#Why read any of this? why follow? why care?

[is-this-ai-generated]

AI generated verdict: provable and confirmed

long post incoming. sorry (not actually sorry).

tells: this was a tough one, at first glance, to point out any one aspect that made me go "that's definitely genAI." chiefly, the subject matter was that special kind of uncanny that triggered my brain to look deeper.

i couldn't find the smoking gun on a cursory investigation with just my eyes. nothing like "that guy's got 7 fingers and an extra arm" here. as such, i speculated that it was done by a very proficient user of genAI, someone who has a lot of experience in crafting prompts and iterating on output.

but that didn't stop me because the uncanny feeling was pretty intense.

in the end, the major things that tipped me off were meta-contextual in nature, if we were to assume this was a real photograph: the practicality of the object, and, crucially, the presumed level of media coverage of the object, were it to exist in real life.

much like with the egg salad machine post from last year, it boils down to two questions: "would this object feasibly exist in the real world? and if so, would it cause media stir/considerable attention if it did?"

put it simply: if you see an image purporting itself to be a real photo and your immediate reaction is "wow! that's really cool, i've never seen anything like that before in my life! it's really impressive, even!" my tip is to reverse-image-search it, to be safe.*

(*if you care, that is. all my posts are written with the assumption that you're reading them because you want to avoid getting tricked by genAI.)

and if, by image-searching said image, you are unable to find any article, no matter how big or small, highlighting its existence, and yet it's somehow all over social media, you can allow yourself to feel suspicious. because it is.

so in my search, predictably, i could not find any such article anywhere about this supposed object. but i did find the inspiration that this image seems to be based around.

there appeared to be a set of arcade cabinets that were carved from marble mentioned in a handful of niche gaming publications and/or other dubiously verifiable outlets in 2023... except it wasn't actually carved from marble. it was an earlier instance of genAI images for proof of concept purposes.

on to the source of the image itself.

source: it required a bit of deep-diving in multiple reverse-image searching platforms to drill down to the original poster.

eventually, i was able to uncover the following account on twitter: https://twitter.com/goo_vision

further than that, i was able to find the original tweet in which they posted this image: https://twitter.com/goo_vision/status/1909308836143362139

this account is self-identified as an "artist and designer" and states that they use "generative AI tools" in their bio. the poster also appears to get a fair amount of AI haters in their comments, to which they've replied defending their use of genAI in their works. lastly, they also post multiple images that all share a very similar theme repeatedly within a short period of time (such as 20+ images of various types of "arcade or media cabinets made of unusual materials"), a hallmark of iterative genAI images.

why is that a hallmark? when you request a genAI create an image based on a text string/prompt, it will often produce multiple feasible images that it "thinks" match to what you asked for. the user can then rate each image, if they so choose, to help educate/train the algorithm to be more accurate in the future. it looks as though this user may be using midjourney (or something similar; i'm guessing midjourney because it's really good at replicating photorealism) to generate these images and are picking through the ones they like best. pretty standard stuff, nothing out of the ordinary there.

bottom line is that this is another example of someone on tumblr reposting something they found elsewhere and not only not giving appropriate backlinks to where they found it, but also failing to tag it appropriately as genAI.

alright, this post is long enough. if you have questions about this one, or any other posts in general, feel free to send me a message; asks are open.

and as always, my ever-present disclaimer for my blog: I do not make these posts to drum up drama, call for brigade-ing/trolling of any identified sources, or insinuate any sort of moral failing on anyone whatsoever for reblogging/liking these images. i also do not make these posts to "dunk on" genAI users or enjoyers.

I created this blog to educate those who want to learn about what to look out for when it comes to AI generated images, how I come to my conclusions, and the tells they can look out for in the future. I do not condone any measure of harassment, bullying, or hate mail sent to the originating artist(s) that may be identified in my posts. this should also not be used as a jumping off point to harass or send hate mail to any blog I reblog from, either.

please check my pinned post for more info on how I run this blog.

[strawberrystepmom]

dante x f!reader. established relationship, a minor disagreement that ends up in hurt/comfort. | wc: 1.4k, reading time: ~5 minutes

“I’m coming with you.”

Your remark is firm while you practically chase after Dante who slumps down in the chair behind his desk for the briefest moment, pulling equipment from the drawers of his desk and putting it into his pockets. 

“No, you’re not.”

It irritates you how he won’t even look up, preoccupied with getting out of here. Your jaw slackens, eyes narrowing.

“Why not?”

Now he looks up, his own teeth clenched. 

“Because I’ve said no ten times and meant it every one.” 

He hates fighting with you. In fact, he hates telling you no about anything and you’re all too well aware of it judging by the way you seem to think you can wear his defenses down into a yes right now. 

Disengaging by looking down, he loads a few bullets into his guns which further irritates you. 

There’s no such thing as a truly unexpected job in his line of work. He gets calls at all hours of the day or night sometimes, reporting to wherever he needs to be to take care of business, but you don’t understand why he won’t let you come. It’s midday and he’s clearly playing coy about the threat level of whatever is out there meaning there may be a need for help.

Laughing sarcastically, you stand in place in front of his desk. 

“It amazes me how you are never this serious about a no until it has to do with what I want.”

Whipping his head upward so fast his hair falls out of place against his forehead, the man you love more than any other curls his lip and points all five of his fingers toward you, eyes wide.

“And it amazes me that you’ve never bothered to wonder why I'm so serious about it. How many times have we had this exact conversation?" 

There has never been a time where he’s raised his voice at you and he has no plans of starting now but you are seriously testing his patience. 

You fold your arms across your torso and raise your brows adversarially high. "I wish you’d just admit it’s because you think I'm weak and can't protect myself. Your little liability."

Finally, you push Dante to the point of a frustrated, humorless chuckle punctures the tense air of the room. You flinch in place, averting your eyes from him to other corners of the room that seem a lot easier to look at. Walls don't have eyes that pierce to your very soul the way his are right now, feeling them even if you don't see them.

"Will you please stop thinking the worst about me? I know better than anyone you can take care of yourself." 

He scoffs, another ironic chuckle following it. 

"In fact, this isn’t even about you. Have you ever thought for even a second that I keep you away from my jobs because I don't know what I would do if something happened to you? That nobody does?" 

You look up and he looks directly at you, brows furrowed. 

"Yeah, I've been called out about it before. By Trish and Lady and everyone who has ever seen the way I am when it comes to you." He shakes his head, rising from his seat behind the desk, reaching across it and grabbing your trembling hands. "They’ve all had the same thing to say about how you can't be around because my focus becomes keeping you safe."

He looks away from you, retreating to somewhere distant in his mind. 

"I catch myself thinking about a world without you sometimes and it's dark and heavy and...and I know I couldn't do it if I didn't have you."

"Do what?"

"Any of this.” He waves his hand around the waiting room of Devil May Cry dramatically. “Exist."

"Dante..." 

You click your tongue, chest aching at his words. They’re well meant but even the faintest insinuation of him stumbling into the bad shape he was when you first met makes you feel hollow.

"I mean it, sweetheart. You could come up with a hundred arguments and probably already have but I wish you wouldn't waste your time arguing with me about what the truth is. It’s not that you're weak, it's that I'm weak for you."

Now you feel like a real problem, pouting like a little girl while he airs out the truth. “Stop it.”

“No, you stop. Let me tell you how I feel and maybe, just maybe, actually listen to me for once.”

Pushing your fists against your eyes, you take a deep breath and allow the pressure of your knuckles to keep the levy holding back your tears from breaking. You probably look as pathetic as you feel standing there like this, shoulders slumped inward and breaths coming in staggered pants. 

Merciful man that he is, Dante never lets you suffer for long. 

You hear his footsteps round his desk in the  same pattern you memorized a long time ago, his warm arms coming to cradle you even if you won’t look at him. Your body naturally leans against his chest, fists pressed against his shirt, face hidden. 

“You’ve made me a man, not just someone pretending to be half one.” He unburies your face to kiss the tip of your nose, pulling you against his chest to bury your head beneath his scruffy chin. “And you’re one thing I wanna keep safe forever because of it. Is that so wrong?”

Shaking your head no, you sigh in lighthearted defeat. How can you put up a fight, especially when he is safely nestling his beating heart in your hand? You protect it, he protects you. 

It’s not all that bad of a deal when you really think about it. 

“You’re starting to give me a stomach ache,” you joke, lifting yourself up on the tips of your toes to kiss him. It’s a little brush of lips against lips, far less searing then how you usually approach. 

Still, it says everything. The pair of you remain locked together - two bodies and one shared soul - refusing to part even to continue the conversation. 

“Sorry for thinking the worst.” 

Your apology is only slightly muffled, mashed between his mouth and yours. He parts his lips to reply but chooses to kiss you instead, tongue dipping between lips he could not successfully exist without. You’ve given his world more than color, you’ve breathed life into every last corner of it. The least he can do is tell you so once in a while. 

Smiling against your lips, he stops for a breath and backs away enough to look down at you. 

“Let me know next time that happens so I can get ahead of it, okay?”  

A lighthearted reminder, sealed with another small kiss. The tension in the room gradually soothes itself, minute by passing minute. The safety of his arms even improves your mood slightly, your fists pressed against the center of his chest rather than over your eyes. 

“Please stay behind and let me come home to you in one piece.”

Chewing the inside of your cheek, you fight the urge to insist you need to continue fighting for your place in his life. He’s telling you clearly that you’ve earned it. 

“Alright,” you acquiesce, raising yourself up on tippy toes to kiss him again. 

Opening your mouth to continue speaking he shoots you a look, not venomous or dangerous, but serious. He doesn’t wanna argue about this again. 

You lean into him, big eyes staring. “Fine, God, okay. But you need to call me as soon as you’re done because I don’t know what I’d do without you either and cannot think about it so please don’t make me.”

Dante nods, chuckling. 

“You’ve got yourself a deal.”

Later on, after you’re less emotional and he’s home safe and sound, you’ll admit he’s right. You’ll mutter against his hair that he’s not merely a good man but the best one for thinking of you the way he does and that you constantly question if you deserve it or not. He’ll whisper to you that nobody has ever deserved it more, rocking you gently until you fall into a fitful sleep and leaving him awake for a little longer. 

Only then will he find himself alone enough to silently thank whatever force brought you, this stubborn, beautiful woman, into his life to save him. He’ll insist to this same force that he’s only making up for lost time by protecting you from danger to begin with. 

It happens every time.

[pagesfromthevoid]

Honey & Glass | r. r.

Robert "Bob" Reynolds x superpowered!reader

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: Mentions of suicide, not a lot of Bob interaction just yet, Valentina and Walker need their own warnings

Author's Notes: I love him, okay? I'm not even sorry.

Masterlist | Talk to Me! | AO3

Six Months Before the Void

“Sergeant Barnes, if you would just give me a chance –,”

“A chance to do what, exactly?” Bucky asked, turning to face the young woman who had –for the better part of an hour –been following him through the charity event.

