#and this was quite interesting to write up

[idolomantises]

I find Sarcastic Chorus's video on why he's quitting Helluva Boss really interesting but I'm kind of baffled by the number of people straight up not understanding his reasoning for quitting. I think it's interesting how both his video and the online reaction to it is basically the consequences of modern fandoms treating art like its something to mindlessly consume and not worth analyzing and critiqing, or else you're consuming it "wrong".

Like his argument isn't that he hates the show or that he was forcing himself to criticize the show, in fact one of his main problems was that he couldn't be MORE honest in his reviews because of how fans would react to it. The problem was that when your job is to analyze a show, and it has way too many problems to ignore, and you're dealing with a hyper-sensitive fanbase that's hostile to criticism, you end up feeling exhausted or flat out disinterested in reviewing it.

I actually find it really concerning that fans are coping so hard with him quitting that they're framing it like its his problem because he was "looking for problems on purpose" when it was pretty obvious that it genuinely makes him kind of miserable trying to pick apart the show's issues. I remember when he was SO confident that Hazbin Hotel would be amazing and "prove the haters wrong" only for him to acknowledge that it was a complete mess. I'm honestly more confused by the fans who watch a reviewer and then get mad when he... reviews things. It's not even that they disagree with him, but the audacity to even point out very noticeable flaws in the product is enough to set them off and accuse him of being a clout chaser and a hater. Like do you want to see a review or did you just want to watch someone lie to you and blindly praise a series for 30 minutes, because i find it really odd that so many fans are insistent that he should've done the latter.

I also got pretty annoyed by this insistence that he wouldn't have turned on this show if he didnt criticize it and "turned his brain off" instead which is the same stupid excuse people gave for Hazbin's sloppy writing. and I just find that just... baffling? Hazbin Hotel and Helluva Boss, as extremely flawed as they are, are clearly shows made with the clear intention of being taken seriously. Ffs the crew calls Helluva Boss "queer Bojack Horseman". Helluva Boss tackles topics like abuse, trauma, classism, racism, toxic relationships and redemption and Hazbin Hotel tackles themes like sexual trauma and abuse, redemption and religious oppression. But the problem is that both shows do it so poorly that people genuinely think that it's meant to be slop content that you're just supposed to turn your brain off and listen to.

I'm not going to forget when these fans were treating Helluva Boss's season 1 like peak queer representation and writing and insistent that Angel Dust was this amazingly well written gay male character that people only hated because he was messy and imperfect. Honestly kind of funny that I was chastised for saying that Angel Dust is just a sex joke only for the show, the crew, the merch, and even the damn playbill reduce him to just that. Slapping on trauma (especially knowing that its more of a fetish than a genuine exploration on male sexual abuse) doesn't really negate the fact that Angel Dust is poorly written. Side note: his fans are way too unhinged and aggressive, its getting very weird.

So its funny to me that now that Helluva Boss season 2 completely nose dived and Hazbin Hotel is a sloppy mess that feels more geared for children than adults, that now people are being told they're not allowed to analyze these shows or even pay attention to their problems, and are treated like idiots for doing so.

I think the problem is that I kind of think fans also notice the lowered quality of writing in both shows. because why aren't people actually defending the writing and character progression? instead of "Sarcastic Chorus is wrong because his criticism is incorrect and misses these points" its "Sarcastic Chorus is wrong because he should have shut his brain off and treated these shows like its cocomelon for adults"

[jarofstyles]

Benefits

Hi lovebugs! This can be read as a standalone, but this is a 3 parter. The first part will be put up here but the next two are Patreon exclusives if you’re interested. (Part two is up now) I hope you guys love it.

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WC- 6.6k

Warnings- Asshole-ish H, smut, slight degrading, oral, slight possessiverry, etc

She knew he was watching.

A subtle smirk played on her lips as she helped herself to a drink in the kitchen, nearly able to feel the man’s eyes on her as he traced her dress. One she wore just for him, but would never admit to. He wasn’t good about hiding how much he watched her, how much he had been curious about her, but he hadn’t talked much to her. Only stared.

She'd been warned that Harry was a man of few words. He didn't go out of his way to talk, he was the stereotype of tall, dark, handsome and dangerous-but it's exactly what she's been craving. Twisting the lid back onto the mixer, she finally raised the cup to her lips as she turned around to face him. He wasn't hiding the fact that he was watching her. His eyes didn't stray. He liked that she didn't waver in her staring back, too. Y/N could tell.

It had been a long time since a man had properly excited her. She wasn’t exactly the easiest to please, if she was being honest. Y/N got bored easily, she liked to play games, to test people to see if they could handle her- but something about Harry had her fully understanding that he could handle her, no problem. Maybe it was just the look in his eyes that told her he was intrigued by her but also wanted to eat her alive, but she quite liked it.

Her eyes flirted with his, as she slowly took a sip, her throat bobbing delicately. "I think you're enjoying the view." Her voice was sultry, a taunt. She was baiting him, daring him to respond, to engage. The game of cat and mouse had been fun, but she wanted to be caught. "You're not very good at hiding it."

“M’not trying to hide it.” His raspy voice made her internally peek up. She’d only heard it a handful of times but each one had nearly had her purring. The man had the voice of her wet dreams, and she sort of hated how he was checking off boxes she had purposely put too high.

A small smirk played on her lips as she set the cup down, her hands moving to rest on the counter. She leaned forward, her arms stretching out in front of her, very aware she was very generously handing over a view of her chest for him to glaze over. "Is that so?" She asked, matching his tone. "You're just going to stand there and stare at me then?" The challenge was laid out softly, despite the tension in the room.

“Mm. I was enjoying the view.” His body was leaned against the cabinets of the kitchen, no shame at all in admitting the fact. “Think y’like when I look.”

Her eyes traveled up his face and met his eyes, a slow blink the only reaction to his words. She liked it, damn it. She liked being the focus of his attention, even if he wasn't saying anything particularly sweet or romantic. There was something about his blunt honesty that drew her in. "And what if I told you I don't like it?" She asked, her voice a gentle purr. "What would you do then?"

“I’d tell you t’stop looking like that and maybe we could come to an agreement.” His eyes kept contact with no issue, challenging her back. “I know you’ve been looking back at me when y’think I’m not going to notice.”

God, he was hot. It was infuriating, really. Men weren’t supposed to effect her like this. She’d always had the upper hand, but this one had her wavering as she reached up to twist a strand of her hair around her finger. "And what kind of agreement would that be?" She asked with a soft tilt to her voice. She loved the way he spoke, the way his accent rolled off his tongue. It was so…different to the general population of men she was used to. Some could accuse her of being excited over having a new flavor at her fingertips, but Y/N would argue that anyone who got a few moments alone with him would feel that level of excitement prickle their nerves. "One where I stop looking at you and you start talking to me?" The girl suggested, the small smirk playing on her lips growing.

“Perhaps.” Crossing his arms, he stood up off the counter and slowly sauntered over to her. “Was tryin’ to figure you out. Don’t get new additions in the group often, and you’re different than the people we’re usually around.” His tall form had her lifting her head a bit to keep his eyes as he stopped in front of her.

 She’d been right. He was taller than she’d thought, and broader. The man had kept a physical distance before, but now she was feeling the effects of him dropping that barrier. He was just so…large. And it made her feel small, which was a feeling she rarely experienced. "And what have you figured out?" She asked softly, tilting her head to the side as her eyes fluttered to his lips briefly before meeting his eyes again.

“I’ve figured out a couple of things.” Taking another step forward he gave her the chance to move if she wanted- but she didn’t. Backing against the counter, she didn’t shy away from him. “Mostly that you’re a little bit bratty, but you aren’t fake. You’ve been mostly nice t’everyone.” It had been a relief. Harry wouldn’t have been shy about calling her out on ulterior motives, but he only knew of one- and it had come after she’d already met everyone. “And you want me t’fuck you.”

She swallowed hard, her heart in her throat as he took another step forward. Again, she could have moved, but she didn't. Instead, she stayed put, her back against the counter as she met his gaze. His words were blunt, and she liked that about him. Most people would sugarcoat things, but not him. "And what if I do?" She asked, her voice faltering slightly for the first time in a long time. It was so different, but...She liked it. He had managed to get her to feel something different. Naturally making her feel a little more submissive when she had been so used to taking in the opposite role. 

“I’d fuck you.” Harry rose a shoulder in a shrug. “I’ve wanted to do it since I met you. Had to figure out if you were someone who was going to stick around.” The tension was thick between them. “I don’t usually fuck people just once. Don't like to think with my dick. But I think you’d want it more than once.”

Her breath caught in her throat, the heat pooling between her legs at his words. She’d known he wanted her by the way he had looked at her body, but hearing him say it out loud had her insides quivering. He was so…crude and it was so hot. "I’d want it more than once." She admitted breathlessly. She wasn’t one to shy away from the fact. "And how many times do you think it would be?"

“I’m not in the business of letting you nut off and fuck off. If m’fucking you, you’ll be in my bed for hours. I don’t go easy.” It was the truth she needed to hear. Harry wasn’t one to half ass sex, and considering he’d been letting the want fester for a bit now, he had plenty of things he wanted to do for her. “Is that something you can handle?”

Her throat was dry, her voice hoarse as she responded, "Hours? That sounds...nice." She wanted to tell him that she could handle anything he threw at her, but she knew he'd only call her bluff. She'd never had a man talk to her like this before when she had confidence he could actually back up the claims, and it was exciting. Y/N wanted to know what else he'd say, what else he'd do. "And if I can't? What happens then?"

“Then I’ll walk away and let you continue your night. M’not going to do any of that if it isn’t what you can take, or isn’t what you want.” He made no effort to move, though, because he already knew what her answer is going to be. “You’re not gonna make it weird for everyone else in the group after we fuck, yeah? You’ll be able to behave yourself whenever we go out for the stupid dinners and drinks?”

She swallowed hard, his words making her feel things she hadn't felt in a long time. The way he was talking to her, the intensity in his eyes, it was all so new and thrilling. "I can handle anything you give me." She said softly, her voice filled with a confidence she didn't quite feel but wanted to project. "And I can behave myself. I'm not some teenager who's going to go running to the group about this."

“Just got t’be sure, Cherry.” Lifting a finger up towards her bottom lip, he smeared the lipstick with his thumb before pulling it back. “You don’t seem to be the kiss and tell type, but you never know.”

Her eyes fluttered closed briefly as his thumb brushed against her bottom lip, again the action so simple yet so hot. A little invasive- in a good way. She couldn't help but part her lips slightly, inviting him to touch her more. "I'm not. And besides, who would I tell?" She asked softly.

“That’s the right answer.” He sighed, taking a second to look over his shoulder and back to her face. “C’mon then. M’not fucking you here. Don’t want you to have to keep quiet. If I’m fucking you, I want to hear you.” Curling his hand around the back of her neck, he brought her out the back door. “S’a short walk.”

——-

He had a nice house. Smaller, with a porch and garage. Newly painted, lawn maintained and a little tree in the front. It wasn’t the bachelor pad she had expected, but she really didn’t know that much about him- did she? That was becoming more apparent the longer she spent near him. 

“C’mon. Inside.” He unlocked the door and ushered her in, relieving them from the chill of the night. “Shouldn’t go out without a jacket next time.” The grumble seemed to make her laugh as he tossed his keys into the bowl, kicking his shoes haphazardly on the mat. She hadn’t expected to go on a stroll, so she had left the jacket in her car- but he didn’t really care about that. “Do you want a drink? Or do you just want to get into it?”

Her eyes scanned the cozy interior of his home, taking her even further by surprise. No, it wasn’t the bachelor pad at all. It was tidy and clean, with a few personal touches that gave her a glimpse into what was probably his actual personality. She noticed a guitar in the corner, a few books on a shelf, and a framed photo on the mantle that she couldn’t quite make out. “Huh?” The place had warmth she hadn’t expected to see, and the distraction was evident as she vaguely heard him ask something.

“Do you want me t’get you a drink, or do you want me to get to fucking you?”

Her attention snapped back to him, his words making her blush. Honestly? She really did love how blunt he could be, no sugarcoating or beating around the bush. It was so common to have people be coy about what they wanted, but then again Harry wasn’t anything close to most people she had met.  "Oh, um, I think I'll go with the second option," Her words came out slightly shy, with a hesitant smile. She looked around the room again, taking in the details, before her gaze landed back on him. "But first, can I ask you something?"

“Yeah.” He grunted, taking a step into her space and putting his hands on her waist as he backed her further into the home. “Make it quick. Dick’s fucking aching.”

Her breath hitched as he moved closer, his hands on her waist making her feel small and delicate. She licked her lips, hesitation flickering in her eyes before she asked, "It’s just…Why me? You've barely said two words to me before tonight. And now...here we are." She trailed off, nibbling her lip. A nervous tell.

“Because I was trying t’see if you were someone that was going to stick around.” He said bluntly. “Lots of people pop in and back out. Didn’t know if you’d be one of the floaters. Got to watch you and see how you were before I talked to you. I wanted to see what you’d say.” While some could call it a little creepy, he’d more so put it as educating himself for the best result. “Wasn’t sure you’d be okay with me fucking you. Some people can’t handle me or how I talk. You’re a sweet little thing but I can tell you like some of the nasty shit. So we’d most likely get along.”

She blinked at him, processing his blunt words. A small, almost imperceptible shiver ran through her body at his assessment. He had been watching her, evaluating her...and apparently found her worthy of letting her see a whole different side of him. Y/N hadn’t pushed her luck in regard to asking about him but she figured there wasn’t much people would say anyways. It was obvious to her through her own observations that he had been quiet about a lot on purpose. Considering there were a few people in the group that did indeed find him incredibly attractive, it was more than exciting that he had chosen her- mirrored her own quiet interest. The thought sent a thrill down her spine. 

"I...I appreciate your thoroughness," she said, a slight tremor in her voice, though trying to still appear confident in the way she had tried to portray. It wasn’t an act- she really was like that- but Harry had that little edge to him that made her want to soften up. "And you're right, I can handle you. I like a man who knows what he wants."

She took a deep breath, steeling herself. “And what do you want, specifically?” Her voice was low, almost breathy as she looked up at him. “With me?” His words had given her a lot to think about. The way he had evaluated her, the way he had found her worthy all while barely knowing her, and the way he had so bluntly admitted that he wanted her around for more than just a one-night stand. But she wanted to hear it all.

