tails.

To put it generously, Sonic's intelligence is prone to be heavily downplayed in certain adaptations, most notably in SatAM and Prime. This is usually done for the sake of forcing him to learn a lesson that a character like him doesn't really need to learn, or to prop up another character as the brains behind his operation. Or because Hurr Hurr Vroom Vroom Character Dumb. In reality though, Sonic is actually very intelligent: certainly not a super-genius like Tails or Eggman, but he's quick to pick up on details, and experience has taught him how to optimize his speed and acrobatics effectively and gracefully, while making it look completely effortless. He's also emotionally intelligent, being able to read a room with little issue, and when placed in a new situation, it doesn't take long for him to adapt.

So Sonic is a very bright person who just so happens to occasionally make impulsive decisions, for better or for worse. This does not translate to him being a Funny Penis Man. That's a vast simplification that tends to come from people who take the archetype that describes him at face value.

He only cares about how others perceive him when it's based on deception.

"Surrounded by evil knights and a girl I've never met before... better inhale the worst cuisine they've ever seen with my goatse mouth."

To paraphrase the hedgehog himself, he doesn't mind having to play the bad guy if it's necessary to do what he thinks is right. This doesn't apply in a meta sense - WE know he's doing the right thing - but what it means is that in-universe, he understands that some people might think he's the villain due to their perspective on the situation. And he accepts that, because he doesn't care about how his true blue self is perceived by strangers one way or the other. He doesn't expect or demand the rest of the world to live by his own personal beliefs unlike some iterations, but since they're his own, he holds no shame in sticking with them personally. He can only be who he truly is, and if some people have a problem with that, then he'll just have to take it smoothly with a Winston break.

But, as proven with Shadow inadvertently framing him in SA2, he does care when it involves Shit That Isn't True. Because if you're going to judge him, it better be for stuff he's actually done, and for who he actually is. Sonic doesn't care about attention, but he does evidently care about his identity.

The real super power of teamwork.

"Because... we're Sonic Boom: Rise of Lyric!"

Sonic Heroes is a game that frequently gets referenced in side-material, which is an impressive feat considering it condemned itself by dressing Metal Sonic like a wanker. Yet for some curious reason, despite all the Heroes referencing, writers have trouble remembering the entire theme of the game, because their idea of Sonic needing to learn the benefits of teamwork and friendship is... lol...? Lmao...? Dare I even say... rofl...?

Sonic is the last person on the goddamn planet who needs to learn this, and you'd know that even if you weren't familiar with Heroes. Other games have shown time and time again that he appreciates the contributions of his allies, and gives them the appropriate kudos with no shred of reluctance, all without placing himself above them in the process. And while he may not be quick to ask for help, he's usually willing to accept it when it's offered to him. Like in '06, in which he casually allowed Trunks the Hedgehog to help out despite his attempting to kill him when they last met.

Sonic knows the super power of teamwork just fine. It's in his business card. Him of all people needing to learn this aesop is a non-development, a cheap way to make it seem like the writers are doing something ~deep~ with him. Giving back something he should have had to begin with is not character development.

His thing about emotions.

"A tall girl. My weakness."

Despite his outward demeanour, Sonic has a lot of introversion deep down, what with showing himself a contemplative side on a regular basis, and most of his dialogue being fairly straight and to-the-point. As it happens, this extends to how he manages his emotions, aside from his alleged temper. Sonic is obviously not stoic, but you're not likely to see him break down in hysterics, or publicly show tears at all unless it's in private.

Some writers and artists - or should I say, certain writers and artists - consider this an abominable sin that must be rectified. They'll get it into their heads that Sonic shows no emotion at all, but never fear boys and girls, they'll fix that pronto. They'll give him the emotions that SEGA couldn't. And what do you know, the end results end up looking absolutely ridiculous, and simply not in-line with who and what our hero is. Fact of the matter is, not everyone wears their emotions on their sleeve, and not breaking out the waterworks is not the same as being an unfeeling machine altogether. As it applies to real life, it applies as well to fictional characters. Because they're not all going to be the same.

His introversion doesn't just relate to himself though. It also seeps into his visible discomfort in dealing with the complex emotions of others, especially those who can't shake themselves off as easily as he can. Notice how, during moments where someone else is upset by something he can't easily fix - such as Tails lamenting Emerl's demise, or Shahra grieving over Majin Ganondorf despite him being a terminal shithead - he often finds himself at a loss, needing a moment or two to think of what he should say or do to console them.