“Help with your campaign!” She explained, throwing her hands in the air. “Sir, you’re an icon. A legend. So it genuinely pains me to say this. But you suck at talking in front of the camera.”

He stared at her for a long moment, considering what she was saying. Okay, sure –he wasn’t great at interviews. But he was polling better than everyone else running against him. That had to mean something, right? He rolled his neck, pushing aside an annoying tingle that had shot up his spine. 

“I know what you’re thinking,” she continued, stepping in front of him, putting her hands up as if she could stop him from leaving. “You’re thinking that you’re polling better than everyone else running against you, and that has to mean something.”

Bucky’s brow furrowed. “How did –,”

“And it does mean something –but it won’t if you don’t learn how to address the public. The whole ‘man of the people’ schtick gets old fast when it’s less endearing and more ‘is this man actually qualified?’”

He doesn’t have time for this, he decided, shaking his head. Then he reached out to just move her –something he didn’t really like doing, but she was too persistent and kind of annoying, so he needed her to go away.

“I’m not going away!” She exclaimed, ducking away from his touch –as if she anticipated it. “Also don’t manhandle people –sir, do you realize how bad that looks? Like, our mayor does enough of that.”

“How are you doing that?” He demanded, grabbing her by the arm and pulling her to the side. Though his grip wasn’t tight –he didn’t want to hurt her.

“Doing what?” 

“Can you read my mind?” He demanded again, glaring down at her.

“I mean…,” she dragged out the phrase, making a ‘maybe’ sort of motion with her hands. “Listen, I told you I knew what you were thinking. But that’s not all I can do –and I can use it to help you.”

“Why on earth would you want to use your superpowers to help me run for Congress?”

“Because I actually think you can do good for Brooklyn,” she insisted, and Bucky swore that she was being genuine. “I am being genuine, sir. I care about my city. And I do think you can do a lot more than most can. But you need a public relations specialist and I am really good at my job. Theoretically, at least.”

“Theoretically?” He asked, frowning deeply.

“I mean, you would be my first client because I finished my Master’s like right before the Blip then disappeared technically, but I know I can be really good at my job if you just give me a chance. Please. I’ll even do it for free!”

“I’m not –you’re not doing it for free. I’ll pay you –,”

“Yes!” 

Present Day –D.C.

“Any word on our friend?” Bucky asks, glancing at his PR specialist slash assistant slash…well, everything, really. 

He isn’t sure how to describe the young woman who stood next to him, because she’s a jack of all trades at this point in his very short Congressional career. She started off managing his social media and helping his public image before the election. Bucky had to give credit where credit was due: the girl is good at her job. Her speech writing skills are solid. She keeps his message and support consistent. She even managed to get him less stiff and weird on camera. She keeps him on schedule and pushes him through things he doesn’t want to do, with both a smile and a snarky comment that lightens his frustrations. 

Her abilities came in handy quite a bit in these tasks. Between reading the minds of the people around her –knowing what they wanted, how they felt –and being able to project positive thoughts into a crowd…well, Bucky is glad she was so persistent six months ago.

But then she had a run-in with one of his opponents supporters, showing up to work disheveled and frustrated.

“It’s nothing,” she had insisted, “Just some asshole who thinks I’m a monster for helping you.”

Bucky decided that he could teach her a few things too.

She was a fast learner, and a willing student. If she got knocked down, she got up again and immediately sought feedback and improvement. While she’s no super soldier, she is able to hold her own if she needs to —after a few months. Bucky taught her how to handle a weapon or two, she taught him how to use Twitter and TikTok (which he hated, but damn did it help his numbers). It’s a good partnership.

The latest lesson is a bit of espionage –nothing super intense. Bucky is working on how to get Valentina Alegra de Fontaine impeached –and while his assistant was a great asset in confirming that Valentina was, in fact, guilty…well, the public doesn’t know he has a mutant in his employment. And while Bucky has no issue telling anyone, she does –and it isn’t his secret to tell.

“None of my family knows,” she explained over a beer one night after another charity gala. “I don’t…It’s not something I need anyone to know. I already know what everyone thinks; I don’t need them to start thinking specifically about me too. I don’t think I could handle it.”

“Her assistant –her name is Mel –is on the fence about her boss,” she explains, clicking away at her phone as she sends him over her notes. “I tried talking to her but she pretty much immediately beelined for the door when I got closer.”

“Who's the unapproachable one now?” He jokes, grinning down at her as he grabs a champagne glass for both of them. 

She snorts in response, taking a sip of the bubbly he hands her. “Still you, sir.”

“Fair enough,” he agrees, nodding some as he looks around the room. “Anything else?”

“She’s getting rid of any and all evidence of O.X.E and something called Project Sentry,” she continues, though she’s hiding her lips behind her glass. “I couldn’t figure out what that was –I’m sure something ratchet.”

“Ratchet?” He asks, frowning deeply.

“Terrible,” she offers. 

Her and her millennial slang. He couldn’t understand it half the time.

“I’ll try to get closer –,”

“Don’t,” he interrupts, stepping in front of her. “Cool it for the night. I have some angles that I can work with; I need you to do what you do best now.”

“Get people to think you’re not a weird old man from the forties?”

“...yes.”

“Can do, sir.” She salutes him, grinning up at him. 

Bucky shoos her away, shaking his head, then heads off to locate Congressman Gary about his findings.

*****

She sees coordinates.

She knows she promised Bucky she wouldn’t get closer to Valentina, but she never promised she wouldn’t pay attention to Mel.

“I know you’re avoiding me,” she comments as she slips behind Mel with a polite smile and glass of champagne. “I don’t know why. I thought we were like…I don’t know, two peas in a pod. Assistants to weirdly powerful people –,”

“Oh, I’m not –,” Mel starts but bites her tongue. “I’m not avoiding you. Just super busy. You know, being an assistant to a weirdly powerful person.”

She nods, sipping her drink thoughtfully. But Mel is focused on her tablet again, and the coordinates are flashing in her mind as she looks at a name –John Walker. U.S. Agent. Dime store Captain America. She makes a face behind her glass, unable to help it. 

The same coordinates flash again, indicating that Walker was being sent somewhere to get rid of someone named Belova in Utah. 

She hums as she jots down the coordinates in her phone, fully intending to send them to Bucky.

“Well, well –finally, I get the pleasure of meeting the little girl who’s made our junior congressman remotely functional,” Valentina announces from behind, catching her off guard. “You know, you could do a lot better.”

She smiles politely, though she wonders if it looks as forced as it feels. “I don’t think I could, but I appreciate the sentiment.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Valentina hums, bumping shoulders with Mel, who looks painfully uncomfortable. Her thoughts are loud. What is she doing? She literally told me not to talk to this girl. Why is she talking to her? What’s her angle? Is she trying to fire me? Do I want to be fired?? “Could work with us –I bet your skills would do wonders.”

She narrows her eyes at the inflection –at the implication –in Valentina’s tone. “I think you have an excellent assistant already, Ms. de Fontaine –,”

“Oh, I don’t need another assistant. Mel is perfect,” though her tone sounds…alarmingly poisonous. “You, though…you could be so much more than just Bucky Barnes’ pretty assistant.”

“I am more than that, ma’am,” she argues, narrowing her eyes. 

“I think you have the potential to be a hero,” Valentina continues, ignoring her. “Think about what you could do with those powers of yours.”

“I don’t –,”

“Oh please,” the director of the CIA interrupts. “Number one, it’s obvious that you can read minds. You know way too much and have almost no contacts in D.C. Just because everyone else in this room is oblivious doesn’t mean I am. Number two, you have an actual talent –something that can literally calm down the worst of the worst without even touching them. Think about what you could do with that.”

She opens her mouth to say something, but stops herself. Valentina is manipulating her. She knows that the director is. It’s obvious, and Valentina isn’t even trying to hide it.

“I’m making an impact here,” she says, though she’s not half as confident as she was before. 

“Are you, though?”

“More so than a woman experimenting on humans and destroying the evidence.”

Valentina laughs –well, snorts really, because her laugh is not from amusement. “Shit, you know. I thought I could get you. That’s unfortunate. Now you’re just a liability.”

Her brow furrows and as she’s about to call out –for Bucky, for someone –there’s a high pitched screeching in her ears and everything goes fuzzy. She curses out loud as Valentina calls for help –as someone helps her up and leads her away. She can’t hear what’s going on –she can’t see what’s being presented to the crowd. But through blurry eyes, she can see Bucky trying to make his way through the crowd. 

She’s blacked out before she knows if he’s going to help her.

*****

Her head hurts.

That’s all she can focus on.

There’s a dull ache in her skull like someone took a screwdriver and tried to scramble her brain through her ears. 

The pain, however, is overcome by the sound of gunshots echoing in an empty room.

She rolls over, bumping into a crate or something, and tries to push herself onto her knees. There’s yelling and gunshots and she’s barely able to think let alone move. But she manages to get herself sitting up, eyes screwed tight as she presses her head into the crate behind her. She needs to get her bearings. She needs to figure out where she is and she needs to call Bucky because she fucked up and now she’s probably in danger and –

“It’s getting kind of tense out there,” a voice whispers –trembling, soft. 

But she’s not expecting anyone to be so close to her and she screams out, throwing herself away from him. 

The gunshots stop, and there’s a silence for a moment as the weapons shift towards her and this man she doesn’t recognize. Though, she’s certain that even if she could see properly without feeling like her brain was bleeding, she wouldn’t know who he is.

“And who are you?” Someone asks, and she can hear footsteps coming closer. 

She tries to mask herself –hide from whatever is probably going to kill her –but the moment she even considers her powers –there’s another violent jolt down her spine and she cries out in pain.

“Oh,” the man above her says, putting his hands up. “I’m –I’m uh, Bob. I don’t –well, I don’t know who she is –,”

“Don’t involve me in this,” she hisses as he points to her, though she looks up as John Walker peers down at her. She glares at him through squinted, bloodshot eyes. 

“Aren’t you…Bucky’s assistant?” He asks, holstering his gun.

She nods once, swallowing hard. “Yeah…yeah, I am.”

“How the hell did you both get in here?” the Russian asks.

“I don’t remember,” Bob admits, still trembling some as he looks down at her on the floor. “I found her like that –,”

“I think I was kidnapped,” she explains as Walker offers her a hand to stand. She slaps it away and slowly pushes herself up. “Fucking Valentina –,”

“So just to confirm,” the Russian begins. “Valentina sent…all of us here, to kill each other. Plus two civilians?”

“I think she sent me here to get killed,” she offers, leaning against the crate to hold her up. “I, uh, can read minds and shit.”

“Ah, okay. Liability,” the Russian confirms, as if it was obvious. “Doesn’t explain Bob though.”

“Wait, you guys were sent?” He asks, and she’s taking a breath and finally finds herself focusing a little better.