“I want to have an arrangement between the two of us. Told you, m’not someone who fucks people once. Not sure if m’looking for a relationship, but I want to like the person I’m fucking.” It was convinent for a release, having an understanding. “We’ve obviously got physical chemistry, find each other attractive and have the same friends. I think…” He leaned his face closer to hers. “We should be friends that fuck. Often.”

She nodded slowly, her gaze locked onto his. "Friends with benefits," she clarified softly. "No strings attached, but...exclusivity?" She wanted to know that she was the only one he was sleeping with, even if they weren't in a traditional relationship. "And we can still hang out with our mutual friends, just...without them knowing the details?" She bit her lip, considering the proposition.

“Yeah. Don’t worry about me, I don’t have the time to find other people to fuck. Work a lot, and I’ve got particular taste. I don’t want to worry about you fucking around either. Too much shit goes around. Eventually I’d like to ditch the condoms.” He shrugged, firmly gripping her waist to pick her up and set her on the hallway table. “It’ll be nice. You can just… Call me when you need to be fucked. I’ll call you. Scratch the itch. The rest don’t have to know a thing.”

She let out a soft sigh as he set her on the table, her arms wrapping around his neck as he towered over her. "Alright," she agreed, her heart racing at the thought of being exclusive with him. "Just you and me, no strings, no other people involved." She looked up at him, her eyes searching his face. "And...no labels either, right? We're just friends who fuck, nothing more."

“Right. As long as you know that cunt’s mine to fuck for now, I’m happy.” He chuckled under his breath, nudging her thighs apart. “You wore this dress for me, didn’t you?” Fingers dragged up her inner thigh as he questioned her. “Cause you wanted my attention.”

She let her legs fall open, her breath hitching as he nudged her thighs apart. Her heart fluttered at his words, her insides clenching at the possessiveness in his voice. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, she knew she had. When the confirmation that he had been coming had been dropped in the group text, she had taken getting ready a bit more seriously. Though she hadn’t expected this to be the outcome. Not in the slightest. "Yes, it was for you," she admitted, her voice dropping to a whisper as he touched her thigh. "I hoped you’d like it.” She squirmed, her legs spreading further. "Did you?

“Decided to take you home, didn’t I?” Shaking his head, he let out a sigh as he watched her squirm. “Course I fuckin’ liked it. But you’ve been taunting me, and you weren’t subtle about it either. Figured I had to ask you now.” Ghosting his fingertips along the hem of her panties, he tangled his other hand in the ends of her hair to tug her head back. “Could tell you were starting to get a little desperate.”

She moaned softly as he pulled her head back, her eyes fluttering closed briefly before locking onto his again. "Well, you were staring at me like you wanted to eat me alive," she retorted, her voice breathy. "So...yeah, maybe I was getting a little desperate." She bit her lip, shifting her hips forward. "So, are you going to touch me now?"

His touch was gentle, almost torturously so, as he ran his fingertips over the damp fabric. His eyes were locked onto hers, watching her reactions intently. "You're so eager. Though m’not so sure I like the sass. I’ll do as I like, and you can tell me how good it feels." he murmured, his thumb pressing down on her through the thin material. "I bet you're dripping, aren't you?" His touch grew firmer, ever so slowly rubbing his thumb over her clit.

Her breath hitched, her hips bucking forward to meet his touch. She hadn’t been sure how he would be in this sort of scenario, but it was better than she imagined. It took a special sort of man to make her feel even the slightest bit submissive and she almost melting. "Y-yes," she stammered, her voice slightly shaky. It was embarrassing how wet she got for him before he’d even touched her. "I'm...I'm soaking for you." Her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as her head fell back against the wall.

She could feel his touch like a brand through the thin fabric, her legs spreading wider to grant him better access. Her breath came in short gasps, her chest heaving with each breath. "Please," she whimpered, her hips moving in rhythm with his touch. "It's not enough..."

“Greedy.” He laughed through his nose. “I was curious how you’d be once I got my hands on you. You talk a big game, like t’be a tease… but in reality, you’re a desperate little slut, hm?” It was the most he’s ever spoken to her, but she couldn’t complain when his words went straight to her cunt.

"I can’t help it! You started it.” She gasped as he found a rhythm, her body tensing as his fingers tugged the panties to the side, slipping under the fabric. "Oh god…” She moaned, her body tensing as his calloused fingertips grazed her bare flesh.  His words made her squirm, her body trembling as he slid a long, thick finger inside her.

“I didn’t start anything.” His voice was contained, even as he spoke with the smug little smirk on his face. “I told you, I needed t’figure you out. I hoped you’d be like this…” Looking down to where his hand was hidden between her legs, slowly pushing his finger in and out of her sopping wet cunt, he licked over his bottom lip. “Desperate. Melt at the slightest touch. You rejected everyone who came up to you at the bars when they wanted to take you home but you love t’flirt. You knew they wouldn’t be able to give you what you needed- so you waited for me to move in.”

"Mmmm…” She let out a moan as he slipped another finger inside her. "They can’t handle me. They want to try but I don’t want someone to try- I want them to do it.” she whimpered, rocking her hips into his hand. "You’re wrong, you did start it.” She gasped out, her back arching as he crooked his fingers to graze against that sweet spot inside her. "You walked in and you...you just stared at me like you owned me.”

“Because I did.” He leaned forward, letting their lips brush. “And now I do. This wet little cunt is mine to fuck for now. Got all slick before I had even laid my hands on you, fucking filthy.” He sneered. “Listen to that.” The sound of his fingers fucking into her were audible beneath her pants.

The squelching sound of his fingers pumping in and out of her quivering hole echoed through the room, a lewd melody that grew louder with each thrust. Her own wetness made his digits glisten, the sound of her coating his skin becoming embarrassingly audible. Every push into her tight hole was met with a wet slap of his palm over her clit, punctuated by her short breaths and gasps.

"It is your fault!" She hissed, her voice strained as she tried to keep quiet. "You kept staring at me like…like you wanted to devour me. It's not fair!" Her hips jerked forward as he increased the pace, her hand flying to his shoulders to steady herself. "You're gonna make me come like this." She hissed, her nails digging into his shirt.

“Then cum.” He taunted. “If it’s all my fault that your desperate pussy got all sloppy and wet, cum on my fingers and show me that then. Barely even touched you and you’re clenching all around my fingers.”

Her breath hitched, her face flushing with heat. "Oh god, shut up..." She hissed, her hips bucking against his hand as he curled his fingers inside her, getting the spot she couldn’t get on her own. "H-Harry… Fuck." She let out a high-pitched cry as she finally shattered, her inner muscles tightening around his fingers as wave after wave of pleasure washed over her.

Her body trembled as the intense pressure building inside her finally broke. Her inner walls clamped down around his fingers, squeezing them as she rode out the waves of her orgasm. The lewd sounds of his digits moving in and out of her drenched opening grew louder as she writhed against his hand, soaking his skin. Without thinking, she buried her face against his neck, muffling her whimpers as the peak of her climax washed over her.

"There y’go. Filthy girl, making a mess of my hand.” He coaxed, slowing his fingers down but rubbing right against the spongy spot in her cunt to make it last. “That’s what you needed, wasn’t it?”

"Mmm, yes." She mumbled against his neck, her breath hitching as aftershocks wracked her body. "Please...please no more..." She whimpered, her arms wrapping around his shoulders as she clung to him, boneless and spent. "It's too much." Her voice was soft, vulnerable.

“I think you can take more.” He said with a laugh, but pulled his fingers out anyway. “But since m’nice, I’ll give you a second. I’ll go easy on you since it’s the first time we’re fucking, but next time m’not stopping. You’ll keep cumming.” Harry had plenty of plans for her, she had no clue how much he’d been planning on this. “C’mon.” Scooping her up easily, he had her wrap her legs around his waist and arms around his shoulders as he carried her through the house.

"You’re insufferable.” She muttered, her head nuzzling against his neck as her body trembled in the aftermath of her release. She let out a soft squeak as he easily picked her up, her face flushed as she hid it. "Where are we going?” She asked, her voice soft. "I can walk, you know...” Y/N trailed off, her face flushing. "I’m not light, either.”

“Shut the fuck up with that. M’holding you, and m’not struggling.” He grunted, giving her ass a swat as he kicked open the door to his bedroom. “Bringing you to my room. Since your cunt needs a second, figured it’s nicer on your knees if you’re kneeling on my carpet t’suck me off.” The bluntness showed its head again as he felt her pull her face from his neck. “Been thinking about you getting that lipstick you keep wearin’ all over my cock.”

Her eyes widened in surprise, her cheeks flushing darker. "Oh...” She trailed off, licking her lips unconsciously as her gaze lowered to his crotch. "You mean like this?” She asked, her voice soft and sultry as she slid down his body to land on her feet. She slowly sank to her knees, her hands resting on his thighs. "Maybe I will, maybe I won’t..."

“I think you will. You’ve been gagging for it.” His hands grabbed the buckle of his belt as she looked up at him on her knees, the picture absolutely perfect. “You look awfully good there. Think you were made to be on your knees for me.” Depositing the leather onto the floor, he reached for her face and let his thumb smear her cherry red lipstick. “Go on. Undo my trousers, take my cock out. Know it’s what y’want. Don’t have to play coy with me.”

Her eyes fluttered closed as he smeared her lipstick, her tongue darting out to lick at her lips. "Mmm, you think so?” She cooed, her hands moving to his fly. She deftly undid the button and zipper, her slender fingers pushing the fabric down his hips. She leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to the bulge in his boxers, her voice low. "Maybe…” Her breath hitched as she felt the warmth of his body through the fabric. "Maybe I'll take your cock out and give it a little kiss first," she whispered, her hands gripping the elastic waistband, slowly pulling them down to help his cock out.

She looked up at him through her lashes, her pink tongue darting out to lick her lips once more. His cock was thick, the head flushed a ruddy red. Reaching out, she wrapped her hand around the base of his shaft, feeling the heat radiating from him. "So big and hard for me." she purred, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to the tip of his cock. Brushing her tongue around the sensitive tip, she smeared the precum that had leaked out. Looking up at him, she felt the thrill in her stomach as his eyes darkened with lust as he watched her. She opened her mouth, slowly lathing her tongue lick up and down his shaft from base to tip.

“There y’go.” He breathed, gathering her hair in a loose excuse for a ponytail. The red had transferred some to his cock and he loved the vision. He’d thought about it more times than he could count. “One day, think I should film this. Let you see how pretty you look on your knees.” He murmured, watching as her tongue ran back over the slit. “Get it wet.”

Humming in approval at his words, her tongue continuing to lap at his length, eyes fluttered closed as she felt his hand tighten in her hair. “I would like that.” Continuing to lick him, her tongue traced the ridges and veins of his cock before she looked up at him, wrapping her lips around the tip.

“Good.” He grunted as he felt the plushness of her lips take the head of him into her mouth, the slow pull of the suction. “Take a little more. Know you’ve been thinking about sucking this cock. Show me.”

As he spoke, she listened, taking more of him into her mouth. Unfortunately, she was not as immune to him as she had tried to be. It seemed she had met her match, wanting to please him in ways she usually scoffed at with any other man. She hollowed her cheeks, sucking hard as she bobbed her head up and down, doing the work she needed to make him pleased. Her hand wrapped around the base, stroking in time with her mouth as she looked up at him with heavy-lidded eyes, her throat working around his thickness.

“Oh, fuck.” He laughed deeply, head tilting back as she showed him what he had asked for. “Thatta’ girl. Knew you had it in you. Shit.” He cursed under his breath as the heat of her mouth welcomed him, taking him much better than he had anticipated.

She could feel his hands in her hair, guiding her pace, making sure she was taking him just right. The salty taste of his precum mixed with the musky scent of his arousal was intoxicating, making her head spin. She looked up at him, her lips stretched around his girth, and saw the raw desire in his eyes. It only fueled her own hunger, making her suck him even harder, desperate to please him.

Y/N moaned around his cock as he bottomed out in her throat, the vibrations traveling up his shaft. Her nose pressed against his pelvis as she swallowed around him, her throat constricting to make him hiss. She held herself there, savoring the feeling of being so completely filled by him before slowly pulling back to catch her breath. Strings of saliva connected her lips to his spit-shined cock.

His face contorted with pleasure as she deep-throated him, a guttural groan escaping his lips. "God, you're so good at that." Harry praised, his hands fisting her hair tighter. His hips bucked forward, meeting her bobbing head, the wet sounds of her mouth filling the room. His breathing grew heavier, chests heaving as he struggled to maintain control. "You’re gonna be a lot of fun to fuck, aren’t you?”

“Mhm.” With a messy pop, she pulled his cock out of her mouth, saliva dripping from his glistening tip. She looked up at him, her eyes dark with lust, before leaning forward and spitting directly onto his cock. The mess hit him dripping over the side, making him hiss in surprise. Rubbing her saliva into his cock, she coated him in it as she smirked up. Getting him to react was a reward. He had barely said anything to anyone, and she was the one getting him to groan and hiss. Sue her for feeling a little special. “Think it’s wet enough?” She purred, coy as she looked at him through his lashes.

Before she could say another word, Harry grabbed a handful of her hair and yanked her head back, his mouth crashing against hers in a searing kiss. His tongue pushed past her lips, making her moan in surprise. Was he good at everything? She could taste herself on him, the salty sweetness of her saliva mixing with the heat of his own mouth. Biting down on her lower lip, he pulled it gently between his teeth before letting go.

 "You talk too much."

Her breath hitched as he spoke against her mouth, his voice low and commanding. She could only manage a whimper in response, her knees growing weak. He took advantage of her parted lips and weakened stance, slipping his hands around to squeeze her ass, pulling her flush against him so she could feel him against her tummy. "But you're right," he murmured, voice roughened by desire. "You've made quite a mess. Think you’re ready to take my cock?"

She nodded eagerly, her eyes locked onto his intense gaze. "Then turn around and bend over the bed," he ordered, his voice firm, leaving no room for argument. She quickly complied, feeling a rush of cool air against her bare backside as she leaned forward, gripping the bed sheets tightly. 

As she leaned her chest further into the bed, she felt the soft fabric of the comforter against her breasts, her hard nipples grazing against it. Every sensation felt a little overwhelming, but in a good way. It had been a long time coming considering how she had tried to navigate how to work up how to simply talk to Harry, and now he was her supposed friends with benefits. Patience was wearing thin.  Swaying her ass enticingly, wanting to give him a good show- make him break. The room was filled with the sound of her shallow breathing, her chest heaving as she tried to regulate her breathing. Behind her, she could hear the crinkle of plastic as he sheathed himself in a condom.