It's possible that, with his canonical tendency to not be all that open about whatever might be troubling him, under the belief of not wanting to make his problem their problem by extension, he might not consider himself the most well-equipped for someone else's anguish. Or maybe that's just a Game Theory. Either way, whatever awkwardness there may be on his part, he always does his best regardless, as he would for any other situation.

...unless it involves one-sided sadness. Then he's not as sympathetic.

He's an ideal.

"Fuck sake, another argument over voice actors."

Sonic is a static character. Deliberately so. He is also not meant to be a relatable character, at least not in the sense of what Twitter members who have never played a Sonic game in their life consider relatable, which is basically making the character exactly the same as them, beat for beat, including the mismatched haircut, announcing their pronouns every three sentences, and the compulsive thirst to speak to the manager.

Needless to say, this doesn't work with the fastest thing alive. Everything about Sonic - his refusal to give up, his refusal to let distress overwhelm him, his freedom to go where the wind takes him - all of it, and more, serves to make him an inspiration. And guess what? Characters are allowed to be that. Inspirational characters are just as important as relatable ones, because by seeing what they can accomplish, we can strive to become our best selves. Why would you want to take that away?

Every character, the good ones anyway, have a defined purpose. Sonic has his. Other characters in the series might be considered relatable, but that's not where Sonic himself lies. It's better to leave that occupation for others, such as those who were inspired in-universe by Sonic himself, like Tails and Amy.

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If you understand all of these points, and if you can take to them, then I believe you should have what it takes to write a good, or even great, portrayal of Say Yes to the Dress the Hedgehog. No portrayal is going to be one-and-one with that of another, there'll always be subtle distinctions depending on the writer, but you'll be fine as long as he's not a holier-than-thou dipshit who speaks more words than The Great Gatsby.

[writingakanatorior101]

Summary: An obsession with a mobster is something you have in common with police but said mobster being your boss is not. What does Alfie do when he finds out about your obsession.

Warning: Eating out, extreme sexual tension, alfoe patronising ppl

MDNI

He wasn't society's picture of attractive that was for sure with a beard and dark, unkept hair placed under a hat. The way he talked did nothing to help him everyone thought he was mad as hell.

Everyone, including you. But to you, he was hilarious, charming, and even in a way handsome. He was also your boss, well you were just a maid. The obsession was one-sided, really. Doing whatever you could to make your way to his office or near the door outside his meetings. You didn't care for his topics just his voice deep and unsettling it was to anyone who crossed him. But harmony when you were within earshot.

Or maybe it was the way you were so close to the smell of rum and brimstone. He was like the essence of chaos it was like some weird high. You knew everything about him being so close to him. He knows nothing about you. Just some maid in his household.

It was a few months back in a meeting when his eyes fell on you or any attention really pivoted you at all. All the servants were standing around the kitchen he stood in the middle of all of it. Addressing all of us. "Right so stuff is going missing around the fucking house, how is that." His breath is heavy and the silence is enough to scare most of the people in the room. "See the problem is that I think we're all being fucking spied on like like some fucking sheep and wolves. The problem is I wanna know who's doing the spying 'cause it's obviously someone on the inside." His voice raises by the end of the sentence.

But it wasn't that, that was scaring you it was the giggle that came from your mouth when the room was in complete silence while he was in the middle rage shouting for the "meeting". Everyone turned to you before he did. "Ahh yes the maid, is something funny to you." Within seconds he was in front of you he now seemed much bigger than ever. Towering over you.

A giggle erupted again not that it was one of laughter and nervousness. Truth be told you had no idea what was going on or why you were laughing this was all just hilarious. Maybe you had gone mad working for him in these short months or maybe it was just a reaction you had in his presence.

"It's nothing sir please contuinue." You were proud of yourself your voice didn't shake when you talked to him for the first time didn't seem scared at all. "Well, I'm glad this is funny to you." He turns away back to his speech. He turned back to his speech almost as if no one noticed. There's one thing you did notice though the heat pounding at your core the wetness deep between your thighs. You thought for a second he could see that wetness. That would explain the look on his face it wasn't a look of anger but one of satisfaction.

The meeting was released everyone exiting and so were you or so you thought. A voice starts from the back of the kitchen. Causing a deep ache of nervousness in your stomach. "Oi stay here yeah." You turn to meet his eyes they are gleaming like he spotted an opportunity. "Yes, Mr.Solomons what is it."