She glances at Bob now, taking a moment to finally look at him. He’s in scrubs, disheveled and confused. She, probably inappropriate for the moment, thinks he would be kind of cute if he was a little more cleaned up. Or least not in scrubs. 

There’s not a chance in hell she can read his thoughts –her brain is still a mess. She tries to focus her gaze, blinking away the fuzziness that had overwhelmed her. Things were getting clearer; their thoughts —though still fragmented and scrambled like a TV without signal —were finally breaking through. He’s standing there barefoot and it's hard to believe that he wasn’t just…here already. He seems too confused to have snuck in, and more importantly too scrambled.

“I don’t think it matters, really,” she finally says, standing up straight. “We need to get out because Valentina is absolutely trying to kill all of us.”

“Okay, these two —yeah, I get it,” Walker argues, motioning to the Russian —Yelena— and the other woman —Ava —she’s gathered. “But I’m a decorated war vet. I was Captain America —,”

Bob suddenly laughs, and the sound feels almost unnerving in the situation they’re in. She turns to him, his fragmented thoughts loud and…and scary.

Walker isn’t amused. “What’s so funny, Bobby?”

Some thought —or maybe emotion —flares up in Bob but he just laughs uncomfortably again. 

“You keep saying you’re Captain America,” he explains, wringing his hands. 

“And why is that funny?” Walker presses and his thoughts are getting louder now too. 

“It’s just…you’re an asshole.”

For a moment, there’s silence. Walker looks mortified and angry. Yelena is clearly holding back her laughter while Ava is more focused on getting the hell out. But Bob is laughing —boyish, timid, and dare she admit it, kind of cute. And she can’t help but laugh now too. 

“Oh, god. He’s got such a point. God bless you, Bob, thank you so much for seeing things clearly,” she agrees, putting a hand on Bob’s shoulder. “Walker’s literally the worst.”

There’s a moment. The room shifts, like how it shifts when she uses her powers. But it’s darker, and she’s familiar with her room she’s standing in. It doesn’t last though. As she’s trying to figure out where she is, it shifts back. 

And suddenly she’s back in the vault, hand on his shoulder, and everyone staring at her like she’s lost her goddamn mind. Maybe she has, because she’s worried she’s accidentally lost control. And that’s never happened before. She’s usually in far more control —but she chalks it up to anxiety and shakes herself out of it. She didn’t mean to do it; it wasn’t on purpose. Bob does seem a bit put out by it though; blue eyes wide as he stares at her like he’s done something wrong. 

“Sorry, I —,” he starts, but an alarm goes off, interrupting her thoughts and she drops her hand from Bob’s shoulder. 

“We need to get out of here,” Yelena states, pointing to the clock on the wall. “We find the console that controls the barrier, Ava can get through and open it from the other side. Once we’re out, we split up, we find an exit. Walker, keep assistant girl and Bob alive.”

There’s arguing, and their thoughts are getting louder as she’s finally coming into focus again. She wants to argue and remind them what her name is but it seems redundant at this point, given she’s probably going to die. 

Oh. Oh god. She’s actually going to die. She’s actually enough of a liability that someone wants her dead and she’s going to die in a vault underground, with a bunch of assholes and some guy named Bob. Her hand grabbed at her chest, trying to ease that panic as she fell against another crate, sitting down and breathing hard. 

“I’m going to die because I’m too good at my job,” she mumbles to herself. “God, what the fuck?”

“You’re not going to die,” Walker insists as Yelena shouts out in discovery. Walker turns his attention to the Russian, hurrying over to smash the controls in with his shield. 

“We might die,” Bob offers, as if that was reassuring. He sits beside her, hands in his lap as he picks at the skin around his nails. “It’s fine, I think.”

Another yell of triumph and they both watch as Ava phased through the walls, finding an escape. If she wasn’t so scared of death, she would have been wholly impressed. Bob patted her shoulder awkwardly —though she pulled away. 

“Don’t —I don’t want to accidentally make you see my thoughts,” she explains, frowning deeply as he drops his hand. “I appreciate the thought, Bob. I just —I don’t want to freak you out.”

“Oh,” though he doesn’t really seem to understand what she means. 

“Come on!” Walker suddenly screams, hitting the door. “Where the hell is she!”

The two civilians stand, moving to stand behind Yelena and Walker. The timer is counting down and the thoughts around her are…alarmingly accepting of their fates. Walker and Yelena both seem to be totally fine if this is where the line ends for them. And Bob…well, his thoughts are still fragmented and confusing, but he seems just as willing to die down here as the other two. 

“Oh my god,” she whispers, covering her eyes. “You’re all suicide risks.”

[essycogany]

Sonic HATES Being Wrong

Like…to an extreme degree. Let me elaborate.

This is a very interesting detail I’ve noticed ever since I made my Sonic’s Flaws post. Here, I’d like to talk about Sonic’s most fatal flaw because this conversation gets interesting. The flaw is one every variation of Sonic can be guilty of and one that causes the most damage to his world and even the people he cares about. If you disagree, I understand. Just hear me out and even if I don’t convince you, I hope this turns out to be a fun read regardless. Feel free to give me some context, correct me, or add information if you‘d like.

The Flaw

Sonic is terribly pertinacious and stubborn. Most people would think of Sonic Prime where he doesn’t listen to his friends warning him to not destroy the paradox prism, but when I think of Prime!Sonic I don't think of that. Especially since this version comes off more as an inexperienced teenager trying to figure things out. While in the games, he’s portrayed as rarely being wrong. Not because he’s perfect, but because Sonic never feels the need to change because of past victories. After all, if everything is going his way, why should he change, right? Well, this can be a problem. The scene in S3 ep3 where a few of the pirates were lost at sea, shows how truly stubborn Prime!Sonic (and Sonic in general), can be. He verbally refuses to take accountability for lost resources and unknowingly helps Nine have better predominance over them.

In this scene, No Place was decaying and Sonic finds out that the other pirate crew was stuck there. Everyone else, even the villains, reasonably says it’s too risky and he ignores them. Of course, he is within reason but if things went sour, it would’ve been his fault. Especially since that almost became a reality before the Chaos Council swooped in to help.

Near the end of the episode, Sonic says it’s a win for everyone, but Mr. Doc says, “Was it? Your little friends are safe, but at what cost? The fox can conjure up more minions with the snap of his fingers. Whereas our fleet is damaged, our troops are spent, and we’re almost out of time.” Surprisingly reasonable call out of the consequences of saving the pirates, if they don’t have enough resources, they were even more screwed than before. Then Sonic says, “I’m sorry but losing anyone is not an option.” While it’s warranted and makes sense for his character, it almost comes across as “We had to save them because I said so.” This is an example of Sonic not having a good argument by addressing the results of their battle. He does it a lot more than you’d think. Despite Sonic not listening to people being a bigger staple of Prime, I personally think it’s never expanded upon or executed well. Not to me anyway, but I don’t mind anyone disagreeing.

In any case, Sonic, as a character in every continuity, tends to “follow by his own rules” but this can be perceived negatively as “doing whatever he wants no matter who argues with him.”

Examples

Sonic Boom Rise of Lyric tackles this too. This is probably the least serious example but still can be a problem sometimes. This is S2 Ep 19 when an Eggman robot Clone tries to break Team Sonic apart and almost succeeds too. It doesn’t have much to do with this topic but I do like how in this episode when the drama started happening, Sonic for once in his life tries to talk abohut his feelings with Tails who turned out to be Steve. I know this has nothing to do with this discussion, but I just thought it was a funny thing to point out. The one time Sonic tries to talk about his feelings, he gets the door slammed in his face. It’s so mean-spirited and stupid. I love Sonic Boom!

But yeah, Rise Of Lyric also shows how his stubbornness can end up with the world being at stake. Or in the case of this episode have your friends grow apart.

The Sonic Movies tackles his shortcomings perfectly. I think he's pretty impulsive in all 3 movies. Mixing his perniciousness doesn't create the greatest meal. He's younger, so that would be expected. This scene is the most recent example. Sonic as a character tends to live in the moment and here, Movie!Sonic is playing a huge role in this category. He’s not even trying to hear anyone out. He’s in a constant rage at this point and can’t think clearly. He wants revenge on Shadow so much he loses himself. His friends. His brothers are so loyal to still allow him to get the Master Emerald despite knowing he wants it for revenge. Sonic's so hurt, he loses himself and forgets what they originally were there for.

I'm sure if Sonic choose to let his feelings consume him, he probably wouldn’t have saved the world. Why? Let’s just say things would’ve went out of control without Shadow. Sonic dogged a big tangent bullet for having mercy on Shadow.

Yeah, Archie/Reboot Archie didn’t mess around either. I'd say it’s sometimes as tense and bit worse due to him having the biggest ego and ongoing trauma. I'm surprised he didn't go insane. Notice how harsh he is in these instances. He’s overly angry here. Luckily, he has a large group of friends to help him take things down a peg and reminds him how they have his back. Even when worst comes to worst (which is an understatement), his friends are able to get him out of that mindset and put him back in reality. Hunbel him to put it bluntly.

In a way, Sonic's flaws in the Archie comics make me think he feels so guilty that he pushes himself beyond his limits as a way to make up for his loudmouth. Like in other versions, he feels the need to take on more than he can physically handle. He strains his body, mind, and entire being to accomplish tasks on his own because he believes he deserves the punishment. Alternatively, he might just be exhausting himself and attempting to take on more than he can manage. It’s not surprising, really.

This panel is insane for letting Eggy make a valid point. You can tell by his ears how Sonic’s getting visibly irritated. By the end of the argument, he gets super mad and can’t even find a good quip to back himself up. Because in a way, he knows Eggman has a point. That’s how I interpret it anyway.

Game or IDW Sonic is usually in denial when it comes to being wrong. He doesn’t address the issues directly but the person who calls him out for it instead. He’s the most experienced Sonic. I know some people use “mature” but I think experience is a better term due to how he doesn’t have arcs or character growth like other characters. More so he’s used to this song and dance, so his hatred towards being wrong comes from a place of thinking he’s got everything under control. Until it bites him in the butt.

You notice in most of these Sonic’s pretty angry and isn’t the biggest fan of being told off. Even in different continuities, the guy cannot argue without not being self-aware most of the time. The funny thing is he isn’t doing it selfishly. At least not in a typical way. To me, Sonic is the least selfish character in the franchise for a good chunk of the series. He sacrifices himself, gives people more chances than they deserve, and even takes the time to stop his main goals if it means helping someone else. But the guy cannot take the time to admit he’s wrong or his morals have consequences. Not because Sonic thinks he’s better than everyone. I don’t think Sonic sees himself in that way, but I do think he’s always in “I’ve done this thing plenty of times. As long as this thing works, I’ll keep doing it,” mode. Or in the case of Movie!Sonic, goes on instinct which is also a common part of his characterization.