She could imagine how Harry must look right now, his dark eyes fixed on her ass as he prepared himself. The thought sent her reeling. If only she had eyes on the back of her head. Feeling him step close, his body heat radiating off of himself and into her bare skin, she lifted her hips slightly, trying to guide his cock to press against her soaked entrance.

Harry's strong hands gripped her hips firmly, guiding her movements and controlling the pace. control- he was exercising the control that she clearly did not have. She felt the tip of his prick slowly push against her, inch by agonizing inch. Gasping, her fingers clawing at the bedsheets as she stretched to accommodate his size. The sensation was intense, bordering on overwhelming, but she welcomed it nonetheless, pushing back against him to encourage him to continue. "Oh, fucks sake.” She sulked into the mattress.

,"It’s not fair. You can’t.. You’re not supposed t’have such a big dick when you act like one.”  Her words came out in a string of stuttered moans as he seated himself fully inside her, his hips flush against her ass. He gave a low, satisfied chuckle, his body tensing as he held himself deep inside her.  She felt her insides clench around him, her body instinctively trying to adjust to his size. “Oh, no? You don’t like it?”

She shook her head vehemently, biting her lip as she felt him throb inside her. "N-no, I love it. I fucking love it." She admitted breathlessly, her voice thick with need. "It's just not...fair that you get to have such a perfect cock and you waited so long to give it to me." She punctuated her words with a roll of her hips, relishing the drag of his thick length against her walls.

Her insides felt like a silken vice around him, pulsating rhythmically as if trying to milk him despite him not being inside her long enough to do so.  Her body was already betraying her as her walls quivered around him, her inner muscles fluttering as if trying to entice him to move, to draw him in deeper. Her body was warm, and she was tight, gripping him as if she hadn’t been with anyone in years.

A smug grin spread across his face as he let out a low, satisfied groan from deep within his chest. “Well, m’sorry, babe. Had t’make sure you’d be a good fit for my cock. I think I made the right call, though. Tight little thing, squeezing me the way I like.” He taunted, his voice laced with amusement. His hands tightened on her hips, fingers digging into her flesh as he slowly began to move within her. "You like how I fill you up?" He punctuated his words with slow, measured thrusts, his voice growing hoarser as she clenched around him.

When she struggled to answer, he let out a laugh instead. He continued to speak for her, his voice a low, husky rumble as he slowly pumped into her. "Yeah, y’like being stuffed full of my cock. Like how it stretches you open and makes you feel so fucking small." He teased, his fingers digging into her hips as he picked up his pace slightly. "Barely able to talk back to me when I know you love to run that filthy mouth. Must be because you’re not used to being filled like this.”

She mewled, her hips rolling to meet his thrusts. He was right. Embarrassingly so. The wet squelch of his cock plunging in and out of her filled the room, mixing with the erotic symphony of their moans and groans. He could feel her getting more slick, her arousal coating his shaft and dripping down onto his balls. "That's it, take it deep like that. You like to play tough, but you just want t’be a good girl for me. Isn’t that right?"

Her response was a strangled cry, her pussy fluttering around him as if to agree. He grunted in approval, his hips snapping forward to fill her again. "Good girl," he praised darkly. "You're doing so well. Such a good little thing, taking me so well. Now answer me.” The croon was soft, a direct opposite to his pace. “Gonna let me fuck you when I want, mm? Gonna call me when y’need it too?”

She keened, her voice echoing in the room. "Y-Yes please... I- I'll call you. I'll be good. I'll... I'll let you. I'll let you whenever you want!" Her words came out disjointed, broken up by his thrusts growing a bit harder, jostling her where she laid. Her hands fisted the sheets beneath her, her knuckles turning white as she tried to keep herself grounded.

"That’s a good fuckin’ girl. You're gonna be so well-behaved for me, aren't you?" He cooed, his voice a soothing contrast to the growing brutal pace of his hips. One hand slid up her back, pressing between her shoulder blades to keep her arched as he took his pleasure from her. "You're mine t’play with now, understand? This pretty little cunt belongs to me." As he continued to pound into her, she felt a sense of contentment wash over her. This was exactly what she needed - someone to take control, to make her feel desired and owned. And Harry was perfect for the job. They were going to be lovely friends, with many benefits. As she teetered on the edge of her climax, she felt a sense of peace settle over her, knowing that she was exactly where she was meant to be.

[honeekyuu]

talk too much. [suna rintarou x reader]

twelve. lipstick

previous || masterlist || next

a/n. you ever just miss a man so much you pick up a hobby again?

warnings: suna rintarou

✗ !!! minors do not interact !!! ✗

✗ !!! ignore timestamps !!! ✗

“We’re still on for Saturday, right?”

You swallow down the bite of dinner, smiling nervously into the camera. Suna’s got two fries in his mouth, and he’s not looking at you. His gaze focused very carefully on his drawing pad, stylus gripped loosely between his fingers and following the path his wrist sets with care.

It’s just after seven o’clock, but you’d been on the phone since two. He’d clocked quite a few extra hours in the studio this week due to some project deadlines, and you’d dutifully sat on the other end of a facetime call every night. Your own work remains undone, the problem set haunting you from the corner of your desk. You have a draft of a chapter for your writing class up on your monitor, your messy notes open on your laptop. 

You’d been doing that more recently, too. Blatantly ignoring the responsibilities of your major to actually invest in your electives, this one in particular. You’d always been interested in writing, but it’d been more of a passing hobby than anything else. This class – and the encouraging feedback from your professor – had made it scarily real for you in the last few weeks, with a terrible, lingering hope filling you. A terrible hope that this might be what you’ve wanted to do this whole time. A terrible, nagging thought that the unopened problem set on your desk might be indicative of something bigger that you’ve been trying not to acknowledge.

You’re more than happy to set that issue aside to engage Suna’s conversation.

“Saturday?” you say, spooning more of your rice bowl into your mouth while you give him your attention. He only glances at you, eyes dropping to your mouth before flitting toward his own dinner shyly. He shoves nearly half of his burger in his mouth, only snorting when you watch in horror, before nodding.

“‘aturday,” he mumbles plainly, and you have to pull up your calendar because you know that’s all you’re getting.

PUMPKIN PATCH – DON’T FREAK.

Well, that’s not helpful.

Your chest swarms with nerves, and you do your best to appear as though a brick of fear hasn’t just come down over your head.

“Oh, yeah. Yeah, that sounds good.”

He sees right through it, swallowing while he cuts you a disbelieving glance. “You’re so nonchalant and cool.”

You laugh, hiding behind a hand. “Sorry, I’m freaking out.”

“Me, too.”

His honesty is disarming as always. 

“Yeah?”

“Incredibly. But I still wanna do it.”

You purse your lips, warming. “Me, too.”

A beat passes, and then a voice full of fond amusement. “Yeah? You sure?” 

A roll of your eyes, the draw of his laugh when he sees it.

“Yes, Rinnie. I’m sure.”

A sigh of frustration masked as a laugh. “You’re so cruel for that.”

It’s hard to focus on your draft that night.

–

You take a deep breath and exhale slow. Slow. 

Breathe in, turn to look at yourself in the mirror, this way and that. 

Breathe out slow. Slow. 

“It’s okay,” you say to yourself, breathing in slow and then breathing out slower. “It’s okay, it’s Suna.”

It’s Suna, the same boy you’ve been talking to for weeks – months, really. The same boy who’s proven again and again that he’s not like any boy you’ve ever met before. The same boy who’d asked to pick you up this morning, who’d asked to walk entirely out of his way to pick you up for a date. A date that he’d been pushing for since before either of you could consider it one.

“It’s Suna,” you breathe again, forcing yourself to be okay with how your hair looks. “Just a first date. With Suna.” 

There are three quiet knocks on the front door, echoing around your apartment and into your bedroom.

Just a first date with Suna.

You start to sweat almost immediately.

“Okay,” you breathe, fanning your face with nervous hands and walking on shaky legs to your bedroom door. “Okay, I can do this.” You look around the living room as you cross it, making sure the space is tidy and lacking anything potentially embarrassing. You’d already checked five times, but one more couldn’t hurt.

By the time your hand is on the doorknob, your face is burning and your hands are clammy.

The man on the other side of the door doesn’t look much better.

It’s weird, meeting someone you’ve known for months.

The first thing you notice is that he’s tall. You’d known. You’d known he’d be tall, but fuck, he’s tall.

The second thing you notice is that he’s got dark features but light eyes. Green eyes, but black hair, black eyebrows. Green eyes, but inky black eyelashes that flutter over them. You’d known that too, from the photos and the calls, but his eyes are greener and his hair is darker in person. His clothes are just as dark, grey shirt tucked into black jeans and dark plaid flannel thrown over the top.

You notice the piercings and tattoos, too. The lip ring he tugs nervously between his teeth, the uneven number of piercings on his left ear and right ear, glinting in the light of your apartment hallway. The black ink peeking out from under the sleeves of his flannel, dark ink and pale, ringed fingers.

Pale, ringed fingers that are shaking just slightly, wrapped tight around a bouquet of flowers.

He looks exactly the same as he does in his photos – the familiarity is nearly overwhelming – but everything is new, intense. The reality of Suna Rintarou is stronger than it had been before.

“Hi,” you whisper, staring up at him with wide eyes. He stares back, looking just as stunned.

“Hi-” he breathes, cutting short and swallowing hard. You watch his Adam’s apple bob, ink on his throat moving with it. “-pretty girl.”

You’re not sure you’ll survive this day.

You shiver, breaking eye contact nervously and trying not to let the chills that his voice induces run rampant on your skin. “Do…” You glance over your shoulder and then back at him. “D’you wanna come in? For coffee or something?”

You watch his face redden in real time, watch his ears turn pink as he looks away from you. 

He’s as nervous as you are.

“Sure,” he says quietly. “That sounds nice.” He follows you inside, stepping carefully into your foyer and looking around curiously while he takes his shoes off. “I like your place.”

You warm, padding into the kitchen to start making coffee. You’re distracted beyond belief, distracted by the overwhelming sense of Suna’s presence. It only worsens when you glance back to thank him and realize that he’d followed you down the hall. “Oh. Hi.”

His eyes scan your face – your wide eyes and surprised blush – and then he bites down on his lip ring, a teasing smile tugging at his lips. “Hi. Am I making you nervous?”

Laughter bubbles out of you, and that wave of familiarity returns, washing away some of your anxiety about meeting him. You already know him.

“Maybe,” you tease, nodding back at the bouquet hanging limply in his hand. “But not any more nervous than I’m making you.”

Suna glances down, realizing that his hand is gripped so tight around it that petals are starting to shed off of the flowers onto your floor. “Oh-” He holds out the bouquet, grimacing when more petals float down between you. “This is for you.”

You smile, feeling a swell of giddiness rise in your chest – the one that you’ve always gotten with him, from the moment you started to fall for him. “I have some vases in that cabinet over the fridge,” you say, still grinning stupidly at him. His eyes twinkle, and you know he’s caught the tinge of domesticity in the way you talk to him. “Help me out, 6’3”?”

He sets the bouquet on the counter, never taking his eyes off of you. “Whatever you say, pretty girl.”

Oh, good lord.

You press a clammy hand to your heated face, watching him cross the kitchen toward you. You lean into the corner of the counter when he stops close enough to you that his scent washes over you, warm and comforting and so Suna and new that you have to fight not to gravitate toward him. 

Suna reaches up with ease, pulling the cabinet open and plucking a small vase from inside. He smirks to himself while he does. “Why d’you keep these up here if you can’t reach?”

“So I can get pretty boys like you to do it for me,” you joke, basking in the nervous flutter of those inky black lashes and the sharp cut of those green eyes down to yours.

“Got a lot of pretty boys on your roster?” His voice drips in annoyance, but his face is a lovely pink color and he can’t seem to keep eye contact with you.

“Just one,” you say, your confidence leaving you when he hands over the vase. Your fingers brush against his, and your heart flies to your throat, the nerves unbearable. You turn away, filling the vase with water from the tap and putting far too much care into arranging the bouquet. You feel him behind you, feel his eyes burning through your skin as he takes you in.

“I like your jeans,” is all he says. 

You glance down, taking in the light denim jeans and burnt orange cardigan you’d spent way too much time picking out last night. You’re not the biggest fan of how the jeans fit you, mainly because they’re much more form-fitting than you’re used to, but you’d really wanted to try something new for him. To show him how far you’ve come.

“Thanks,” you whisper nervously. “I’m still getting used to them.” He doesn’t say anything, but there’s a large part of you knows that he doesn’t need to. You can feel his pride from here, washing over you in waves of heat.

You turn back to him, leaning all your weight on the counter so you don’t collapse. “I like your outfit, too.”

His grin is torture, you’re sure of it.

“Thanks,” he mumbles. “I tried really hard today.” When you just beam up at him playfully, he sighs in defeat and looks away. He scans over all the things on your fridge, lingering on the polaroids of you with your friends while he speaks. “‘s probably better if we skip the coffee and just go.”

Your face drops, and you blink in confusion. “Why?”

He just smiles in a way that feels self-deprecating, eyes locked on a photo of Alisa and Suga kissing each of your cheeks while you laugh. He swallows, staring down at it with something warm in his gaze. “If we stay here much longer, I’m not gonna wanna leave.”

He has no idea how okay with that you just might be.

Still, he’d promised you a pumpkin patch.

You step toward him, closing the distance and watching as his gaze flits to yours nervously. You press your chest to his while you reach past him for the fridge, pretending you don’t feel his breath stutter or the fingers that brush against your waist.

There’s another photo, just under the one he’d fixated on – it had been taken the same night, just last week in fact. A weeknight when the three of you had decided that bellinis and Breakfast Club could be the only cure to your end-of-semester stress. When Alisa had whipped out a cheap polaroid camera and demanded a photoshoot, when Suga had only been so glad to order delivery for more alcohol and raid your closet for stupid photoshoot outfits. When the three of you had gotten drunk and giddy enough for your newfound confidence – still shy and small and in no small way nurtured by the very man in front of you now – to make an appearance, encouraged in the whoops and hollers of your friends when they’d seen the new you come out.

When you’d climbed drunkenly into Alisa’s lap and let her take a sexy – incredibly blurry, but still sexy – snapshot of you, the memory of Suga cheering in the background while shaking his ass to the end track of Breakfast Club embedded in the glossy film of your smeared lipstick. 