"Now" he started "I have been seeing you around for a few months, walking and cleaning around me house yeah. You always got a light in your hands sometimes a book hanging out in a corner watching me with those eyes." He moves closer, closer than when he was in the meeting he is nearly on top of you. To where you meet the cold tile wall of the kitchen. The rain outside takes over so loud it shrouds any words coming from the kitchen. No doubt the servaunts would gossip about this if they heard. He moves an arm to the left to trap you "I had people dig into your background to see if maybe you were associated with someone or anything on par with our enemies. I can't find anything as far as I'm concerned you are a normal civilian. From a small village with a small family and the only language you speak is English."

You look up to meet his eyes there a picture,they get a deeper blue when he is enticed with something. "I'm sorry I bored you, sir, that I'm not here spying on you, maybe I just like to watch you you're pretty entertaining."

His hand meets your hip to keep you in place he applies pressure to it. A little moan escapes. A hot blush overtakes your face "I'm sorry sir."

"No you're not, see I have had meetings in my personal office where I ask about you, think about you keep files and tabs on you."

"So small you seem wandering around the office never talked to me once". You can feel him bunching the dress up higher. The. wetness taking over and your mind getting foggy. You wrap your arms around him to keep steady. "Could you even tell I was watching you?" His voice was deeper now it wasn't angry but dominant. You have no response to his questions just a feeling of not wanting to let go of him. Alfie grabs you by your legs lifting you onto him. Now you really feel it the stifness the length. One very very prominent vain not to mention the curve. "Do you see what you do to me, every goddam night this happens because of you."

Finally, something erupts from your mouth that isn't a moan "What do you want me to do about it, sir?" You hug yourself to him now nearly completely off the wall and suffocate him with your boobs. The grip only gets harder so he can have more control. "No, no" he breathes "not like this. I have been on about for months sweetheart." You feel your feet hit the ground. "Sir, please don't leave me like thi-"

He couldn't leave you like this it would simply starve him. The months he dreamed about you, nights in his bed with his hand gripping himself thinking about how your thighs would feel holding onto him, how you tasted if you could take him and walk the next day. But most of your whimpers

Love sit down for me".Alfie still felt tall but there's only one thing you feel. That's the absence between your legs the lack of him or his member. No the only thing you could feel now was the table you were sitting on. Wrapping your arm around the crook of his neck and letting your other hand meet his hip. "Don't go please Mr.Solomons, is you leaving some cruel punishment?" There was a silent pause of him just looking at you. You were too undone for this, that stare could have commanded your soul. It was at that moment that Alfie grabbed your legs and pulled you to the end of the table. You were barely on it now. "There is no need to beg sweetheart I'm not going anywhere." It was now that you felt like you might burst from the sight. He was on his knees with his hands positioned on your ass holding you to him. All the weight from you sat on him you were inches above the table.

You couldn't see Alfie's eyes yet but you're sure they look stunning. Reaching down to caress his hair you feel it. Warmth and the wetness of his tongue. Like an inviting tsunami. His tongue moved in circles just the right way. His nose the way it was swiping your clit and feeling it move up and down was sinful or the way Alfie would say it. Fucking biblical. There it was the thing that sent you over the edge, his fingers long calloused, and thick. Curling inside of you perfectly. His tongue is rougher now less forgiving. The man was tongue fucking you like you gave him air. You could feel everything in and out of his tongue and beard. God his beard fucking beard, it felt cushioned so nicely between you. Alfie's face was going further and further, eventually, you were leaning back on the table again. The maids and rest of the servants could for sure hear now. Your moans were unmanageable and gripping the table was no longer sufficing to hold back the orgasm. Your thighs were shaking Alfie knew you were close.

"Please Mr.Solomons I'm going to be loud, I- I can't help it." Without even so much as a glance or stopping you could hear him breathe against your clit "No said you needed to be quiet love, why I hope you fucking scream." That coveted feeling came back washing over you. A feeling you had felt at night thinking of him. It was like touching the fingers of god. Trying to push Alfies head back to keep him from getting you slick all over his mouth and beard. The man didn't budge though.

You grab ahold of his broad shoulder to steady yourself, legs still shaking for the god-blessed tongue he is fucking welding. "Oi, why are you blushing sweetie. That was beautiful that was, why I had never seen a woman so vulnerable and pretty in a state like that. At this moment it was hard to meet his eyes. You had just fucked your boss.