Why Sonic Has This Flaw

Sonic never stops running; he charges head-first into any situation, always striving to do what's right. After all, he's the fastest thing alive. Sonic doesn't have the luxury of questioning himself or dwelling on doubts. While it's true that he has caused some issues, including in the games, he doesn't waste time feeling sorry for himself. The only times he's shown insecurity were during the Metal Virus arc, so interpret that as you wish.

This brings up another point. Crazy how much I didn’t notice, but most of the time, Sonic doesn’t like it when people disagree with him. Understandable, everyone doesn’t want to be wrong. But he takes it to the extreme at times. Like sometimes he's baffled when anyone challenges him. Sonic’s also never truly called out by the right people. I don’t mean Shadow, Espio, Knuckles, or the villains. I mean, Amy, Tails, Tangled, or other characters he’s inspired. People who look up to him. Sure, they try, but I can count on one hand how many times he actually listens. Sonic’s always so caught up in doing things his way that he disregards people who mean the most to him.

I mentioned this in my other post but he doesn't listen to Tails in Sonic 06 or Lost World, so the games count.

While Sonic often has valid points in his arguments with others, he frequently comes across as someone who needs to be right. He rarely allows others the opportunity to express their views or admits when he is wrong. This issue is often overlooked in stories where these conflicts arise, either because there isn't enough time to address them or they remain unanswered altogether. This makes sense, considering that Sonic typically doesn’t undergo character arcs canonically. However, I appreciate the presence of characters like Shadow, Knuckles, Surge, Kit, and certain Archie characters like Scurge. They serve to challenge Sonic’s morals and illustrate that he isn’t always correct. If Sonic isn’t going to evolve as a character, at least these figures can show that his sense of freedom and living by his own rules doesn’t work for everyone. They can be portrayed negatively and can challenge his viewpoints. They can be questioned. They can be challenged. Sonic isn’t always right.

His passion shows that he truly wants things to work for everyone. His stubbornness drives him to the point of frustration as he strives to help others to live according to his ideals. However, at times his approach isn’t the most effective. You can see that Sonic genuinely hates this, yet he continues to push forward to help those in need. There’s something both beautiful and heartbreaking about that.

Conclusion

What’s funny is that Sonic rarely gets angry, so you could say this could be one of his few triggers. Along with people being unjust and other such.

Overall, Sonic has good intentions but the results of those intentions are severe. None of this is to imply Sonic’s a terribly written character. It’s just a serious flaw he has. Though listening to his friends more would help.

I’d be lying if I said I wouldn’t like a moment of his friends noticing a constant pattern of him being pertinacious and not paying attention to anyone’s protest. I wouldn’t want it to come out of nowhere, but it’d be an issue that’d progress over a large amount of time and add up. It could be dramatic or constructive depending on the situation and execution. Whatever character does it, they’d either talk to him about it or physically show the outcomes of his actions. They do it all the time in other media but not canonically. This is just random speculation though. I don’t know if I’m in over my head but I hope someone got something out of this.

All of this is not to say Sonic never takes accountability or listens to his friends. SA1 scene with Amy, when he apologizes to Bell in IDW for being too standoffish, and plenty of other examples. Like the end of Sonic movie 3. That Sonic Boom episode where he apologized for not working with his team. And endless moments in Archie and Reboot Archie. Sonic isn’t unreasonable. Just 9 times out of 10 he can get a big head. That’s all.

Stay Creative! 💜

[honeyyhivee]

i put spell on you ⠀ྀི

⠀ྀི in which sir crocodile feels you put a spell on him ⠀ྀི

cw ⠀ྀི minors dni! reader’s a cult leader with a vampire-like devil fruit (I’m in a spooky mood), black!fem reader in mind but read as you please, explicit smut with a bit of plot, blood drinking/feeding/draining (not during, but before), unprotected p in v (wrap it up, folks!), petnames/nicknames (mistress, woman, pretty, doll), hair pulling, biting, cunnilingus, spanking, squirting, restrained by a belt

word count & thoughts ⠀ྀི 1.7k , lowercase intended, reblogs & comments are greatly appreciated ♡

“mistress, there’s a man… he’s been looking for you.”

a man in a velvet red suit with a star symbol on the right side of his blazer, symbolizing his allegiance with you. in this wide, dome like opera house, seats filled with your followers, only lighting being the only working chandelier in the middle of the stadium, big arches along the stone walls with a beautiful mural of you on the wide ceiling. you, in a long, dark, flowy dress laid on a gold, black and maroon fainting couch, exhausted by the ceremony of loyalty, swearing in a new member.

a wine glass in your hand with a deep red, smooth fluid, tasting richer and smoother than any red wine a human would drink, filling the beautifully crafted glass. your eyes peered at the man and slowly you tilted your head. “this is important to me… why?” you uttered, wiping the side of your lips, careful not to mess up your lips. “well, miss… he’s um, he’s very close. saying very personal things about you.”

your glare intensified, causing your follower to speak up his words and to speak clearly. “your grace, he’s been saying how you and him have unfinished business. not specifying what that business is and, you see, he’s getting too close.” from his words you chuckle and tut your tongue, not understanding why he was so scared. “do you think this… man could do something to harm me?”

“well- no, mistress, but-“

“so, i ask again, why is this important to me?”

“well, it’s- um… sir crocodile, the warlord of the sea.” the very name echoed throughout the opera house, turning the heads of many. “is it? sea warlord, huh…” you muttered and scanned the building for the biggest men before grinning a wide cheshire grin, fangs on both the top and bottom row of your mouth showing. “sounds tasty… you’ll do something, love?”

your voice, as smooth as butter as you demanded this warlord be brought to you, you knew exactly who this was. a man who was part of your old life.

to your surprise, the biggest, tallest and strongest men in your following that you sent out were deemed as unfit to protect you, being slain by crocodile as they tried to order him to come with them. crocodile took all of them out without a sweat, getting information from the last man alive.

through shallow, ragged breaths, the last man alive, the newest man who’d been sworn in days prior, swallowed and gave crocodile all the knowledge he had, believing croc would let him live. that belief he had was short lived, being killed swiftly afterwards by croc for his disloyalty.

as a storm passed, you grew hungrier and impatient, feeding on a follower, who’d given you the permission to, in front everyone. your fangs deep into his neck, not draining him yet, you were interrupted at the perfect moment.

the storm cleared up as yells came from the entrance of the opera house before the doors were heard slamming open against the hard walls. you took your finishing sips as loud footsteps against the polished hardwood of the flooring took your attention.

“my, my, what an interesting sight.”

a deep voice glossed your ears as you looked up and dropped the man you were draining. sharp toe shoes, a big fur coat in that dark suit, and that big, gold hook. you knew exactly who this was, blood slowly dripping from your lips that slowly turned into a grin.

you stood to your feet as he kept walking towards you, your members following him closely with their eyes, ready to protect you if need be. finally, he got to the bottom of the stage, as you peered down at him, his dark eyes slowly making their way up to yours, simply mesmerized by being in your presence.

having your very eyes maintaining contact with his own set his soul on fire, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel the same way. “woman, you set those weak men to come grab me?”

you went to your knees, leveling with him with the smirk that hadn’t left your face since you got your eyes on him. “i wasn’t gonna get you myself. if you wanted me, you would’ve come regardless and look at ya’… here… in front of me.”

you held your hand out to him, allowing him to press a soft kiss on it before helping you down the steps. your breath hitched at his big, tall stature, praying no one could see it in your face as you walked him to a small office in the front of the opera house. the simple aroma that came from his clothing brought you back, years back, he was and will continue to be the only man who’s been able to satisfy you in every single way.

“i heard you were searching for me… askin’ around.” he chuckled, shaking his head not even being able to deny the claim. “got some business to handle… that’s what i was told… what business, baby? missed me?”

he did miss you, he missed your touch, your smell, your suave tone of voice, and, god, did he miss the way you’d look up at him with hungry eyes. so, when you slowly made your way up behind him, circling him until you were able to face you, then batting your pretty lashes at him, he couldn’t hold back.

the “business” being the craving he had for you that couldn’t be satisfied by anyone else besides you. his hand softly gripped the back of your head, pulling at your hair softly but firmly with his other arm wrapped around your body. you grinned a little before giving him a quick kiss.

“if i… i don’t wanna hurt you again.” you muttered against his lips. “what fun would that be, doll?” this time he went deeper, the two of you moving to the nearest surface. the papers, the money, the flowers, the offerings given to you by followers all on the ground with you bent over this dark wood desk with the beautiful engravings on the sides of it.

crocodile wanted to get everything he had desired, pulling your arch to force your arch more and feeling on your ass. “missed you.”

“i can tell-“ interrupting your words with a spank, causing you to squeal. that’s exactly what he needed, his hard, large hands slapping your ass once again just to hear that sound come out of you.

only time he’d ever go on his knees would be for you, having you with your legs spread open in front of his face. he was looking at his meal, drooling at the sight of your cunt, dripping and aching for him. eyes rolling back as he began to savor your taste without warning, lapping from your pussy to your ass, you just gripped at what you could, biting your bottom lip.

both his big hands spreading your cheeks so he could further admire his pretty little baby, a choked out moan left your lips feeling his tongue shove itself deep between your folds. crocodile loved those sounds, putting him at such peace as he massaged the spots he spanked, his erection throbbing more and more as he continued to eat you.

“fuck- wait-“ your pleases fell upon deaf ears, with him lost in it and you on the verge of tears feeling your release washing upon you hard as you made a mess on his tongue, squirting onto his mouth and face. he stood up, quickly getting his coat and vest off, rushing to get his belt off as he watched your body shake and your pussy drip onto the floor.

“arms to the back, pretty.” hazily you did as he demanded, feeling your arms be restrained by his belt as he tightened it around your wrists, being sure that they weren’t hurting you. you laid your head to the right side, watching as he took his cock out of his pants.

“take a deep breath.” was his only warning before pushing his thick tip, that leaked pre-cum, into you, stretching you out in a way that you only dreamed about.

letting you take another inhale before slowly shoving himself into your cunt, savoring every second of it with a small hiss from his lips. you clenched around his thickness as he gently pumped himself into you, he was a gentleman after all, needed to savor his craving completely. up until you whimpered his name, trying to hold back was no longer easy to do. not when you were begging for more of him.

his grip on the belt tightened as he began to fuck himself into you, grumbling under his breath for you to hold still. you couldn’t hear him though, you were too busy moaning and drowning in the feeling of him hitting your spot each time he thrusted into you.

you just kept squirming with your eyes rolled to the back of your head, he had to fix it himself, pulling you up by the belt restraining you, with his cock still rutting into you, your back arched away from his body with his free arm around your neck, catching you in a small chokehold.

“told you to sit still, now look at you.” you whined before gripping the arm he held you in a chokehold with, biting down into his forearm. he winced a little before continuing to work open your pussy.

you had not been touched this good, since the last time you saw him. tried to replicate the feeling but nothing worked. no one was him, nothing could compare to him, and it was better now, he’d grown bigger and effortlessly hit the spot that made you see stars and feel the kind of ecstasy that nothing, no one besides him, could awaken in you.

with the squelching of your wetness, the slaps of his skin against yours, and the cries coming from your lips, crocodile found the bliss he would’ve done anything to find, like you put a spell on him to make sure he’d never be able to feel this way with anyone.

no matter if he came inside off you, no matter how many times your orgasms hit, you both wouldn’t stop. had to make up for all the time you were apart.