You’d kept the photo, too in love with the memories that had come with it. But you think maybe it would belong better elsewhere.

“Here,” you say, pressing the front of the photo to his chest while you back away, watching with warm ears when he takes it but keeps his eyes on yours. “You can keep that one in your wallet, if you want.”

His eyebrows lift in surprise, but you turn away and move back down the hall before you can watch him look at it. 

Still, the hushed ‘holy shit’ echoes all the way to the foyer while you put your shoes on, and you bite down a laugh.

“Ready to go?” you call, tying up your sneakers and hearing Suna rush unsteadily out of the kitchen. 

“Y-Yeah, sorry,” he calls back distractedly. Glancing up through your lashes, heart pounding in your ears at your own courage, you catch as he tucks the photo away in his wallet, just behind his ID. He folds his wallet carefully and slips it in his front pocket, inked fingers still trembling slightly. 

You walk out after him, locking the door and following him down to the nearest bus stop. He can’t seem to decide if he should stand a friendly distance from you while you wait or if he should press his side against yours, so you linger closer to him to let him know it’s okay. He flushes but steps right up to you, facing you and using his frame to block the wind when he sees how you tense against it. 

You stand in a silence that’s somehow both comforting and unnerving, meeting his eyes and then looking away nervously. He just watches you, lips pulling into a fond smile every few moments before he remembers to smother it. He reaches out to you after a while, running cold fingers over your ears and tapping the tips of his fingers against your done-up hair, grinning when you give him an empty glare.

“I like these,” he mumbles, toying with your dangly pumpkin earrings. His thumb brushes over your jaw and then your cheek, and then he finally drags it lightly against your bottom lip, your lipstick coming off a little on his skin. “Pretty.”

You inhale sharply, head swimming with the feel of his fingers and the smell of him – of his clothes and his cologne. So gentle and warm, yet so goddamn overwhelming.

You look up at him through your lashes, parting your lips just slightly, and his eyes grow wide as he stares down at you. He blinks in surprise, and you’re not totally sure what’s just happened. But his thumb leaves your lip, and you find yourself turning toward it, chasing the feeling for just a moment longer. Chasing him for just a moment longer.

The sound of the bus turning the corner breaks the spell Suna Rintarou’s put you under.

You blink rapidly, taking a small step back and watching Suna swallow hard. His face is redder than you think the wind can be blamed for, but he just turns and holds a hand out to help you onto the bus. Your skin burns where it touches his, and you shyly show the driver your student ID before leading Suna down the aisle, his fingers interlacing with yours the moment you start to pull away.

He’s grinning to himself when you finally choose a seat. You roll your eyes but let him rest your hands in his lap. 

After a moment where he’s checking how many stops are left, he pulls out a pair of corded headphones, holding one out to you.

“Want me to show you my sick music taste?”

You laugh, thankful you’d chosen a seat in the back, because the way you’re looking up at him is nothing short of pathetic.

He unlocks his phone, but it opens immediately to a paused YouTube video of a famous Pokemon gamer streaming a playthrough. You lift your brows, staring up at Suna with knowing eyes. He flushes and hurries to close it out.

“Sorry,” he mutters. “I was watching it on my walk over to calm my nerves.”

You giggle and point down to his screen. “Put it on, then.”

He scoffs. “Yeah, okay.”

“No, really,” you insist. “Put it on. I wanna watch it.”

He turns to you with wide eyes. “There’s no way in hell you want to watch this.”

You roll your eyes and take his phone, rewinding the video a bit and pressing play. You try to catch up with all the new information while Suna just stares down at you. You hum after a second.

“So, it’s a Nuzlocke?” 

He doesn’t answer you, only blurting out, “You’re the girl of my dreams”. You laugh, glancing around the crowded bus before shaking your head and returning to the video.

“Yeah, you mighta mentioned that once or twice.”

–

The wind is sharp out in the middle of the pumpkin patch, but you can’t tell if your cheeks are red and stinging from that or from the sheer force of smiling so much.

Suna makes you laugh like it’s his job. He whispers quick one-liners in your ear or into your hair, smiling against the crown of your head when you hide your grin behind your hand.

He treats you like a princess, holding your hand so you don’t trip on the vines and uneven ground while you pick out a pumpkin to take home. He carries everything for you, despite your complaints, and makes a point of still holding your hand. 

And when you finally manage to find a large tote bag to shove all your souvenirs into – designated home pumpkin, popcorn, apple cider donuts, and a variety of knick knacks – he all but fights you for possession of it in the middle of the gift shop. You let him win, and as a reward, he keeps his chest pressed against your back while you wait in line for a short hay ride, one hand – fingers cold and rings colder – pressed to your waist under your cardigan, your skin pebbling under his touch.

He leans down to listen to you talk about nothing in particular, and you wonder, as the line trudges slowly along, if he realizes that his other arm is wrapped tight around you, his thumb hooked through one of your belt loops. You wonder if he realizes that the quiet push and pull of mutual nerves that had kept its hold on you all day is finally falling away, his comfort shown in the way he grabs and holds you like you’re his.

You wouldn’t mind that so much.

You finally reach the front, and he helps you up onto the hay ride, the two of you finding a little spot in the corner. Suna sets your bag between his knees but lets it sit right on his feet, the cloth tote never touching the floor of the wagon. You hum, watching him do it.

“Do you have sisters?”

He blinks, glancing at you in surprise. “A younger one, yeah.”

“Are you close with her?”

He smiles, still confused. “Sometimes…?”

You just laugh, looking away and taking in the view outside the ride. “I can tell. You don’t let bags touch the floor.”

He glances down at his feet. “I-” He laughs. “She told me it was bad luck. Smacked me over the head with her purse once.”

You grin fully, your cheeks hurting again, and shake your head. “Not tryna risk any bad luck today, Rinnie?”

He barks out a laugh, hiding his face in your hair when a couple glances back in amusement.

“I’m still not sure how I got you to like me,” he whispers against you. “I’m not risking shit.”

The ride stops outside of a large corn maze, and other people file off of the wagon slowly. You wait until it’s nearly empty to stand, taking him with you, but you stop him from leaving, pulling him back quickly and rising onto your tiptoes to whisper in his ear.

“You can afford to risk a little bit more.” 

And then you plant your lips on the corner of his mouth in a kiss so chaste that he barely has time to inhale before you’re gone. You hop off the ride on your own, taking off toward the maze. He calls after you loudly, laughing when you just disappear into a wall of corn.

You race through a whirlwind of corn stalks and trip over the uneven ground, hearing as Suna crashes into the maze behind you. Your heart jumps to your throat, and you lead him deeper into the middle of nowhere, accidentally scaring no fewer than three other groups of people and apologizing quietly while your name echoes behind you. 

You stop after a few minutes in a clearing, instantly regretting the decision to run and doing your best not to pass out right there. You barely hear him behind you, slowing to a stop and watching as you bend over to catch your breath.

“You lost, pretty girl?”

You jump, whirling on one foot, only to find Suna’s already crossed over to you. There’s a smudge of lipstick on the corner of his mouth.

“Okay, listen,” you start, laughing wildly as you back away. “Just listen for a sec-”

He grabs your outstretched hand and yanks you toward him, keeping you there with one arm wrapped around your waist.

“Did you mean that?” he asks, smiling as you try to wriggle free. “That I should risk more?”

“Okay, listen-” you laugh, pushing your hands against his chest. “I was just playing around-”

Suna’s mouth on yours tells you that he’s not.

The chills start in the crown of your head and wash down over you in an instant. Your heart stops in your chest, and when it starts again, it’s everywhere, all at once. His lip ring is cold on your mouth, but his lips are so unbelievably warm. And when he pulls away just enough to whisper to you, his breath triggers every nerve ending in your body.

“Fuck,” he whispers, breath unsteady in his chest. Your head swims at the feeling of his heartbeat under your fingers. “Was that okay?”

You can only nod, your vision hazy and your mind completely blank. He shuffles against you harshly, and you realize belatedly that your bag had slipped off his shoulder and he’d fumbled to catch it.

“Sorry,” he breathes. “Didn’t want to let it touch the ground.”

You stare up at him, wondering how you could have possibly gotten so lucky with Suna Rintarou.

You take his face in your hands, pushing your lips against his and swallowing the quiet whine he breathes into your mouth. 

He pulls you tight against him, and you push onto your tiptoes anytime he starts to lift too high, and he nearly drops you when you tug his lip ring between your teeth, your tongue passing nervously against it when he makes a sound that makes your toes curl. 

You only realize that maybe this isn’t totally appropriate for a family-friendly venue when you hear a family in the distance, trying to figure out the way out of the maze. You push against Suna’s chest, watching as he takes a moment longer to process what’s going on. When he does, all he can do is blink down at you dumbly. 

“Huh?” he breathes, face gradually burning a beautiful, rosy red that makes you want to do terrible things to this man.

You swallow your nerves.

“I think I’m ready to go,” you whisper, watching as confusion and then concern passes over his face. “If you’re ready to go.”

It clicks in an instant, and your heart skips when his eyes flick between yours before dropping to your lips, swollen and warm and completely his.

“Your place or mine?”

[wendichester]

Hello! Could I perhaps request the winchester of your choice (whoever you feel fits this situation best) x reader with an established relationship, where maybe it's an anniversary so he wants to make something special for you, like a special dinner in the bunker, the bedroom filled with candles and a bouquet of flowers, that sort of thing, because for once there isn't a case

EXCEPT: you haven't left the bunker all day, there's no reason to! You three finished a case the day before so you took this as a resting day since there wasn't any other case found, so! The brothers have to find a way to get one to keep you out till the evening, while the other rushes to get everything set up

I hope this isn't too detailed/unclear?? Tysm anyway if you write this!! I love your blog a lot <3

⋆𐙚 ₊ ° ⊹ ♡ anniversary surprise,

summary. dean wants to do something special for your anniversary

pairing. dean winchester x reader

wordcount. 963

notes. though i would also see sam doing something like this, it just screamed like dean behaviour. he's the softess little thing to me ‹𝟹

The bunker is unusually quiet for once—a rare luxury in the hunting life. After wrapping up a tough case yesterday, you've taken full advantage of the downtime. Still in your pyjamas, you've spent the day curled up on the couch with a book, refusing to even glance at your laptop.

Sam, however, hasn't been able to sit still. He keeps pacing the bunker, glancing at his phone like he's expecting bad news. It's distracting enough that you close your book and call him out.

"You trynna dig a hole in the ground or something, Sam? What's wrong?"

He freezes mid-step, looking at you like a deer caught in headlights. "What? Nothing! I'm fine."

You squint at him, unconvinced. “Sam, if you’re trying to avoid telling me about a case, just spit it out. I’m not leaving this bunker today unless something’s on fire.”

He stammers for a moment, clearly scrambling for an excuse. Then, his eyes light up like he's just had an idea. Oh, boy. "Uh, there's this event in town. A... a book signing. By an author I like. I thought it might be interesting, but I, uh, don't wanna go alone."

The confession catches you off guard. "A book signing?"

"Yeah," he says quickly, nodding like it's the most logical thing in the world.

You blink, momentarily caught off guard. Sam Winchester, shy about attending a book event? It doesn't quite add up, but you decide to let it slide.

You glance toward Dean, who's pretending to be engulfed in his phone and beer, but is clearly eavesdropping. He doesn't even look up, clearly uninterested.

"Alright, Sam," you say with a sigh. "I'll go with you."

Relief washes over his face, making the situation even more weird. "Great! Thanks."

The book signing ends up being more enjoyable than you expected. Sam is in his element, geeking out over the author’s latest release and chatting animatedly with other fans. You find yourself wandering through the bookstore, skimming through titles and enjoying the relaxed atmosphere.

Afterward, you grab coffee at a nearby café, the conversation flowing easily as you and Sam talk about everything and nothing. It’s a rare, peaceful moment—one you don’t take for granted.

By the time you return to the bunker, the sun has long since set, and the air carries a cool, crisp chill. Sam walks ahead, fishing in his pocket for the keys.

“Shoot,” he says suddenly, patting his jacket. “I think I left something in the Impala.”

You shrug, already halfway to the door. “Alright. I’ll meet you inside.”

The moment you step through the door, you stop in your tracks.

Rose petals are scattered on the floor, forming a delicate path that leads toward the kitchen. Soft, flickering candlelight spills into the hallway, and the faint scent of your favorite meal wafts through the air.

“Dean?” you call out, your voice trembling slightly.

“Over here,” he replies, his voice warm and inviting.

You follow the trail, your heart pounding in your chest. When you step into the kitchen, you’re met with a sight that takes your breath away.

The table is covered with a white cloth, set with actual plates and silverware instead of the usual mismatched collection. Candles are arranged in the center, their golden light casting a romantic glow over the room. Your favourite store-bought meal sits neatly plated, steam rising in the air.

Dean is leaning casually against the counter, a sheepish grin tugging at his lips. He’s wearing a button-up shirt instead of his usual flannel, the effort not lost on you.

“Happy anniversary, sweetheart,” he says softly.

Your stomach drops as guilt washes over you. You completely forgot.

“Dean,” you whisper, your eyes welling up. “I… I didn’t—”

“Hey,” he interrupts, pushing off the counter and walking toward you. He cups your face gently in his hands, his thumbs brushing against your cheeks. “It’s okay. I know you’ve been busy. This is my gift to you.”

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you stare up at him, his green eyes filled with nothing but love and understanding. “What did I do to deserve you?”

He smiles, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “I’m the lucky one to have you.”

You bite your lip, emotion threatening to overwhelm you, but Dean tugs you toward the table before it can. “Come on. Dinner’s getting cold.”

The meal is perfect, just like everything Dean does when he puts his mind to it. Between bites, you and Dean fall into easy conversation, laughter punctuating the air as you recount memories from the past year. The stress of the world melts away, leaving only the two of you in your little bubble of happiness.

After dinner, Dean takes your hand and leads you down the hallway. When he opens the door to your bedroom, your jaw drops.

The room is softly lit with more candles, their gentle glow highlighting a small table set up in the corner. A rich chocolate cake sits in the center, accompanied by a bottle of champagne and two glasses. The bed looks impossibly inviting, piled high with plush pillows and fresh sheets.

“You really outdid yourself,” you murmur, turning to him with wide eyes.

He shrugs, but the pleased grin on his face betrays his pride. “Only the best for my girl.”