© honeyyhivee (2024)

don’t use or steal my work, thanks!

[caplanbuckybarnes]

WHERE'S THE PIE?

Summary: you make Dean a pie and he goes absolutely bananas over it.

Warnings: humor, dean being ridiculous over pie

WC: 915

Read on ao3!

A/N: title submitted to me from @sweater-daddiesdumbdork sometime back in March and I've just now remembered to post it... OOPS!

It was a quiet evening at the bunker. The lights were low, and the hum of the fridge was the only sound breaking the stillness. You were sitting on the couch, trying to focus on the book in your hands, but your mind kept wandering. There was something that had been nagging at you for hours.

Dean Winchester’s love of pie.

Specifically, the pie you had promised to make him for weeks now.

He had mentioned it just once—well, maybe a dozen times—but that didn’t matter. Dean was like a kid when it came to pie. Cherry, apple, blueberry, any kind. He didn’t care. As long as there was pie, everything in his world was right.

You had been putting it off for a while, but now that you finally had a chance to bake, you figured it was time to deliver.

The problem? You had no idea where he’d gone.

You’d been in the kitchen, mixing ingredients and carefully arranging the pie crust when you turned around and realized… he was gone.

It was fine. You finished the pie, placed it on the cooling rack, and then headed off to search for the one thing that would make Dean’s evening.

You found him eventually, walking through the halls of the bunker, whistling a tune you didn’t recognize. When he saw you, his eyes immediately lit up.

“Hey, there you are! Got a new case?” he asked, completely oblivious to your mission.

“Not exactly,” you said, trying to keep your tone casual. “But I did make something else for you.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Oh?” he said, his voice already starting to pitch higher with excitement. “What’d you make me? More of that casserole you keep pretending is food?”

You rolled your eyes. “No, not that.” You leaned in slightly, lowering your voice for effect. “I made you pie.”

Dean’s face froze, and then the corners of his mouth twitched. “Pie?” he echoed, as if he couldn’t quite believe it.

“Yup,” you said, gesturing toward the kitchen. “Come on, it’s cooling right now. I’ll slice you a piece.”

He blinked, his eyes wide. “Wait. Wait. You—” He paused dramatically, his gaze scanning the hallway like he was searching for something. “Where’s the pie?”

You blinked in confusion. “What do you mean, where’s the pie? It’s in the kitchen, cooling.”

“No, no, no,” Dean said, eyes wide with sudden realization. “I mean, where is it, really? The real pie. The one that you made for me.”

You furrowed your brow, unsure what he was going on about. “I’m not following. The pie is in the kitchen—”

Dean cut you off with a shake of his head. “No, no. That’s what you say. But where really is the pie?”

You narrowed your eyes. “Dean, what are you talking about?”

“Where’s the pie?” he repeated, his voice deadpan. “I’ve been looking all over for it. You promised me pie, and I need to know where it is. This is an emergency. A pie emergency!”

Your jaw dropped as you realized just how serious he was. You stared at him for a second, then burst out laughing.

“Oh my God, Dean!” you said, shaking your head. “You’re serious?”

He gave you a look of intense, desperate concern. “I’m very serious. Where. Is. The. Pie?”

You wiped a tear from the corner of your eye, trying to contain your laughter. “Okay, okay. It’s in the kitchen, right where I left it. You seriously thought I was going to hide the pie from you?”

Dean looked at you like you had just spoken the words of an ancient prophecy. “I don’t know, man. You are sneaky. I wouldn’t put it past you to pull a fast one like that.”

“I’m not sneaky,” you said, still giggling. “I’m just smart.”

“Smart, huh?” He crossed his arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow. “Then tell me why I don’t smell that pie from here? Why is it so quiet? Why does this feel like a trap?”

You blinked at him, confused. “Are you asking me to just... show you the pie, then?”

“Yes,” he said, his voice growing increasingly desperate. “I need to see it. Smell it. Taste it. I need to know it’s real, [Y/N]. Please.”

You shook your head, amused by how seriously he was taking this. “Fine. You want the pie so badly? Come and get it.”

Dean’s eyes practically glowed as you led him to the kitchen. He all but sprinted ahead of you, rounding the corner into the kitchen like a man possessed. His eyes locked onto the pie sitting on the counter, perfectly golden-brown and freshly made.

“There it is,” he breathed, stepping toward it with reverence. “The holy grail of all pies.”

You leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching him as he practically drooled over the pie. “I told you, it’s real.”

“I have no words,” he muttered, his voice thick with admiration. “This is... beyond words.”

You grinned. “So, what’s your verdict? Should I be expecting a standing ovation?”

Dean’s grin was wide and mischievous as he finally cut a slice. “You bet I’ll be applauding—just as soon as I’m done devouring this masterpiece.”

You laughed as he dug in, delighting in his dramatic display of joy with every bite.

“You’re lucky I love you, Winchester,” you said, shaking your head in disbelief.

Dean took another bite, grinning through a mouthful. “Hey, when it comes to pie... anything’s possible.”

[skywalkoverme]

𝐓𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

a/n: Who doesn't want head from a shirtless man? Mwah!

𐙚 James Kelly x Fem! Reader 𐙚 18+ MDNI

Summary: You spend your afternoon with the landscaper.

Warnings/contains: dom! male, sub! fem, outside sex, oral sex (fem recieving), overstimulation, nipple play, marking, landscaper au, alcohol consumption, proof read-- but english is not my first language!

Word Count: 3k // More on my Master list! + follow & reblog pls

“Kelly!” James groaned by the end of his truck bed, glaring up at the porch his irritating client. He gave him a nod of acknowledgment, his way of telling him to talk. “Be sure to trim the grass around the pool this time!” The stubby man called out before turning into the large house.

James squinted from the bright sun and pushed a baseball cap over his dark hair. The front lawn alone was over two acres--- for sure, he’d be here all day but at least he was getting paid. The man started by trimming the hedges on the side of the house, working his way around the back and back towards the front.

Something out the corner of his eye caught his attention as he rounded the house. By the pool, you tanned on a recliner; sunglasses on your face, and a pink- turquois bikini on your hips and breasts.

James had never seen you before when he did his bi-monthly mows. He squinted; his attention fully captured by the woman. Were you the wife of the home? You looked far too young to be married to that old man but anything’s possible.

With every pass on the lawn, he turned his head your way, a certain curiosity in his glare. From beneath the brim of his hat, his blue eyes followed your every movement. You reached for a glass of some drink, likely alcoholic and tossed your hair to the side. “…shit!” He pulled the lawnmower from near the fruit trees. ‘That was close.’ If there was one thing this family was passionate about, it was their fruit trees. Why? He couldn’t tell, but your father would tell him to mow around it, leaving tall grass around the barks.

Upon hearing the sputtering of the mower, you shifted the headphones off your ear and rose on your ass, “You alright?”

“Y- yes, Ma’am!” Your tan looked nice. More than just ‘nice’, you looked sun kissed, sun fucked. Maybe the season of Summer was in love with you. Even the warm colors of your pink and turquois swimsuit seemed to compliment you perfectly. He waved rather shyly, your already big hair seemed to get bigger as the day went on.

“Alright…” You waved back to him and went back to your position. “Odd guy.” You turned up your music and he continued to mow the lawn. James was working hard, trying to ignore the sight of you laying out in the sun just a few feet away from him. His eyes keep being drawn towards your form, but he tries to stay focused on mowing the lawn. Occasionally, he'd steal a glance in your direction, his gaze lingering for just a moment longer than necessary. “Do you need something?” You called in his direction.

He shut off the lawnmower, James snapped out of his thoughts, quickly looking over at your reclined figure. He quickly shook his head, trying to hide the fact that he had been staring at you. "No, I uh, I was just... making sure I didn't miss a spot mowing the lawn." He averted his gaze back to the lawn in front of him, but his eyes kept darting back in your direction every few seconds.

“You should get a bigger lawnmower.”  You pinned up your hair and smiled. “The big ‘ol ones you can sit in.”

James chuckled softly, nodding in agreement as he continued to mow the lawn. He was glad for the distraction, any excuse to hear your voice, "You're right. This lawn is big, but I don't mind the work. Precision is important.”

“I suppose you care about your job.” He glanced over at you again, his eyes roaming over your form once more before he could stop himself. Damn, you looked good laying there in the sun. When you took off your sunglasses, he lost his breath. Those soft tan lines on your brown skin made him drool. Your eyes are big, nearly doe-like; long eyelashes caught his attention from the short distance.

“Y- yeah, I love my job.” He said nearly breathlessly.

“Alright…cool.” You nodded with a small smile.

“Cool.” He repeated.

You laughed, ‘He’s awkward, very awkward.’ “You’ll be here all day, I suppose.” You looked over at the tennis court and garden. “Got your work cut out for you.”

James nodded and held the back of his sweaty neck as he kept stealing glances at you. You looked incredible, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to keep his eyes off you. "Yeah, I'll be here for a while. Gotta make sure I get every spot." He shyly tried to keep his focus on the task at hand, but his mind kept wandering back to you and your curves. ‘Mow the damn lawn, James! It’s a mindless task!’ He desperately wanted to come over and talk more with you, but he didn't want to make things awkward.

James watched you walk away. He sighed, trying to ignore the disappointment he felt as you disappeared inside. He went back to mowing the lawn, trying to keep his mind occupied with the task at hand. But no matter how hard he tried, his thoughts kept returning to you and the way you looked in that bikini.

From the indoor bar, you shook yourself another drink. As you poured the mix into your glass, you watched him from the window. James was getting hot underneath the sun, so he decided to take off his shirt as he kept mowing. He didn't notice you watching from inside, his focus on the task at hand. His jeans hung low on his hips, revealing his toned abs and the edge of his boxers.

You reached for your glass and missed the edge, making the glass fall onto the ceramic tile. “Shit!”

James heard the sound of glass shattering and immediately looked over towards the house. He put down the mower and quickly made his way over to the patio doors to see if everything was okay. "Everything alright in there? I heard a glass break..."

“U- uhm,” You raised your gaze, “I- it’s fine. Just clumsy.”

“I’ll help you clean.” He kneeled beside the mess in his jeans and boots, his abs glistened with sweat as he cleaned the liquid up with a rag first then swept up the glass. His eyes avoided your swimsuit clad body; he attempted to maintain his composer as you leaned back on the counter, but God knows you were making it difficult.

“Thank you for helping me…”

When James was done, he stood up and looked around the bar area to avoid your eyeline. “It was nothin’, Miss.” His heart was racing being this close to you, he cleared his throat. “Do you need anything else?”

“That’s all I can think of.”

He nodded, slightly disappointed that he no longer had an excuse to be in the enclosed space with you. He scratched the side of his head and adjusted the cap on his head, “I’ll uhm, head outside then.”

“Do you,” You turned back to the bar top, “want something to drink before you go?”

He took his cap off and turned to you, “A drink? Sure. Anything is fine.” You smiled. He leaned against the bar top, watching as you began to make a drink. He couldn’t help but admire the way the strings of your bikini sat on your hips, hugging you like skin. When you mixed the drink inside of the cocktail shaker, he avoided the sight of your tits while they shook.

You poured the mix into two glasses, and tossed a twisted orange peel inside, careful not to drop or spill it. James accepted the drink as you stood close to him, sipping from your cocktail as well. His hand shook as he began to sip, “Thanks for the drink…really, it tastes amazing.”

You placed your hand on your hip, “Thanks. I was a bartender for a year.”

His eyebrows raised, “That makes a lot of sense.” His gaze travelled around the home, “Guessing it wasn’t for the money.”

You shook your head with a laugh, “No. I am simply intrigued by mixology.” He followed your sips as to not outdrink you.

“Is that your…uh, husband?” He pointed to a photograph of you with your father.

“No. That’s my daddy.” You said proudly. Part of him was relieved to hear that. “You look like a deer in headlights.”

James chuckled and couldn’t help but feel rather mischievous, having you alone and so close to him. “I could say the same thing.” He said softly due to the proximity of your body to his.

“A tall, sweaty man, who happens to be shirtless just complimented my mixing skills.” You said happily. You smelled like coconuts, and vanilla orchids, so close he could smell it in your hair, on your skin. He found you adorable, yet so hot; too hot for him to stand---

“I- I need to get back to work, Miss.” He finished his drink in a single gulp and excused himself. Just like that, he was back mowing the lawn.

“W- wait.”

James stopped in his tracks and turned towards you. He was surprised you went out of your way to stop him; his heart began to race, “Yes, Miss?” You ran your eyes down his tattoos---

‘Dad will kill me if I fuck the landscaper.’ “Uhm…never mind. I’m sorry.”

He squinted one eye under his cap brim, “No need to be sorry, Miss. Speak your mind.” He insisted.

“I like your tattoos.” You walked towards him on the freshly cut grass.

James’ smile widened at your admission, feeling rather prideful. He stepped closer to you until you stood in his casted shadow, “Which one’s your favorite?” He asked and extended his arms towards you. From the crook of his arm, you traced your finger down his arm until you reached his knuckles.

“This one.” You drew your hand back. A shiver ran down his spine as you touched his skin unexpectedly, your hand felt soft and warm to the touch. “I’ll let you work.” You tossed your hair and went back to your recliner.

He smirked. “Alright, Miss.” James watched as you walked away, his eyes following the sway of your hips as you moved. He let out a slow breath, trying to calm his racing heart as he went back to mowing the lawn. But his mind kept wandering back to you, and the way you had touched him.

James was mowing the lawn, his mind consumed by thoughts of you. He glanced over at you, lounging on the recliner, and his imagination took over. He pictured himself kneeling between your legs, his body pressed against yours as he took you right there on the recliner.

By the time he was finished by the tennis courts and majority of the lawn, you were in the shade of the trees by the pool, watching him from the distance. James noticed you watching him as he worked, your gaze making him feel both excited and self-conscious at the same time. He continued to mow the lawn, trying to focus on the task at hand instead of the fantasies playing out in his mind. He wondered what you were thinking, if you wanted him too. Never had he felt so nervous in front of a woman and all you did was stare.

You wished he would come to you already; you wished he would stop stalling with his lawnmower and eat your pussy!

James felt the same way. He wanted to abandon the lawn mower and come over to you, but he didn't know how you would react. He was torn between his desire for you and his fear of being rejected. stood there for a moment, debating with himself whether to approach you or not.

His heart was pounding against his chest as he approached you, his eyes admired your gorgeous face in the shade of the trees. “Do you mind if I sit with you, Miss?” a toothpick rest between his lips.

“I don’t mind.” He sat beside you, so close he could feel your body heat and you were consumed by the feeling of his. His cheeks flushed as he continued to ogle you, his eyes on your tanned cleavage. This was going to be impossible.

“I don’t mean to stare.”

You couldn’t help but take a few respectful glances at his abs as sweat ran down his pecks. “It’s not a crime.” He agreed, his gaze lingered on your curves. “Do you have something you want to ask me?”

He looked you straight in the eyes, “Yes, Miss.” He took the toothpick from his mouth and removed his hat. “I know you likely have many men askin’ you but…I would like to take you out some time. I know it’s inappropriate to ask in this…unique situation.” He looked across your body, “but are you interested in that?”

“I am.” He smiled excitedly. “Do you eat pussy?”

He wasn't expecting you to be so forward, but at the same time he was thrilled by it. "Uh...yeah. Yeah, I do. Why do you ask?”

“Some men like you are too proud to go down on a woman.” You follow him with your eyes as he kneeled.

He nodded. “Yeah, yeah, that’s true but not me. I love any opportunity to go down on a woman. Especially if it’s from you. I mean, if you gave me the chance.” He took your wrist into his hand and ran his fingers up until his hand enveloped your palm in his. He kissed your wrist as you tried to get a read on him. “You don’t trust my skills?”

“I just find it hard to believe…but you are welcome to prove me wrong.” You said with a sly smirk, your legs spread.

Upon seeing you spread yourself for him, James’ lips pressed his lips on your neck. His hold on your hips was firm as he hovered over you. He suckled on your skin until he could see each visible mark. It ached for him leave his marks, but it felt so nice. Aggressive but tender. Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer until his skin pressed against yours. He smelled like sweet grass and sweat as you breathed him in.

His hands began to explore the curves and contours of your body, his lips lingered near your bikini top. He worked his way to your nipples, delightfully overwhelmed with the two. Your hand ran down his neck and spine as he suckled on your nipple. “M- mhh!” You moaned as the cool breeze bit your skin as did he, gently taking your skin between his teeth.

He caressed your back and drew your thigh up. Your eyebrows wrinkled as his curious fingers untied the sides of your bikini. “You’ve got a pretty pussy.” He whispered past your ear, kissing down your windpipe.

“Thank you,” You were overwhelmed and flustered by his whispers.

“Can I fuck your pussy with my tongue?”

“U- uhm,” He grabbed your hip and licked down your stomach to your core. Your hips weaved upward as he continued to tease you with his tongue; it ran up and down your pussy gently, not enough to make you moan. He could feel you trembling under his touch, your body pleading for more. “Yes.”

James was well versed in the ways to make a woman like you cum; His arms wrapped around your thighs and held you to his shoulders. Your hand ran through his hair as his tongue lapped over your entrance; fingers clutched as he applied pressure to your hard clitoris. You squirmed in the grip of his biceps, his lips closed tightly on your sensitive pearl. James took in the sight of you, your back arched, your eyes clouded by pleasure.

His tongue flicked against your sensitive bundle of nerves; he blew cool air onto your pussy. The shot of the sensation made you sit up; your legs shook in his clutch. He could taste your need for him from your core, and it only fueled his movements.

He began to explore inside of you with his tongue, pressing deeper into you as he sought to bring you to the brink of pleasure. He was in control, and he knew it, and he relished the feeling of you trembling beneath him. James groaned as your nectar filled his mouth; he lay between your thighs with a ravenous appetite.

As pathetic moans spilled from your lips, he held you down on the lounger. He could feel your pussy throb in his mouth, your muscles grew tense as your body rolled with pleasure. He brought you to the edge and kept you there; his movements urgent and hungry as if eating your pussy is what’s keeping him alive.

His tongue flicked against your sensitive bundle of nerves one last time, pushing you over the edge as you cry out in ecstasy. He held you there, his strong forearms wrapped around your thighs, holding you in place as you came down from your high, trembling and shaking. He could never get enough of the way you looked like this – completely undone, lost in pleasure, just for him.

a/n: I hope you liked this! I promise i'll organize my masterlist!!

More on my Master list! + follow & reblog pls

[strzxrin]

After reading Aidan lowkey yearning for the reader I need to see him go full on simp mode for the reader. Like fully obsessed and acting like an obedient dog to the reader and trying super hard to grab their attention any way they can.

Sorry I love pathetic men sm ugh if this is ooc for him can u still make him a yearner/desperate guy for the reader in his own way 👉👈

i just wanna be your favourite boy !

synopsis. ┆ for someone who is considered to be an expressive and popular person, he sure is puppy like when trying to get your attention.

tags/warnings. ┆ gn!reader, pathetic man behaviour™️, mentions of stalking, popular student x normal student trope

characters. ┆ aidan sandford ( frat . human character )

a/n. ┆ I AGREE WITH YOUR STATEMENTS NONNIE. pathetic men for the win they’re so stupid (affectionate) i love them.

masterlist ┆ character wiki

you had him wrapped around your finger and you didn’t even know why.

it was long after you came and you got paired up with him for one of your courseworks, and instead of fawning over him like everyone else, you treated him indifferently. 

everyone else in the group was somehow trying to get into his pants but you’d just ask for him to do his part and have discussions with you if there was anything that he didn’t understand.

his heart thumped for the first time when you did that. because you weren’t looking at him as if he was some ethereal being, you were looking at him as if he was a normal human being. and he is.

you were like a breath of fresh air to him, someone who didn’t care about his looks or reputation. and he found it to be addictive. with you, he felt like he could be normal, without having the pretense of being a certain image and he is happy for it.

still, this indifference of yours is rather irritating because he just wants you to look at him, not anyone else. he tried so hard to be around you, to be the person who you’d want to be with for the rest of your life.

but you simply ignored his advances, thinking that he was only doing this because you weren’t paying attention to him. and yes, that was how it was in the beginning, but it’s different now that he does know you.

you guys actually bonded with each other one night before your presentation in the cafeteria. it was almost 3 am, and he would’ve been at one of his parties but he heard that you were here and ditched it completely.

you both talked a lot that night, and you realised that he isn’t a dumb frat boy with nothing else better to do. so you got close and talked to him about your worries and stress, wondering if your presentation was going to go well, or if you’ll fuck it up.

he listened to you talk in silence, giving advice or comments when you needed it and you felt better. you felt at peace and he would smile at you every time.

still, you do get confused on why he acts this way with you.

especially when he seems to know your schedule by heart. you found it weird, but you tried not to question it because you guys are now friends and he’s a nice guy. still, he follows you around like a lost puppy and it gets annoying because his fans would be around 24/7 and it is an incredibly overstimulating experience.

“we should try not to meet up during the day” you started when you both were at the cafeteria during the night and you were doing your assignments. you wear the chair screeching and you see him looking like a kicked puppy if anything.