Your heart swells as you step closer, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I love you, you know that?”

“I love you too,” he says, leaning down to kiss you.

The rest of the night is spent wrapped in Dean’s love and care, the perfect celebration of the life you’ve built together. For once, the world outside doesn’t matter—all that does is the warmth of his arms and the steady beat of his heart.

want be part of the taglist.ᐣ ⋆.˚ ★— @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing ⋆ @deans-daydream ⋆ @ariasong11 ⋆ @ambiguous-avery ⋆ @krabog ⋆ @itsdearapril ⋆ @nymphet-quenn ⋆ @bluemerakis ⋆ @titsout4jackles ⋆ @lyarr24 ⋆ @hauntedrose555 ⋆ @chevroletdean ⋆ @dulcescorderitas

[pleasureable]

Love Potions

Summary - Thanos was used to having girls throw themselves at him. As he got older, the feeling of simply using somebody for self-gratification became exhilarating for him. He never thought a girl could have him in a chokehold until he met you, pink haired and all.

Warnings - Mentions of weed, reader has pink hair again because yes, high school au, kinda short (2k word count, was too exhausted to make it any longer please forgive me), ooc thanos once again? please excuse any grammatical errors, not really proofread

A/N - Might be my last long piece on here for a little, I'll probably write some drabbles or head cannons here and there, though! Once again, thank you so much for all the love on Pink Goes Well with Purple, it warms my heart so much every time I see all the engagement on it.

Thanos never took anything, or anyone, seriously. Girls had always found him attractive, and halfway through his 7th-grade year, he realized he liked female attention. He had never genuinely liked someone, though. Every girl he decided to "pursue" was either too clingy or as he would put it, "too much of a cock-drunk bitch".

Knowing exactly how to play the game, he approached all his intended targets with feigned interest and used their obvious attraction to him to his advantage. He would stick around for a few days pretending to care about their likes and interests, then dump them like toxic waste once he got them into his bed. He loved how these girls would completely submit themselves to him, he loved how he could openly toy with them yet still have them begging for his love and affection.

Thanos loved the power.

He had woken up to his phone buzzing from its lying position on his nightstand. "20+ unread messages from Lindsey", the notification read. "Hop off my fuckin' dick, bitch" he mumbled in his groggy, half-awake state. He had gone to some random house party with his buddies the night before, all in hopes of getting totally shit-faced and finding some bimbo who would be willing to help him get his dick wet.

To his annoyance, friends of Lindsey's had taken candid photos of him swapping spit with some chick in a corner. He didn't care about Lindsey's feelings; he just didn't want to deal with her inevitable tantrum once she was informed of his actions. He was getting ready to dump her anyway as she was probably the clingiest of the girls Thanos had been with. Always going off on jealousy-fueled tangents regarding his flirty attitude toward other girls, always begging for him to "change his ways for her". Ha, in your fucking dreams.

Arriving at school, he was immediately greeted with the sight of her tear-stained face, "What the fuck were you doing last night, Thanos?! I saw you kissing some fucking bitch at that party last night!" She wept, though it clearly wasn't phasing him. Thanos wore a stone-cold expression as he walked through the halls of the high school with Lindsey hot on his trail. He spotted his history class and walked in, leaving her behind, the door closing firmly in her face.

The first few minutes of class went by in a blur, usual rambling from his teacher and stupid antics from his friends give a monotonous tone to his already shitty day.

Without warning, the classroom door swings open.

You walk in, clad in your black Aeropostale tracksuit, pink hair lightly curled with slightly red-rimmed glassy eyes. Students turn to look at you, some wearing an  expression reminiscent of admiration. "Oh! You must be Y/N", the teacher said. "Have a seat wherever, we were just getting ready to start class."

He couldn't help but check you out. To him, you were quite possibly the most beautiful, angel-like thing he had ever laid eyes upon. His eyes scanned you up and down, staring at the way your tits looked squeezed into your jacket, a small diamond-studded necklace with your initial resting perfectly between them. Miraculously, you opted to sit in the empty seat right in front of him. The smell of sweet perfume and hint of weed that clung to you was intoxicating, filling his nostrils and leaving him entranced.

You shattered Thanos' cocky facade in an instant, leaving his mind a complete blank. The fact that he felt a way no other person had ever made him feel before didn't go unnoticed by him, and he wasn't so sure he hated it. The chance to talk to you presented itself, and he immediately began racking his brain to figure out what to say; in the end, he settled on asking for something simple: a pencil.

"Hey señorita, you got a pencil I could borrow?" He asked. You turned your head and began to look at him over your shoulder, his breath hitched. Your eyes were breathtaking, everything about you was perfect. You pulled a pencil from the pocket of your sweatpants and handed it to him, your pretty manicured nails catching his eye. "You can keep it." You spoke, voice as soft as silk. The pink, glitter-ridden Hello Kitty pencil you handed him made him crack a smile, you were adorable.

You had just met him but even so, Thanos was already feigning for you. He wanted you, wanted to know what those pretty pink lips of yours taste like.

Class went by in a flash, the only thing Thanos recalled from the past hour was him admiring your curves through the openings on the back of the school chair. Once the bell rang, everyone began to exit the room. You left the classroom so swiftly that it was almost ghost-like, Thanos scrambled to leave as quickly as you did, not wanting to let you out of his sight. Just as he was about to follow you through the halls, his buddy caught up to him and grabbed onto his shoulder. "Yo T, that new girl? Fuckin' hot shit." His friend Nam-Gyu spoke. "Back off dude, I call dibs." Thanos said, jealousy apparent in his voice.

“What? Since when do we call dibs on girls?” Nam-gyu responded, his face twisting in confusion. Thanos never cared about girls enough to publicly claim them as his, but you were different. He could feel it.”Since now, man. She’s fuckin’ perfect, I don’t know what it is about her.” Thanos said, just the thought of you was already clouding up his thoughts in the best way possible. Nam-Gyu realized his friend was serious, he’d never seen Thanos act this way over anyone. As surprised as he was at his friend’s sudden new attitude, Nam-Gyu was still a tad bit annoyed he couldn’t have a piece of you. You were hot shit, after all. “Whatever, man.” Nam-Gyu huffed. 

The last thing Thanos really remembered from today was going into the boys bathroom to hide from Lindsey (and to smoke some weed), as she was still currently hunting him down like some deranged serial killer. He hadn’t seen much of you since history class, though he could probably blame that on the blunt he had hit. He remembered seeing slight flashes of pink throughout the day, but that’s about it. He kept a mental image of the way you looked at him when he asked for that pencil, your pretty, doe eyes were unforgettable. 

The next morning, for the first time in a very long time, Thanos felt like he had something to look forward to that day. Knowing he got to see you again was enough for him to get out of bed with the energy mimicking that of a little kid on an intense sugar-high. 

Once at school, he made b-lined for his history class. He was the very first student there but he didn’t care, all he cared about was getting to see that certain pink-haired angel walk in once again. As students began to pile into the class, he finally caught a glimpse of you. Your white lace camisole gave you an ethereal glow, complemented by the delicate, gold heart-shaped locket around your neck. Your fitted jeans accentuate your curves, and the subtle shine of your belly piercing added a touch of allure. Just as Thanos felt like you couldn’t get any better. 

Though, for obvious reasons, Thanos wasn’t the only boy who had his eye on you. Once you had sat down, his jaw began to tighten when he noticed Myung-Gi practically having a staring contest with your body. His pre-existing hatred for him only grew the longer Myung-Gi’s eyes lingered on you, a little green monster marking its territory inside of him. 

Thanos reached out his hand to tap your shoulder. “Hey, you got another pencil I could borrow?” he asked, a sheep-ish grin making its way onto his face. He realized the stupidity of his question but deep down, he just wanted to get a one-up on Myung-Gi. His breath hitched once more as you turned around to look at him. “What happened to the one I gave you yesterday? Lost it already?” You asked, “Lost? Nah, it’s just playing hard to get.” His dumb joke made you laugh a little, and to him, it was like pure music to his ears.

“Well if I give you another one will you lose it?” The flirty undertones of the conversation had begun making themselves apparent. While Thanos was pretty appealing, it was clear he was the kind of guy you wouldn’t necessarily want to be romantically involved with. Just because you wouldn’t date him didn’t mean you couldn’t have your fun with him, though. “If losing it means I get to talk to you again, then no promises, beautiful.” Thanos playfully replied, topping his sentence off with a wink. Cute, you thought. “Well then in that case, here you go, handsome.” You handed him another pencil, My Melody themed this time.

You two had spent the rest of the class period chatting, with the occasional scolding from your teacher for laughing just a little too loud. Once the bell had rang, Thanos stopped you in your tracks before you could exit the classroom, “Why don’t you give me your number so that we can hangout sometime, beautiful?” He asked. For maybe the first time in his life, Thanos The Great feared rejection. He had always thought of himself quite highly, but you were greater than every god or goddess that had ever lived. He didn’t want to mess this up.

You smiled. Reaching into your pocket, you pulled out a pink gel pen and swiftly wrote your digits down on the soft skin of his hand, to his relief. “Send me a text soon, grape jelly.” You shot him a playful glance before turning around and vanishing into the sea of people flooding the hallway. For a moment, he just stood there, admiring the neatly written numbers on his hand, his heart full. 

Upon his arrival home, Thanos immediately ran up to his room. Throwing himself onto his bed, his mind began to ponder on what to text you. His desperate need to have you was becoming unbearable for him, he needed more than just a conversation to fill the you-shaped hole in his heart. Just as his mind felt as if it was continuously falling into a seemingly endless hole of contemplation, his phone buzzed, signifying the arrival of a text. “You down to get high, grape jelly?” The text read, the stupid (but cute) nickname confirming your identity to him. It was as if his fingers had a mind of their own because in an instant, they began typing up a reply.

 “Of course, sweet thing. Where are we meeting?” 

“Meet me at the park near school in an hour.” You replied.

Excitement was all that was running through Thanos’s head at the thought of spending alone time with you. You were completely and utterly heaven sent.

He began to blast music while laying on his bed, just staring at the ceiling in an attempt to pass time. He continued to fantasize about you, everything about you. Your angelic facial features, your body, your voice. The way you looked at him for the first time. He hadn’t known you for even a week, yet already you were making him feel things that girls he’d known for years had never even come close to making him feel. 

Laying there, in his current state of rumination, Thanos realized this was the closest he had ever come to feeling peace in a very long time. 

When enough time had passed, he snapped out of his thought-induced daze and began to make his way downstairs. Being careful not to wake his parents up, he unlocked the backdoor to his house and shut it behind him, starting to make his way to the designated meet up spot. As soon as he started approaching the park, he noticed a silhouette sitting down at a dimly-lit bench. Getting closer, he recognized the unusually colored hair. 

“Hey, beautiful.” He called out. You looked up from your phone screen to see that now-familiar purple headed man. “Hi.” You responded, a gentle smile taking its place on your face. You passed Thanos the already lit joint in your hand once he took a seat on the bench next to you. He took a hit, paused briefly as the smoke lingered in his lungs, then exhaled, letting the thick cloud roll from his mouth. Taking turns passing the joint amongst yourselves, a peaceful ambience fell upon you both. A sense of calm wrapped around your mind, pushing away the slight nerves you were previously feeling caused by the idea of being alone with Thanos. “I like you, Thanos.” You spoke, the marijuana giving you the courage to speak your mind freely.

“I’ve had my eye on you ever since you got here, beautiful. You’re breathtaking.” He responded. You turned to look at him, tilting your head slightly. “So that’s what the flirty attitude was about?” Giggling, it was all starting to make sense to you. “Of course. Just look at you.” He began to scoot closer, maintaining eye contact. Your pretty, red-rimmed eyes looking up at him made him smile. The sense of euphoria was almost palpable, as if the air itself buzzed with an electric warmth, wrapping you both in a blanket of bliss and exuding a feeling of weightlessness.

Thanos had gotten so close to the point where the tips of your noses were touching. Your current situation felt like a dream, a dream which you didn’t want to wake up from. Your eyes flickered down to his lips, heart racing as the air between you seemed to grow thicker, filled with an unspoken sexual tension. “K-kiss me, please.” You whispered, the need to feel his mouth on yours becoming hard to endure. He pressed his lips to yours, his breath warm against your skin. The kiss deepened, his lips parting slightly to explore yours slowly, sending a shiver down your spine. His hand slid to the back of your neck, gently pulling you closer, the intensity building with every second that passed.

As you pulled away, both of you were left breathless, your lips tingling and a bit swollen from the intensity of the kiss, cheeks flushed. “You’re good at kissing,” you said, feeling a bit dizzy from the lip-locking. “I could say the same thing about you, pretty girl.”

You ignited a fire within Thanos, and its cause was inexplicable. Maybe it was your friendly and gentle nature that drew him to you, but whatever the case was, you made him want to be better. You had him under a love potion, and he wasn’t planning on breaking the spell anytime soon.

[ammstify]

So I wanted to (for funsies!) throw in my two scents as a moot who has been involved in the Arcane fandom, but like not a vocal member other than some reblogs?

[THIS IS A LONG ONE APOLOGIES :'3] One of the biggest discourses currently right now, in the fandom, besides some of the fumbling with the more politically intricate storytelling, is COMPLETELY about the fact that the two male characters, Viktor and Jayce (Jayvik), are being shipped at all. Quite a few people have harassed fans and folks for merely suggesting the idea, some being hardcore straight shippers of Jayce and Mel (Jaymel), while others are (sadly) the shippers of the lesbian couple Caitlyn and Vi (or Caitvi).

At lot of this is focusing on the insistence of what is "canon", with many folks putting jayvik shippers down for that, along with viewing them as "degenerates" or "gross straight women fetishizing gay men" or "ignoring the canon lesbian ship willfully", which is all.... Just wrong.

A lot of the fans I've seen are queer, with one of my favorite artists @/hexhomos, being a trans man who prior to Arcane, has extensive HISTORY about shipping the League of Legends versions of Viktor and Jayce, but also minimally Cait and Vi. There are also other artists who are trans, lesbians, nonbinary, and many other forms of queer too, so the statement of it being just "straight women" or "degenerates" just... Bothers me so hard.

Hell, even I'M QUEER, and happily ship Viktor and Jayce, because their story was intrinsically romantic to me and reminded me of the soulmates sort of relationship Vash and Wolfwood have in Trigun.

And truthfully, it sucks that they can't be canon like Cait and Vi, who also have a very interesting, complicated, and beautiful relationship where the fight but work together to fix things. It makes me happy though that fans from League, or those who began with Arcane did get to see these ladies finally be together in animation, and trust me I was on the edge of my seat waiting for their first kiss and first time together!

And, it also sucks you don't see much of them, because you kinda have to brave through Tumblr or Bluesky's algorithmic waters to find content of them! Which in turn, creates this false view that folks are lifting the (mostly) noncanon gay relationship above the canon lesbian relationship and making them seem more important, which in turn makes many fans of Caitvi, or lesbian/female fans feel lesser represented. But it shouldn't have to be that way!

As for Jayce and Mel [MINOR SPOILERS], I did ship them before S2 and its ending, and realized in episode 6 that the two of them basically had broken up! They vocally disagree with each other, and while it isn't spelled out, they're no longer romantically or sexually interested in one another, and decided to simply go forward as allies in war, and continue their lives focusing on their goals.

And lastly, for the insistence it's not canon well... It's not my fault that the writers made a seemingly queer-like, romantic, soulmate relationship between two men, who's lives are entwined in every universe. Like if you made Viktor a woman, or switched him with Mel, pretty much everyone would go "OH MY GOD ITS ROMANTIC!"

But yeah, there's my two cents. It sucks to see that people view only straight or lesbian relationships as more "okay" (especially only if the latter is considered 100% canon, cause trust me, some folk in this world try to insist vi is bisexual and into jayce/men to this day), and I hope that one day we CAN have both f/f and m/m relationships further normalized in media and taken more seriously alongside m/f relationships and other queer relationships.

(also for the fanfic well... A majority of mainstream content usually is centered around M/F ships, but I'm genuinely shocked that F/F fanfic is so low... I guess its just more popular in the fanfic sphere to write M/M fanfic :'3)

reblog if you prioritize women to the point you mock people for liking m/f or m/m ships. im insane

[please-read-the-manga]

Was thinking about an 'alternate universe' where a young Sasuke, in the absence of guidance on how to carry out his clan traditions, tries to connect to his fractured identity by spending time in the Naka Shrine and accidentally summons the ghost/spirit of Izuna who hears his cries of injustice and grief from the other side.

Truthfully, I don't know why it would be Izuna in particular, but I'm kind of playing around with the idea that his death was viewed as so unjustifiable and horrific by Madara that Madara's devastation over it prevented Izuna's spirit from properly/completely passing over into the Pure Lands. So, Izuna's spirit remains in this unaware-but-restless state and one day it materializes to answer the call of another Uchiha (who also just so happens to be an Indra transmigrant, like Madara, if we want to go there... maybe their emotions carry extra weight and power within the spiritual world) now trying to process his own unimaginable grief, this time over the death of his entire family, bloodline, and culture. Thus they become bound to one another (for better or worse) and Izuna is, from then on, always there, carried by (and only visible to) Sasuke on his journey...

Maybe they both come to believe that if they get justice for the clan (which they initially believe is by killing Itachi, 'the kinslayer') then Izuna will finally be freed and Sasuke will have done right by his family and avenged them. But really, I think what would actually be keeping Izuna 'stuck' is the plan that evolved (at least partially) from Madara's grief over his death, Project Tsukuyomi... thus their quest expands and the two then need to figure out how to alleviate Madara's guilt/sense of loss over Izuna's death and rekindle his feelings of hope in the world once more (ie. stopping the plan). Somehow, lol.

And I think Izuna would be a fun character to do with this with because there's so little we truly know about him, but so much we can infer due to his impact on other characters' actions/story events.

Idk, in my opinion there's just a lot of opportunity here for a good mix of heart and comedy, especially with Izuna as a more defined character that has a little more freedom than other characters to be molded. I also think having someone Sasuke can connect to, that's from his clan (but is also still deceased and a reminder of how alone he is, ie. end of the day Izuna is still a ghost, an ancestral relic of the now-dying clan) would have a profound effect on him.

It'd almost be like his own inner Kurama voice except Izuna provides no chakra or power amps, only scathing commentary on how much he hates the injustices of the village (and its Senju leadership) lol. Also, I like to think his reactions to all the in-universe stories about 'Madara's deeds' (which is really Obito) would be entertaining.

A sketchy comic since I like the idea so much haha:

[illbegottenfaith]

cinnamon girl

after years of keeping your distance from the one boy who probably wants you dead, you have an unexpected encounter with mattheo at hogsmeade (mattheo riddle x muggleborn!reader)

a/n - decided to try something new! I had more of this fic planned but lost interest a little (a theo girlie through and through rip) but I might eventually write it all out so we'll see :))

tropes/warnings - muggleborn!reader, tw smoking, tw alcohol, idk if its fluff or angst tbh hmmm

word count - 1.4k

“Need a light?”

You looked up from where you had been rifling through your pockets, searching for your lighter. You glanced at the voice behind you, nearly dropping your cigarette in the snow.

You were at The Three Broomsticks with your friends who had dragged you for a night out to celebrate the end of your midterms - yours and the rest of the school’s, from the looks of the crowd there. As well-meaning as they were, it hadn’t taken long for the warm, honeyed air of the pub to begin feeling stifling, and you had excused yourself for a bit of fresh air.

If you were completely honest, you couldn’t bear hearing about their plans after graduation for a minute longer. You decided that taking a break outside would be better than brooding over the loneliness stabbing your gut, even if it was dreadfully freezing outside. Still, the cold considerably perked you up as you fumbled for your cigarette pack.

Smoking was a vice you didn’t regularly succumb to, and it was one that your friends disapproved of, but trying times called for trying measures. It had been this way for as long as you could remember - you felt lost and woefully untethered, strung between both worlds as you didn't seem to quite fit either. You couldn't settle on what kind of career you wanted to pursue, magical or muggle, let alone where you wanted to set up your life.

It wasn’t your friends' fault, you decided. They didn’t realise they had the privilege of thinking up a life after Hogwarts. You were just trying your best to not be hunted for sport, especially when the people doing the hunting were the likes of Mattheo Riddle.

You hadn't noticed the pair of brown eyes intently tracking you as you slipped out of the pub's door. He had been staring into the bottom of his third firewhiskey, his friends' guffaws like a pallid echo in his ears, thinking about how this was the last semester he could take refuge in Hogwarts. After that, real life would kick in in ways he could not run from.

That was when you had squeezed past his table - you, the girl that he found oh so curious, who had held his interest for more years than he'd like to admit. There was an endearing simplicity in the way you approached the magical world with your muggle-leaning tendencies which he found dreadfully appealing. And like with everything he truly treasured, he held you at further than arm's length.

His head had snapped up as you muttered an apology, and he had watched you make your way to the door with half a mind to call after you. In his inebriated state of mind, this was enough to be a sign.

It didn't help that you were a jumpy person by nature when the person you had offhandedly been thinking about seemingly materialised out of thin air. For a moment, you forgot to breathe. You broke into a cold sweat as your mind raced. Did he know? Could he tell, just by looking at you, that you were the worst kind of imposter, at least in his eyes?

No, you were being ridiculous. There was no way he'd know you were a muggleborn. You were dressed just like everybody else. It wasn't as though you had mudblood scrawled across your forehead. Besides, even if he did know, he wasn't about to try anything right in front of a pub chock full of witnesses.

Still, his presence made you uneasy.

Nervously, you acquiesced, leaning forward as he flicked the lighter on. As you took your first drag, you distantly noted that something about this felt...off.

"Thanks."

He pulled out a cigarette for himself. "Anytime."

The two of you smoked in silence, watching your twin streams of smoke curl in the frigid air.

"So," Mattheo said after a beat, "big plans tonight?"

You shook your head. "Not really," you replied. "Just...celebrating the end of midterms."

"Ah. Yes," he said, his lips curling into a faint, almost insincere smile. "Your last midterms. Mazel tov." He distractedly scraped at a scuffed patch of ice near the pub's door. "Must feel good to have something worth celebrating."

Even as your heart thudded, you dared to cast a sidelong glance at him. You felt half-inclined to tell him to step back from the ice. If you didn't know any better, you'd say he sounded bitter.

You glanced back at the beckoning warmth and murmuring bustle of the pub. You found yourself wishing you had stayed in that night.

"Yeah," you said, in a voice that sounded hollow even to your own ears. "I guess."

If you were a little less nervous, you might have noticed Mattheo looking at the fragile snowflakes littering your hair. One last semester of taking refuge in watching you carefully pour maple syrup over your pancakes a couple tables over every morning. He took a long drag of his cigarette, firmly shoving down the unwelcome anxiety creeping into his mind. Who knew when he'd see you again? Who knew what kind of state you'd be in if he did see you again?

He tilted his head, studying you with an intensity that made your stomach twist. “Guess you’ve got it all figured out, then. Your plans after Hogwarts, I mean. Places to be, dreams to chase. You strike me as the type.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the comment. It didn’t feel like a compliment.

"I don't," you were saying before you could stop yourself.

Mattheo quirked an eyebrow.

"No?"

You swallowed hard. You tapped your cigarette, watching the ash fall into the snow as you avoided his gaze.

"I don't - I haven't made any plans yet. It didn't seem..." you sighed, pushing back a limp lock of hair that was falling into your face. "...prudent."

Mattheo's lips parted imperceptibly, as if he had stumbled across some revelation.

"Prudent," he echoed with a softer edge to his voice.

You nodded, fidgeting with your jacket zipper.

"Well," you said eventually, shifting your feet. "this was nice." You put out what was left of your cigarette. "Thanks for the light."

You started to walk back inside.

"Wait."

You paused, turning back. There was an urgency laced in his voice that gave you pause, that made you stay for reasons beyond your comprehension. His face was pale and almost sickly-looking, awash with moonlight. He'd clearly drunk more than he should have, if his mildly unsteady swaying was any indication.

"I wasn't done talking to you," he said clumsily, as if to make up for the momentary vulnerability.

"Bold words coming from someone who stole my lighter."

Only as the words were leaving your mouth did it occur to you that perhaps it would not be wise to accuse Mattheo of petty theft. But you couldn't help it - you had realised his lighter was yours sometime during your conversation, something you were prepared to take to the grave if he hadn't stopped you. Yes, it was just a stupid, sticky, barely working lighter, but it was yours. It was certainly nothing worth antagonising a Riddle over, but here you were.

But before the regret could swoop in, something else did - or rather, someone else. He took half a step towards you, throwing his face into the shadows.

"You noticed?" he asked, with a wicked gleam in his eye.

You ignored the stuttering of your pulse. "Obviously."

His lips twitched like your answer secretly delighted him. You didn't feel so scared of him anymore.

Under the dark of the awning, away from the streetlights lined along the pavement, Mattheo bent down and kissed your chapped, half-bitten-to-death lips. That was when you learnt Mattheo Riddle could be unassumingly gentle.

"Good night," he murmured as he pulled away.

He stepped back, taking with him his warmth, leaving the chilly air to nip at your nose. Unthinkingly, you raised a hand to your lips, as if in disbelief. He tasted of cinnamon, of a warmth resilient enough to thaw your frozen bones.

As he disappeared back inside the cosy pub, you felt a familiar weight in your pocket, one that you had been so desperately looking for.

You hadn't even thought to push him away.

[fangirl-rose1029]

Bookworm & the Prince

Pairing: Fiyero x neutral!Reader

A/N’s: After seeing Wicked. Fiyero aka Mr. Jonathan Bailey has been living rent free in my mind 🫠 This is my first time ever posting any of my writing on tumblr that is. I’ve written before on FanFiction but it’s been awhile. Please let me know what you think!

Summary: Reader enjoys spending their time in the library, Fiyero tries to make things more fun and interesting but it ends up backfiring on him.

Warnings: None really. Just fluff and a lot of flirting/teasing.

The Shiz University library was usually a quiet sanctuary for Y/N. It was their refuge from distractions, filled with books that demanded attention instead of loud voices and obnoxious flirting. Unfortunately, distractions had a way of finding you— particularly when they had a royal title and a smirk that refused to quit.

You needed one more book for your paper on ancient magic, but of course, the one you needed was on the highest shelf. You stood on your tiptoe, reaching as high as you could, but the book was just out of your grasp.

“Need a hand?”

You turned to see none other than Prince Fiyero leaning casually against one of the bookshelves, watching you with an amused expression. His signature grin was already in place and his eyes twinkled with mischief.

You sighed and let your arm drop, not bothering to turn around. “I’m fine, Fiyero.”

“Doesn’t look like it,” Fiyero said, appearing at your side. He glanced at the book you were trying to reach and grinned. “You know bookworm, you could just admit you need. I wouldn’t tell anyone.”

“Because your ego isn’t inflated enough already?” You shot back, still refusing to look at him.

Fiyero chuckled. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Before you could protest, he reached up and plucked the book from the shelf with ease. But instead of handing it to you, he brought it behind his back, leaning casually against the shelf with one hand holding the book out of sight.

You narrowed your eyes, turning to face him fully, “Really?”

“Really,” he said, his grin widening. “This is way more fun than just giving it to you.”

You stepped closer, reaching for the book, but Fiyero moved quickly. Using his free hand, he gently but firmly pressed his palm against your shoulder, holding you back just enough to stop you.

“Ah ah,” he teased, shaking his head. “That’s cheating.”

“You are insufferable,” you said, your voice flat, though the spark of amusement in your eyes betrayed your true feelings.

“I’ve been called worse,” he quipped.

You huffed and tried to dart around him, but Fiyero shifted, keeping the book firmly behind his back and blocking her with his body. His other hand lifted to stop you again, hovering near your arm.

“Fiyero,” you warned, stepping closer, “you’re going to regret this.”

“Oh, I doubt that,” he said smoothly, his eyes locking with yours. “You’re going to have to do better than that if you want this.”

You paused, tilting her head and regarding him for a long moment. Then, with a sudden burst of movement, you reached behind him, your fingers brushing his as you tried to snatch the book.

Fiyero laughed stepping back and raising the book high above his head, well out of your reach, “Nice try.”

“You’re such a child,” you said, glaring at him.

“Come on, bookworm, play along,” he said, his voice smooth and teasing. “You spend all your time buried in books. Don’t you want a little fun?”

You rolled your eyes, “What’s fun about this, Fiyero?”

“Everything,” he said with a wink.

You narrowed your eyes, then tilted your head slightly, a smile playing at your lips. “Oh, I see. You think you’ve got the upper hand, don’t you?”