“why? did i do something wrong? did i touch you wrongly? did i say something out of line? i don’t want to stop hanging out with you—” “woah! calm down” you say immediately, trying to shut him up, to which he did and sat back down.

damn. now he looks like he’s a puppy with a tail in between his legs when you said that. you sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose before shaking your head. “your little fan club won’t leave you alone during the day, and it’s too overstimulating for me to be around that many people in one go” you explained to which he looked at you with a sigh of relief.

“do you want me to tell them off?” that’ll ruin his reputation, but he doesn’t care. not when your comfortability is at stake, not when the amount of times he could bask in your presence is going to be limited because of some people that he doesn’t bother remembering their names, let alone their faces.

you blinked at his statement “are you sure? i mean, yeah, that’d be nice because it’s hard to talk to you when everyone is looking at me like a piece of meat, ready to tear me down if i said something completely wrong. but still, your reputation is on the line, right?”

you care! you care so much about him, and you enjoyed talking to him! that alone was enough to lift his mood and he shrugged “don’t care. i’d rather have my reputation ruined than have to risk our hangouts only being at night.” he says simply.

you sighed at his words and went back to typing on your laptop “you’re annoying, you know that right?” “yeah, but it gets you to look at me, so that’s enough” you sighed even harder, shaking your head as he continued to accompany you while you finished up your coursework.

[shysuccubusstuff]

L&DS LI as ML from Villains Are Destinated to Die:

Content: BEWARE OF POSSIBLE SPOILERS OF THE MANHWA/NOVEL

Summary: Small ramble on the manhwa + L&DS boys and why I can see them on some of the characters of the manhwa!

Note: Can you guess that I have been reading VADD? I do have to say that I have not finished the novel, so forgive me if some info is missing/not that accurate... I wish there was a game like that irl, like, in English or something. I would like to buy some new otome games... Japanese games are always quite good in my opinion! Not like I have been able to play a lot... the one I have played is Amnesia, there's this one guy that has a slightly similar route to Caleb? Not really similar tho... I have to say that this comparison isn't all that deep, just wanted to talk a bit about them! If I didn't talk about one of the LI it's cause I don't see a clear connection between them and the other ML

Note 2: Ignore the poorly done Zayne + Caleb headers... It's been so long since I used Canvas for this kind of stuff and it SUCKS

Sylus as...

Callisto Regulus

I guess this was a pretty easy choice, I mean... First, both have red eyes and that slightly parted to the side hair. Then, we have the fact that the relationship between him and the protagonist started... rocky, to say the least. I mean, just look at the way they interact with one another. Both Sylus and Callisto have that cocky behaviour, always acting as if they always have the upper hand... That is of course until their lover arrives. Both have always been forced to remain unaffected, always looking perfect even when they are about to die. The only time they let their guard down is with their chosen one, becoming softer, almost child-like as he keeps trying to get you to frow your eyebrows.

Both are the type to try to hide the truth. The ones who always deny their own feelings in fear of being truly hurt, after all, he has always seen himself as someone who would never get on such... sentimental matters. If someone had told them they would fall in love some time later, they would have laughed at them, soon making them dissappear if they were in a less friendly mood.

I can't help but imagine Sylus in the situation of Callisto, well, not like you have to really imagine it, after all, Sylus was forced to live a similar experience, even if that time he chose to sacrifice himself, as he did have the chance. But just imagine Sylus finding out you had drank poison, not only that, but it was the same day you had chosen to wear the beautiful dress he had bought for you, together with those dashing pearls that decorated your neck and ears (not like he really paid attention to them, it was you who shined the brightest that day). And suddenly everything turns red for him, how was he supposed to stay calm as he saw you falling to the ground with blood coming out of your mouth? Gosh, he tried his best to remain calm, hugging your warm body that was starting to turn colder to the touch... Wasn't this supposed to be a happy day for you? He blamed himself for acting that way the last time you saw each other, he knew well that he was in love with you, I mean, what else could be that damn drum inside his chest each time he thought of you?

Caleb as...

Ekles Khan Delman

Caleb will always fit (in my eyes) the role of a knight, always protecting the one he loves as much as he can, even willing to sacrifice himself if that means saving you from any pain. Not only that, but wouldn't one argue that what happened to him and MC could be slightly similar to becoming a slave? Being stripped from every once of humanity because of an external force, being imposed to do whatever they tell you to do in fear of what might happen to you or the one you care about... I hope you understand my comparison. Just like Ekles, Caleb could have easily taken a much darker route, actually following the empty promises he made while in Skyhaven, all about keeping you there and building your house all over again just to keep you happy.

Caleb could have easily been the type to get you locked in some "happy" place, always reminiscing about the many precious memories the two of you shared, almost trying to use them as a kind of prison for you, you could never leave someone who has lived so many things with you, right?...

Zayne as...

Winter Verdandi

At first, I was about to compare Zayne with Derick, after all, both had that cold exterior and serious face, but let's be honest... That's probably all they have in common...

As I see it, Zayne kind of reminds me of Winter in the way they are. Just like Winter, Zayne tried his best to hide his true self, always having that stern look in his face, pretending to be someone much more serious and calm, when in reality, he can be just as warm as the sun (this is just another similarity between the two). I believe Zayne could be compared to Winter not only in how they hide themselves from the rest of the world, but also because of how they act, always trying to help the less fortunate people however they want, with Winter helping by giving out food, while Zayne helps sick people to try and recover. And contrary to some other people, none of them do it for some ill intention or the hope of gaining anything, but just a pure wish of improving the situation of the people around them.

At the same time, I would say that Zayne is the type of person who falls for kind people, the type that would help others even if they may be in a similar or worse situation, his eyes melting as he sees you helping others.

[leejenowrld]

I think you’ve mentioned before that Jeno and Jaemin have had threesomes (correct me if I’m wrong)

How does that play into their dynamic? What do they get out of it on an emotional level?

absolutely, so while it’s not canon in back to you that jeno and jaemin have had threesomes, here’s how it would play out if they had — how it affects their relationship, what they get from it emotionally, and why it both reinforces and complicates the way they relate to each other.

jeno and jaemin in a threesome context: how would it happen?

it starts at a rooftop bar — post-season, post-finals, the team is drunk and scattered, and jeno and jaemin have peeled off into their own orbit, sitting on a low couch with a bottle between them. they’re loose, golden-lit, shirts open at the collar, still high off the rush of the season and half-daring the world to keep up. and then she walks in — a girl neither of them know, tall, magnetic, mouth like a dare, and both of them clock her instantly.

“she’s mine,” jaemin says, already smug.

jeno laughs, dry. “you don’t even know her name.”

“don’t need it. i know the look.”

“she looked at me.”

“because you’re loud and keep staring at her.”

“and you’re reckless.”

they go back and forth for ten minutes, arguing in half-whispers, eyes never leaving her. eventually, she walks past. stops. looks between them. raises an eyebrow. and jeno — cool, unreadable — says, “we were just trying to decide who gets to take you home.”

she laughs. slow. curious. and says, “why not both?”

they take her back to jeno’s apartment. it’s never discussed, but there’s a silent order: jeno starts. he presses her into the mattress, hands firm on her waist, while jaemin watches from the corner chair, all sharp eyes and slow exhale. when she moans, jaemin’s already undoing his belt. jeno shifts, gives space, mouth curling into something close to indulgent. and jaemin steps in — grinning, careful, controlled chaos. they don’t touch each other. they don’t speak much. but their coordination is eerie — two halves of a rhythm built over years. one pulling her hair, the other between her legs. one in her mouth, one at her throat. every move in sync, a silent dare: keep up. it never happens again — not with her. not with anyone for a long time. but something in them changes. not desire. not jealousy. just a shared memory neither of them can unsee.

if it were to happen with back to you y/n

jeno always folds first. it’s not hesitation — it’s instinct. he falls into your rhythm before you’ve even set it, knees hitting the floor like it’s the only place that makes sense. when your fingers trace his jaw, he leans into it. when you tell him “stay still”, his breath catches and he holds it like obedience is its own kind of pleasure. you don’t need to raise your voice, don’t need to spell out what you want, jeno reads it in your body, your silence, your hands. he kisses your thigh before he kisses your mouth. he looks at you when he begs, not to manipulate, to be seen. when you slide your hand down his chest and whisper, “don’t come until I say,” he nods once and trembles under the weight of it. there’s nothing performative about how he gives himself over. he doesn’t want to impress you — he wants to please you. wants to be used and held and undone at your pace. everything about him tightens for you — jaw, fists, thighs — and when you finally let him have what he wants, it’s like reward. like your praise could split him open sweeter than any orgasm.

and jaemin watches all of it like he’s waiting for you to look back and earn his attention. he doesn’t kneel. doesn’t beg. doesn’t break until you make him. he watches how soft jeno goes for you and licks his teeth like he’s daring you to try it with him. when you turn to him, when your hand reaches out like you expect him to follow, he tilts his head and asks, “or what?” he’ll touch without being told to. kiss you deeper than you asked. fuck you slow on purpose, just to hear the catch in your voice when you stop pretending he’s not in control. he’s bratty, deliberate, impossible. but he gives you everything when you rise to meet him. when you take his dominance and twist it back, ride him with your hand on his throat and your voice in his ear saying, “watch your tone.” he laughs into your mouth, all teeth, until you grind him silent. jaemin doesn’t follow because he’s told — he follows when you prove you’re worth chasing. and when you take both of them in hand — one melting, one resisting — that’s when it hits: jeno makes you feel worshipped. jaemin makes you feel challenged. and having both of them? at once? means you never have to choose.

you’re the one on top — physically, mentally, completely — not just riding one of them, but controlling both, guiding their pace like you built them for it. jeno’s beneath you, legs trembling, hands fisting the sheets as you sink down on him with his lips parted and eyes glassy, his whole body tuned to the sound of your voice. he doesn’t move unless you do, every thrust met with that aching, breathless “please” that’s more about staying connected than getting off. jaemin’s behind you, mouth hot at your neck, one hand gripping your hip while the other slides between your legs without asking — not because he doesn’t know the rules, but because he wants to be punished for breaking them. he fucks you with teeth bared, not to steal control, but to pull it from you just enough to make you take it back harder. he’s loud where jeno is silent, fast where jeno is patient, and every second they’re inside you at once, you feel it — their difference, their edge, their devotion. one serves. the other resists. you keep both of them exactly where they belong.

you take the dominant role because they need you to. because control isn’t just something you wear well — it’s something they fall into the second you touch them. jeno craves your authority like a tether, like it’s the only thing that keeps him grounded when his body’s spiraling with need. he’s built to follow: all discipline, breathy submission, wide eyes and shaky whimpers when you tell him to hold still. his pleasure relies on your pace, your permission, your praise — being good for you is what makes him come. that’s his role: the one who obeys. the one who waits. the one who breaks prettily at your feet and thanks you for it. jaemin, though — jaemin’s not soft. he doesn’t fold. he challenges. he plays dominant by default, lives to provoke, to test limits, to touch without asking and smirk when you tell him no. his role isn’t to be controlled easily — it’s to make you prove you can. he pushes back with bite, with pace, with fingers that grab too hard and thrusts that drag filthy curses out of you, because he wants to see if you can take him apart without losing yourself. that’s the thrill for him: when you pin him anyway. when you tighten your grip on both of them and make them serve you together. jeno gives you submission as a gift. jaemin makes you earn it. and you? you take the lead because you can handle both. because neither of them can touch what you control — unless you let them.