“I know do,” he smugly.

Your smile widened, and you stepped closer, your voice dropping into something softer, more playful. “Well, then I guess I’ll just have to convince you to give it to me.”

Fiyero blinked, caught off guard by the shift in demeanor. “Convince me, huh? I’d love to see you try.”

You moved even closer, until there was barely a breath of space between them. Her gaze locked on his, her voice low and teasing.

“Do you really want to play this game, Fiyero? Because I don’t think you’re ready for me.”

For the first time, his grin faltered, replace by a flicker of uncertainty. But it was gone as quickly as it came, and he leaned down slightly, meeting her challenge. “Oh, I’m ready love.”

You smirked, your fingers brushing his arms as you leaned just enough to peek behind his back, pretending to make a grab for the book. “Are you sure about that? Because you seem a little distracted.”

Fiyero’s laugh was nervous but amused as he shifted the book to his other hand and lifted it high above his head. “Nice try.”

You laughed softly, your tone still playful. “I don’t know, Fiyero. You look like you’re struggling to keep up.”

“Oh, I’m doing just fine,” he said, lifting the book even higher,

You raised your eyebrow, stepping even closer, your hand trailing lightly up his arm. “You are so confident,” you murmured, your voice sweet. “But confidence can be dangerous, you know.”

Fiyero’s breath hitched slightly, and his eyes flickered to your hand before darting back to your face. “Dangerous, huh?”

“Mm-hmm,” you said, your lips curving into a slow smile. “It makes you underestimate your opponent.”

Your hand brushed lightly against his wrist, and for a moment, he hesitated. You used that hesitation to slide your fingers towards the book, but he caught on at the last second, pulling it back with a triumphant laugh. “Not bad,” he admitted, stepping back, his grin returning. “But not good enough.”

You let out a mock sigh, tapping your chin as if in deep thought. Then you stepped closer again, your tone dropping to a whisper. “You know Fiyero, I could make this worth your while.”

His eyebrows shot up, his grin faltering again. “Worth my while?”

You tilted your head, your eyes sparkling with amusement. “You did say you wanted to have fun, didn’t you? Maybe we could…negotiate.”

Fiyero blinked, clearly unsure if she was serious. “Negotiate?”

You nodded, stepping even closer until they were almost chest to chest. Your fingers brushed his other hand lightly, drawing his attention just long enough for you to dart your other hand toward the book. You grabbed it, but his grip tightened before you could pull it away.

“Oh no,” he said, his grin returning as he leaned down, his voice low. “You’re not getting it that easily.”

Your smirk widened, your fingers curling more tightly around the book. Your other hand placed on Fiyero’s chest as you leaned in, your faces now inches apart.

“Who said anything about easy?” You said, in a low teasing tone.

Fiyero’s gaze flicked to your lips for a fraction of a second, and in that moment, his grip slackened just enough. You yanked the book free, taking a quick step back with a triumphant laugh.

“Gotcha,” you said, holding the book up like a trophy.

Fiyero stared at you, stunned for a moment, before letting out a low chuckle. “You’re dangerous, you know that?”

You shrugged, your smile innocent. “You’re the one who started it,”

He shook his head, a crooked grin on his face.

“Fine, you win this round. But don’t think I’m letting you off so easily next time.”

You turned, walking back to your table with the book in hand. “We’ll see about that, Prince Charming.”

As you sat down, Fiyero call after you, “Admit it, you had fun!”

You didn’t answer, but the sly smile on your face said everything he needed to know.

[fiber-optic-alligator]

hello... hi... im a long time transformers fan (as in. I liked the comics and the silly little toys for a long time) and by sheer chance stumbled onto this side of tumblr and it was like all of my neurons lit up at once. didnt even know i was into half this stuff until i stumbled upon your fics. I'm quite new at using tumblr to find fics / written works (and the search system seems to suck), so I was wondering if you could share any fellow writers who make these sort of fics, or that you like in general? Thank you for your time and for the wonderful writing!

HELLO! Awww, I’m so glad you enjoy what I write! I have to be honest, it took me a while to find this side of the TF community as well! I had no idea it existed literally until a few years ago lmao! Here are some awesome blogs that write/talk about similar things to what I post! They also have a lot of original content, OCS, and other fun interests besides TF that I think anyone who sees this will enjoy too!!!

@callsign-relic

@tripleglitchwriting

@chamelanon

@malewife-overlord

@pinkanonwrites

@bizarre-disjointed

@mskenway97

@michaela-o

There are more of course! Feel free to explore the community!!! And thank you again for the support! :D

[ghost-bxrd]

Hi that ground hog day Jason prompt has me in a head lock. The absolute angst and trauma the batfam will experience. Especially the first time before the loop resets with Dick, Bruce and Alfred who have already lived through Jason's first death. The bad memories this will stir up. You could go for extra angst, since Jason's death into he first loop probably wasn't intentional and go with the classic bomb in in warehouse for an extra guy punch. Just really drive all the bats to the brink of their remaining sanity.

Then you look at the fun Jason gets to have, with all the different ways he can kill the joker. Like, you could have some really jaring and comedic tone switches with the pov switches.

Just, I am so looking forward to anything you bless us with from this idea.

The first thing I just thought of was the song Headlock by Imogen Heap and I think it’s funny cuz it sorta fits the differing POV of this particular groundhog AU pretty well hehe

Alrighty! So, I most likely won’t be writing a fic for this, but I do have some plot points written down as some food for thought/inspiration ✨

!!! Considering the mechanics of this particular prompt please mind that these include mentions of suicide !!!

A stranger cryptically tells Jason they’re gonna do him a favor and create a time loop for him ((this could happen in some random supermarket while he’s getting spaghetti. So… the usual Gotham weirdness. Nothing to be concerned about quite yet))

Going with the first death being accidental and happening at a warehouse, we could add to it by having it be a malfunction of Jason’s helmet. Like the detonators being triggered by a stray kick or bullet ((or batarang))

For Jason it’s an instant reset of the day. The Batfam have to experience an hour post Jay’s death before everything starts anew.

Bruce usually spends that hour cradling Jason’s body the way he did after Ethiopia

The first time the day resets the Batfam just think they had a spectacularly bad dream and keep everything to themselves. Jason spends all of ten minutes in a daze, and then he starts making a list of all the things he wants to do to Joker

Jason tends to opt for quick ways to kill himself at the end of each day. Usually as soon as Joker is dead, because that’s when he loses interest. And because he doesn’t want to deal with the fallout. Unfortunately the Batfam assume that all they need to do to end the loops is to keep Jason away from Joker and any explosives.

The batfam start reading into every interaction they have/had with Jason and become increasingly frantic trying to convince Jason that life is great and worth living. Jason is confused. And annoyed. Mostly because it’s becoming increasingly difficult to steal away from them.

By the time the loop finally ends for good, Joker has resolved to stay tf away from any and all Robins forever. He’ll go work at friggin seven-eleven and become an upstanding citizen as long as the Red Hood just STAYS AWAY from him. He regrets many of his life decisions.

Bruce has a full blown meltdown when he realizes that Jason is actively killing himself. Dick isn’t far behind.

Alfred tries to end the loop by sedating Jason, but the loop resets anyway

The batfam are feverishly looking for the catalyst that keeps driving Jason over the edge. Meanwhile Jason is having the time of his life and healing some of his trauma.

The longer the loop continues the more Jason takes notice of how frequently the batfam tell him they love him, and his focus starts shifting from Joker to spending time with them. Telling them things he never would if he didn’t think they’d forget it anyway.

Heartfelt talks and, eventually, teary begging from a batfam member for Jason to please not die again because they can’t take any more. And Jason’s horrified realization of what he accidentally put the batfam through.

[fccloveii]

Eren Jeager's Masterlist

🗝!! ✧✦. (¡¡Non of the works archieved here are mine!!)

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Hello!! I hope that everyone who read this are doing great!!

Today I decided to post a masterlist of all my favorite eren jaeger fanfics/one-shots I have ever read. I'm mostly doing this because I felt like some of this masterpieces deserved much more attention, moreover I realize that most of the writing under eren's hashtag were about smut, degradation, eren being toxic, etc. And it was getting quite tiring. Therefore I figured I could make my own masterlist and share to the world my amazing findings.

You’re free to comment recommendations if you have any too!! (not but fr I have read everything and I need more 🥲)

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• THIRTEEN by emefaerie (wattpad and ao3)

By far the best fanfic I have ever read. Not only because of the plot (which is amazing, the author is a genius) but the writing is to die for and the characters are soo well written. Everything about this book is perfect!! It covers from childhood friends to lovers, to enemies to lovers, to strangers to lovers and is just amazing!! And the way that the main 2 ache for eachother leaves with nothing but to wish that a love like that finds you.

• COMRADES by emefaerie (wattpad and ao3)

I love this author so much you guys have no idea, this was my favorite story for soo long. Like I said the writing is from another world. Emotions are so well descripted and the way that the author managed to fit the reader in such a complete way in the original plot from the anime is literally perfect. The relationship of the main 2 is such a roller coaster of emotion that you never stop to want more. Emefaerie never dissapoints.

• To love a liar by butterflytint (wattpad)

Kind of reminds me of parasite but is also so different at the same time. The writing is also spectacular and the emotions are so well descripted. The hurt/comfort in here is literally perfect and the slowburn is amazing.

• For you by simp4eren (wattpad)

Soo so good!! The slowburn is also amazing and the topics are also described perfectly. This one was like my second favorite fanfic of eren, literally perfect!!

• CAMGIRL by D1CKTATED (wattpad)

Sadly is not yet finished and the chapters are pretty short but the build up is exciting!! The relationship between the main characters is really interesting too and the plot leaves you wanting more.

• method acting by @seeingivy (tumblr and ao3)

Also a childhood friends to lovers (I'm a sucker for those). Perfect way to write emotions and her eren is literally one of my favorite one. The plot is soo good and jealousy is everything in this fic. Describes everything that happens in the acting industry so well that you feel like you’re in it. Soo so good!!

• Just a friendly kiss by princess_okkotsu (ao3)

Fluff, fluff and fluff. This one-shot heals every angst of all the books before mentioned. Is short but is worth reading. And is perfect because is a best friends to lovers (my favorite trope tbh)

• Easy, baby by prettyboykatsuki (ao3)

Childhood friends to lovers in all its glory (also a one-shot). So well written and the tension is just ughhh. I just wish he was real.

• Hate you too. by Kuro_no_Ai_Hime (ao3)

Enemies to lovers!! Mostly a two-shot centered in smut but the plot is also really good. The tension between the two is also to die for. I also love this one because is not a modern au and it happens during the scouts, and those are my favorite type of fanfic. (Can you believe that this was published before season 2 and 3 like omg)

• Serendipity by aspynxcea (ao3)

What a book, holy shit. The slowburn is perfect and it kind of like a “she felt first, he felt harder” but also a enemies to lovers. Emotions here are also pretty well written and the drama fits really well into the plot. Love this book!!

─────────────────────

Hope you all send love to this amazing authors and if you have any recommendation please let me know!! (Preferably a childhood/best friends to lovers)

🤍.

[doberbutts]

Hey man, I really appreciate you sharing your perspective about being a man, being Black, and being told whether you're allowed to speak or not. It's interesting to me as a white transmasc to see how our experiences differ and I like learning and being aware of how others are treated, often unfairly, because of it, especially since I don't want to further that treatment. It is genuinely appreciated to hear about.

I think a lot of people get caught up in categorizing people into easy-to-digest groups, and while it's useful sometimes when discussing how certain demographics are treated or can treat others, it's also often used to stereotype individuals based on something they have no choice in being. And when it comes to intersecting identities, race, gender, etc, there's no way people actually think a Black man is treated as a man the way a white man is, let alone a trans man who can have his identity disregarded by any bigot when convenient.

I'm just surprised how many people wrongly took your posts to mean "men should always be allowed to speak about other people's experiences" and then promptly admit to speaking all over your experiences as a trans and Black person anyway. Of course there are times to listen instead, nobody said there wasn't. But sometimes listening involves being uncomfortable and it would do some people well to think about why it makes them uncomfortable before arguing against it.

I apprecaite the kind words!

Unfortunately white discomfort with black truth is a common enough phenomenon that I neither let it impact my writings nor do I give a shit if me speaking my truth has made a white person uncomfortable. Is it a hard pill to swallow that I'm taking white people to task for forgetting that I was raised as a black girl before beginning adulthood as a black man and I'm not willing to forgive them for the racism they showed to me then or even now? Good. Choke. Squirm. Because you're (they're) still going to hear what I have to say.

But it is quite interesting to me that this blog is mostly just about my experiences and people find ways to twist themselves into knots to be angry that I'm talking about something that happened directly to me.

I will not sit down and shut up because I have had enough people tell me to do that when I was a girl and because I'm black and I sure as shit am not going to tolerate it as an adult. Don't like it? Unfollow button's at the top, buhbye!

[lifeseries-ttrpg]

3rd Life TTRPG project Interest check!

Heya folks!

Admin Excel here to announce the official opening of Life series TTRPG project's Tumblr page! This will be your place to get all the updates regarding applications, timeline of the project, as well as ask any questions you may have regarding the project.

Today I also opened the interest check, so if you could take a while to fill it out, that's be wonderful!

Link to the interest check

Some more information that you might be interested in:

The project will most likely focus on reinterpreting 3rd Life as a TTRPG. If it goes well, I have plans for turning next seasons into their own manuals - however I think it's best if we take it one season at a time, to not overwhelm ourselves.

There is no solid date for anything just yet. I'm a college student and my schedule is pretty tight lately. The only thing I can say for sure is that if everything goes well, contributor applications will most likely open mid-late February. If you follow this page, this will be the first place where you'll get all the updates!

Until then, the interest check will be open so that you can submit your ideas. You can also drop them in the question box here and I'll try to answer as many of them as I can! There will also be a post in the future where I'll answer some of the suggestions/ideas/question that were submitted via the interest check.

So far, the project is in a brainstorming phase. I have quite a few ideas for characters, scenarios, mechanic and the overall shape of the manual - but this is why I'm turning this into a collaborative project, so that more people can show off their amazing writing and/or drawing skills and contribute. The more the merrier!

That's it for now! I'll probably make a pinned post about any important information as soon as they come up! Don't hesitate to ask any questions about the project!

[xzyolotl]

Can you loredump about some of your OCs? [Maybe Roeland + Markos?]

Okay, I can write a bit about my characters. I am bad at writing things down so this is a good excuse to do so.

Markos and Roeland are characters from my Plasticity project. The worldbuilding of Plasticity isn’t very developed, as I don’t really have any fancy plans for it beyond character designs and silly pictures. But there are some details I can share:

The world of Plasticity is a post-apocalyptic Earth where creatures made of microplastics have taken the place of humans.

The project originally started with lowpoly [ crystalline alien characters, ] but I wanted to create a population of creatures for them to mess with for silly alien shenanigans, and with the nature of 3D imagery, I wanted them to look quite a bit different as well.

The inhabitants of Plasticity think cars are a kind of ancient creature, like dinosaurs. They think what we call fossils are just “weird rocks.”

I originally referred to the plastic inhabitants of Plasticity as “Plastic Monsters”, though in their world they refer to themselves as Polymers, which is the name of a small material with synthetic varieties that make up plastics. I am not so smart with words and just wanted a simple name for them.

The visuals of Plasticity are inspired by 1980s CGI and P.F. Magic’s Petz series of games, specifically Oddballz.

The original design for [ Abby ] appeared in my mind while listening to the Donkey Kong 64 soundtrack.

Now, some notes for the characters you asked about (Markos & Roeland):

MARKOS – Polymer (Hamster-type) – Age 28 – He / Him pronouns

Likes to watch wrestling on the TV.

Thinks beetles are neat. His apartment is overrun with a kind of highly intelligent beetles, though he seems to be completely unaware of how smart they are, they are just little silly guys to him.

Met Abby at age 4 (Abby was 6). Abby ate a bug in front of Markos, after that he felt he needed to teach Abby how to be kind to bugs. They both grew up alongside each other since then. Markos sees Abby like a sibling, as part of his family.

Works a boring office job. He isn’t quite sure what the business he works for even does but isn’t interested in asking questions.

Has some internal baggage that has resulted in a reliance on alcohol. Though he wasn’t aware of how much alcohol he consumes until shortly after he started dating Roeland, who expressed concern about the excessive amount alcohol both of them were drinking.

ROELAND – Polymer (Hamster & Square Mixed-type) – Age 31 – He / Him & They / Them pronouns

Lost their right arm due to weak magnetism in the joints caused by genetic condition. They have a specialized diet and medications to help prevent this from happening to their other limbs.

Is generally quiet, but if a friend brings up the right topic he will not shut up.

Has a fear of [ house goblins. ]

Works at a games store at a mall. Hates it but has many interesting stories to share with friends.

Is saving up money for a prosthetic arm to replace the missing one.

Enjoys fiber crafts, they have an excessive yarn collection. They like to make little sweaters and hats for Markos’ beetle friends.

That is all I have the time to write down for now, I do have little webpages for my projects over [ at my website, ] though the pages for them aren’t very filled out at the moment. I have been focusing on my [ Teratoma project. ]

[eternal-love]

Hello dear, Happy New Year 💖💖💖

If its possible, can make the theme of the new story this time which is that Austin is a medieval prince with a Feyd Rautha personality type who falls in love with a black-haired girl who is the daughter of one of the palace servants and his interest in that girl begins to grow, and becomes his favorite but his mother, the queen, is completely against this and hates that girl.

DISEASE

Pairing: Prince!Austin x Servant!reader

Summary: Austin is the youngest prince, a thirf-son, spoiled, erratic, dramatic and somewhat arrogant. Spoiled by his overbearing mother. But as he grows old, he finds himself infatuated by you — a lowborn.

Warning: royals, classism, murder (poison), description is sex.

Note: Happy late New Years to you too! Sorry I took so long, I went back to work. Another thing, I’m not that good on writing Feyd for some reason but I tried my best.

All your life you were raised as a servant. Everyday was the same, you woke up, got dressed, broke your fast and then you started serving the crown. You had grown up at court, you knew everything that went through these walls.

And you absolutely knew the young Prince, everyone knew him. You served him from time to time, but he had his esquires. He had the blood from his father, that’s for sure. A womanizer by heritage, incompetent blood through and through. He was prideful, blood-thirsty, charismatic, not everyone’s taste, but, it was enjoyable being around him if you were on his good side.

The prince took quite an interest in you the time he saw you helping the Queen break her fast. He had never seen anyone quite like you. Suddenly he loathed the fact that he was only allowed to have male squires and servants on his chamber. If he had the chance to get you to bathe him, he would take you right there upon the cold walls.

And you didn’t fall behind, all you ever wanted was a taste of the Prince. You always saw him throw enormous and ridiculous feasts for the most unimportant things. You had to cope with the fact that common whores sat on his lap, not you. After all, you were just a servant.

But one day, you were requested at his chambers, as you entered, there he sat on the tub, squires and medics by his side. The Prince was always medicated, his mother thought he had to be half dazed on whatever mix the medics could come up with.

“Ah, there. Finally.” The prince stared at you, his torso wet, holding a goblet. He waved his empty hand making everyone but you leave. “You’re here to wash me. Do it.” He spoke not coldly but nonchalantly. Clearly he was a bit drunk, on wine and medicine.

“Yes, my prince.” You knelt by the tub, grabbing a rag that you drenched in the water and began scrubbing his arms. He leaned his head back, humming because of the pleasure it gave him.

“You have a far kinder touch than any of those idiots.” He groaned, his voice deep and dare you say— seductive.

Oh, this is where your mother’s words came in: ‘If you cannot defeat the powering, try to join them.’ If you became the Prince’s lover, you’d have far more privileges.

“My prince. I must say, i rejoice in having the privilege of doing this.” You spoke carefully, he opened one of his eyes, a smirk on his lips.

“Of course.” He took another sip from the goblet before chuckling.

You kept scrubbing and your fingers gently traced over his strong arms a few times. It aroused him, he tried to hold back.

You were good, no, you were great. You were able to get him to be fazed by you. And the Prince, he tried to keep you hanging around his bedchamber, in fact, you were even allowed to watch him as he practiced with swords.

You saw him snap, curse and hit his knight who helped him practice. There was one time you saw him almost slice a knight in half. To then being held by a medic and being forced to drink something out a goblet. How come you never noticed this?

The prince grew fond of you, and you grew fond of him. Cleaning his wounds, having to deal with his drunken nights, nights where he would be too honest.

“And my mother, she might love me but she thinks I’m a cunt.” The prince blabbered as you refilled his goblet of wine. “All she sees is my fucking brother. Crown Prince this, Crown Prince that.”

You listened, he was completely lost. A prince whose only dream was his dear mother loving him as much as she loved the heir.

“I just like pissing off my mother. The way she gets mad. I cannot wait until she rots.” The prince chuckled and you chuckled too. “Tomorrow, after breaking our fast, you shall sit with me at the tourney.”

You blinked a couple of times, well colored you stoked. “I shall seek to it.”

“You will enjoy the violence as much as me.”

The plan was to make the Queen mad, what other way to do it if not by dressing up a servant in expensive silks to compete for the favor of ‘The Queen of love and beauty’?

As the tourney took place, you sat by the Prince, wearing a gown that fit quite nice on your body, you seemed to quite fit in if it wasn’t for the Queen’s gazing daggers in your direction.

The prince laughed and ate by your side, he cheered and rejoiced every time a knight fell off his horse, every time someone died. And for some odd reason, you found yourself enjoying the violence as much as he did. Seeing everyone from up there, above everyone else, it made you forget that you weren’t a noble, that you belonged down there with everyone else.

The Crown Prince would compete, he asked for the Queen’s favor, and of course, he won the match. This sprung jealousy in Prince Austin. Whose gaze darkened and a minute later, he disappeared. Next thing you knew, he was up against his older brother.

“I shall have your favor.” The prince stood by the balcony. You only smiled and stood up, the ring like favor going down the lance. The Queen stared right at you, oh, he loathed you already.

“Good fortune, my Prince.” You smiled at him, leaning on the balcony’s edge. “I want to see blood.”

As the match took place, the Prince’s nature took over him, he knocked his brother out his horse immediately, not only that, but the Crown Prince broke an arm and a leg. Prince Austin rejoiced as he won, taking the small Queen’s favor from his brother’s lance and went directly to the balcony.

And he crowned you, the ‘Queen of love and beauty’. For years his mother, was always coronated by the Crown Prince. Austin was basically humiliating the Queen. And he took pride in it. His bloodied hands taking your face and leaning in to kiss you.

“My betrothed!” He exclaimed for everyone to hear, he was a third son, not even a spare. His hand was not so important after all.

The Queen could only handle so much, ahe could care less if he fucked you like a hound, if you spent more days and night on his bed than as a servant. But publicly humiliating his house, that she could not have.

As soon as the tourney finished, and after the Prince took you rightfully so in his bed to celebrate. The Queen barged into the chamber, her face showing the distaste of seeing you in bed with her son.

“You plan on to marry this lowborn whore?” The Queen asked.

“Indeed, mother, why?” The prince smirked, he stood up, talking one of the white sheets to cover himself.

“Think of the same on your father. On me!” The older woman, although terrifying, showed a bit of insecurity behind her eyes.

“It’s just harmless fun, is it not? And why care now of what I do with my hand? After all, in my whole life I have never been betrothed or let alone— cared for.”

The Queen paced around, her incompetent son got on her nerves more than she would like. She knew the cold truth, her son on the hands of a woman like you— it could be dangerous.

“Why don’t you go to wash yourself, we’ll continue this afterwards.” The prince told you, to which you didn’t mind. You left.

“You and your wench will dig your claws on the throne and will rip apart your older brother to get on top. I will burn our house to the ground before I let that happen!” The Queen raged, pointing her finger at her youngest son. Who only laughed on her face.

“Mother. This is all a game, and Andrew cannot hide under your skirts forever. He either plays or dies.” Prince Austin spoke with a smirk.

He was more than willing to play this game, and win it.

Prince Austin was sexually vulnerable, you could use him up all you wanted, make him squirm in pain and he would yearn for more. He yearned affection too. He was easy to win over with sweet words, gentle kisses and caressing.

As his new lady wife, you were expected to bear heirs for him. But you had other plans. You were now a princess, why not have more? He wanted more too, yet deep down he was too much of a coward to act on in. So you had to put in a lot of work.

“Listen to me, my love. You are the King’s true born son. You have more right than any of your kins. More than that brood of cunts.” You spoke quietly to him, as you kissed his neck with delicacy. He could only groan softly. Throwing his head back.

“My love, before this, all of you. I felt like a God without its prayers. I used to reach out my hand and no one would come to me.” He had come to adore you, he was addicted to you. Only you were able to calm him down.

You were his every night antidote, unlike everyone else, you seemed to not mind him being poisoned, from inside out.

In fact, you bedding him was his favorite thing. How you slowly straddled his lap, how you rocked your hips, how your face contorted in ways that he could only call godly, the way your moans filled the room. He would more than often hold your waist as you rode him, he would make the effort to move too. But his eyes, rolled back on ecstasy, his cock filling you up, sometimes he could not hold back the thought of giving you babes.

“We’ll have a brood of children. Boys or girls…” he kept thrusting, his hand on your waist. “I do not care. You’re already mine forever, darling. And I’ll make sure everyone knows.”

You could only moan, moving your hips in different motions, probably his sworn guard was listening to everything.

“You’ll sit by my side, you’ll have your own throne.” He said as you kissed his neck, biting him a few times, the pain making him moan.

“What is it that you want, my love?” You asked him, kissing him deeply and then pulling apart, your hands cupping his face. “Tell me what you desire, whatever you wish. I can do it for you, we will do it together.”

“I will have my throne, and the heads of my father and brothers.” He whispered.

“I see it now. Victory.”

The prince was willing to be a Kingslayer and Kinslayer for the sake of satisfying his horrid disease, that taste for having whatever he wanted and making his mother go mad.

Poison, it is a woman’s weapon. It was easy to do so. You could still recall, each one of them, the King, and two older Princes, they each of them getting sicker and sicker and then, one by one, they died in their sleep. How tragic. No one placed the Queen as Regent. The Throne now would go to none other than your Lord Husband.

The coronation, it was glorious, you stood besides the Queen, her face pale, wearing a black gown. You outshined her, you had already expected it. That woman deserved it, she had mistreated you and your mother for the longest time under her thumb when you used to serve her. Now, you would be Queen.

Austin walked towards you, you felt proud, wearing your best gown and your hair on an intricate hairstyle, you could only smile. Seeing the crowns be placed upon your heads, the smirks never left your faces. And a feast was thrown in celebration afterwards.

“Did you not want your son to be King?” Your husband asked his mother, with a mocking voice and smile.

“What mother wouldn’t?” The now Queen dowager spoke quietly, for the first time in decades, she had lost. She lost.

To put more salt on the wound, you reached the Queen and poured wine on her goblet, like the old times. You kissed her cheek.

“Mother!” You called her now, you were Queen, above than her. “Forgive me, I’m new to this and get so confused, I’m a lowborn, remember?” You feigned confusion, shaking your head slightly. “What’s the proper term to address you? Queen Mother or Dowager Queen?”

You smiled at her, to which, the Queen grabbed his goblet and poured it all on you. Or course, your husband wasn’t kind to any disrespect to you. He grabbed his mother by the hair and tugged it.

“Let me go! I am your Queen—“ Austin interrupted his mother, if she could be called that. A woman that always ignored him and never fought or cared for him.

“Y/n is the Queen. You are not, because you are no longer married to the King. Do you understand?” The way your husband spoke was scary, his gaze dark as well as his intentions. “She is not your servant, not your Lady, not anything but your Majesty. You will respect her, of I will have your tongue.”

You could only smile, although everyone stared, the music had stopped. But no one dared to interfere. The Queen stood up and with tears in her eyes, she kissed your cheek.

“Your Majesty, you are an example to us all.” She hugged you, you held her tight.

“You have such a way with words, Mother. I do wonder if you’ll be as clever when I have your tongue ripped out by your son.” You said, feigning a kind smile and tone.

“And don’t let anyone forget. Anyone’s tongue who dares to question the power my Queen, shall have it removed. Long live the Queen!” Your husband said, raising his goblet.

History, history would probably remember you as a Kingmaker and Kingslayer. You had gone from a lowborn to Queen, you had crowned your Husband. You had taken him to the top. And no one could do anything about it. No one.

And if they dated, they would have to deal with the King. After all, anyone who died because they dared to go against you, was just some disgusting blood, shed to feed the crows.