what do they get from it emotionally?

jeno — emotional clarity, permission to soften, and quiet security jeno doesn’t enter threesomes for novelty or chaos — he enters when he trusts the dynamic. emotionally, what he gets from it is permission. he’s someone who lives under pressure — athletic discipline, family expectation, team responsibility — so sex is one of the few spaces where he can surrender, where nothing is expected of him except presence and pleasure. in a threesome, that need multiplies. it gives him the chance to feel chosen in a crowd, to be desired not just in a one-on-one vacuum, but with and against someone else. being shared, watched, instructed — it unburdens him from control. he doesn’t need to perform dominance. he just gets to feel.

he thrives in roles where someone else is taking the lead — especially in situations where emotional intimacy is paired with physical intensity. jeno’s the type to kiss softly during someone else’s orgasm, to hold hands while someone else fucks you, to need to be needed, even if the attention isn’t solely his. emotionally, he finds reassurance in threesomes when the connection is balanced — when he knows he’s not just extra. when he sees you watching him while you’re with someone else, or when someone mouths “good boy” in his ear while he holds back for you. it’s not about competition for him. it’s about being trusted enough to be invited into something shared.

jaemin — stimulation, control through chaos, and affirmation through intensity jaemin, on the other hand, doesn’t seek softness in threesomes — he seeks proof. proof that he can captivate in a room full of want. that his presence doesn’t get diluted when there’s more than one body in the bed. emotionally, he uses threesomes as a way to maintain edge — not to lose himself, but to heighten his own sense of dominance and cleverness. when someone’s moaning under someone else’s touch, jaemin wants to be the one dragging their eyes back to him. when things get messy and unbalanced, he thrives on recalibrating the dynamic — making himself unforgettable in the middle of heat and distraction.

for jaemin, a threesome offers something specific: attention split that he still manages to win. he likes the challenge of being watched, likes fucking someone while whispering about the third person in the room, likes being part of something sensory and indulgent, while still controlling the tempo. emotionally, it feeds his confidence and his deflection at the same time. he’s not there to open up, he’s there to create the scene, direct the tempo, say things that make people blush and squirm. and when he is affected? when someone turns the game on him, makes him wait, makes him beg, it disarms him in a way that thrills him.

in summary: • jeno gets to feel safe, wanted, and led — threesomes offer him release from expectation and a chance to participate in something emotionally generous, even tender. • jaemin gets to feel seen, desired, and in control — threesomes give him space to express dominance, toy with tension, and feel emotionally powerful in a curated chaos.

how does it affect their larger dynamic?

in the larger context of their relationship, their years-long, platonic, emotionally loaded brotherhood — threesomes don’t fracture jeno and jaemin’s dynamic, but they complicate it in ways neither of them ever speaks aloud. because threesomes expose something that their friendship is built to avoid: vulnerability. not between them directly — they never touch, never flirt, never cross the line into romantic tension but the intimacy of watching each other give and take that close up does something. it marks them.

jeno sees the way jaemin fucks — how reckless he gets, how sharp his focus turns when he wants to prove something and it reminds him that jaemin is performing even in pleasure. it makes him protective, and a little resentful, especially if jaemin starts pushing a partner too hard just to get a reaction. jeno’s quiet about it, but it sits under his skin — the discomfort of watching someone he loves act out in a way that feels like a cry for attention no one else hears.

jaemin, on the flip side, watches how soft jeno becomes in group sex — how fully he hands over control, how deeply he connects, how emotional his responses are — and it rattles him. because it’s not just submission; it’s sincerity. and jaemin isn’t used to sincerity surviving in shared spaces. it makes him feel like jeno’s playing a game jaemin doesn’t know the rules to. he’ll tease him afterward, keep it light — “you looked like you were gonna cry when she pulled your hair,” — but deep down, it reminds him that jeno feels everything more than he lets on. and that stings.

over time, threesomes become a mirror. not for their friendship, which stays stable on the surface, but for all the ways they respond to intimacy. jeno doesn’t seek it anymore unless he knows there’s emotional safety. jaemin leans into it harder, treats it like performance art. but every time it happens, and they’re both in the room — fucking someone else, never touching, never crossing that line. they’re both aware of the contrast. jeno makes people feel protected. jaemin makes them feel overwhelmed. jeno slows things down. jaemin speeds them up. and being reminded of that again and again, in sweat, in sound, in glances across a body, makes their friendship more layered. heavier. not broken. just full of unspoken truths.

they’ll never talk about it. but it changes the way they look at each other, after. not with regret. just with recognition. i know how you love. i know how you hide. and maybe that’s what binds them tighter, not the sex itself, but the fact that they survived it without losing the thread between them. they’re still boys who would show up, no matter the hour. they’re still brothers who won’t say “i love you” but would bleed for each other. but now they’ve seen each other mid-need. mid-performance. mid-collapse. and that makes the silence between them louder.

[smylenol]

It’s just how it is. I’m not really allowed to live here if I give the neighbourhood or city a bad name. Soooooo.. that means.. a lot of frivolous explaining and sulking and backpedaling, a lot of shame and pity..

Backfiring and sputtering and..

..nnnyeheh.

For an example, a long while ago, I gave Disney Pixar a bad name of sorts. Said I “wanted to be more Up than Pixar”, and it was in reference to a swollen whosamawhatsit between the legs. Wasn’t very clean or nice.

Then.. Winning Card happened, and I was able to reframe it all thanks to that scene with The Joker and a child sitting on a park bench in the rain, and there’s a red balloon in his hand, with them sitting apart at a safe distance.

I memory-spammed all throughout my childhood and what the heartbreaking scenes of Up are, and..

..yes, well.. I have many reasons to never smile again. Of course I’m.. ashamed and thought I could make a sick cruel sex joke out of a beloved childhood experience of many.

Some fellow was extremely kind to me this morning, while I was looking around my usual tobacco and ganja scrounging spots. (No, I’m not much of a stalwart face character, following in my footsteps precisely will potentially see you unluckier than I)

The other day I had my leg extended while I trashcan dived for smokable provisions, and was growl-howling for someone to disconnect my Achilles tendon, so I could finally find a permanent soothing rest. I can’t remember if that was the same day that I psychotically raised my voice to my social worker when they called to make a house call for a check-up..

I guess there’s treasure everywhere. If you can call some of this treasure.. S’pose it keeps me keeping along.

Anyways, a fellow today saw me trash can diving and felt compelled enough to offer their two last smokes in their pack. I may never see them again to repay the favour, but it has me mostly convinced that there’s good and kind people that comprise these city streets. Visitors, residents, tourists, escapists, artists, and travel survivors.

……sometimes .. very exceedingly infrequently.. I ask for a cigarette here and there, but I know how pricey tobacco is, and I’ve been certainly nuisance enough. Haven’t I? I just move to a new city and go “Hee Hee Hee HOHoHOHo guffawhawhaw Waitaminute .. what is that?”

I don’t know what I’m doing today, dear readers. Refraining from fights, keeping from poor manners, staying from emotionally confining in any way..

Yes, good good, who is Tobey, maybe someone cares, I don’t expect anybody to. (I know, you don’t really need a filter to look and write like a prize. Buh-ha-ha-ha.)

Long as I don’t open my wrists, Daniel Larson myself, and keep a good mental vigilance over where vice and virtue go, I shouldn’t be a problem.

Juh-heezus

I’m so ready to be shot and beaten and cancelled and me-too’d and spit at and thrown about and all that stuff that apparently makes me brave in the face of paranoid schizophrenia.

I wonder, do people really have it in their heads that I just want to lure and then sex it out? Maybe I set myself up for this fall. The “Jokerotic”, hm? *snort* I’m a pissant if you really think I just want a romp in the sheets with.. anyone, really. One of my mental processes is doing away with the libido, all the time.. Of course there’s grown women I’d be attracted to, but I enjoy myself a little more as a femscary clown boy.. while I’m still breathing.

Ew. This Rocksteady Arkham hair. Then again, it helps with escaping cruel and forceful reality..

Now for you and yours, I open the floor towards your discussing what The Solitaire Mystery means and the twisting of freedoms that end in depressive and melancholic experiences.

[butch-bakugo]

Why are vetted accounts sending people stuff like this.

I mean it's clearly copy-pasted and sent to multiple people but this isn't even a donations ask. Imma guess the reason people aren't responding is because you're accusing them of not doing enough for Palestine and sending it to multiple people who you clearly don't check because I've been posting about and for Palestine since oct 7th when I learned about it.

Also yes he is looking for donations, you can check his account and find it. Why are you sending this guilt trippy stuff to people and accusing them of not caring enough? You don't know me? You send these to multiple people so your clearly not checking the account in question. This dose nothing to help you personally or the Palestinian cause, it just pisses people off and makes them question vetters.

[oceanwithouthermoon]

i think its weird that i have to make this disclaimer but the internet is crazy so wtvr,, anyway,,

if i say i dont like something, that doesnt mean "that thing is bad and nobody should post it.."

i swear literally every time i even mention that i dislike something, people will go "wow does that mean u fucking hate me cuz i post that thing? ur a fucking stupid bitch and all ur opinions r wrong" LIKE ?? er.. no. just because i say i dont like certain characterizations of certain characters (the saiki k fandom is CRAZY about this cuz i can state an opinion on literally any character and a group of people will still go 'well only we're allowed to post our opinions about them because we're always right!1!1!'), or certain ship tropes (mentioned my hatred of toxic yaoi maybe once or twice on here months ago and people STILL get mad at me as if i said toxic yaoi lovers r evil or something), or certain ships, or WHATEVER, does not mean that i HATE the people who are posting them or that i think they shouldnt post them at all, NO, im just posting about my personal tastes on my personal blog and it would be extremely weird and hypocritical if i decided that i was the ONLY person that was allowed to do that,,

i think the only reason people assume that is because there are a lot of other people on here who ARE like that, and a lot of people toe the line between posting that they dont like something and posting that they think everyone who likes that thing is stupid, annoying, and wrong,, so i guess all i can say is, sorry for whatever made you make these assumptions but they arent true about me so plz leave me alone ʘ‿ʘ ur doing the same thing to me that ur accusing me of but i didnt do it in the first place so ur just actively being a dick for no reason

[qcomicsy]

Lately I've only been wishing to grab a comic about my favorite character and just have a genuinely good time reading it.

[ahalliance]

how do i turn qantoine’s spontaneous marriage proposal to qetoiles into evidence of his early-days fear of qfrench drifing away and keeping secrets from one another