#but like. with Normal. Will even said that Normal’s inability to accept love from others is why he can’t keep relationships as an adult

[cha1cedony]

Thinking about all of the teens’ fear of abandonment. I think it’s simultaneously why Normal and Hermie never worked out AND why Lincoln and Scary did lol

[vatelixx]

The enormity of my desire (disgusts me),

Very very early seasons (1 — start of 2) Spencer Reid x afab!BAU!reader

SMUT!! (and fluff, some angst in relation to Spencer’s past because it can never be too happy, we’re not allowed nice things here). first times & explorations of intimacy.

──── autistic spencer (it’s a central theme to the plot), reader is actually morally good (for once).

Warnings: sub spencer (what did u even expect?), heavy corruption kink, first time for Spencer (all i do is sit around and think about how i’d like to devirgin that genius), HEAAVY praise kink, very very inexperienced Spencer, slight? oral fixation, they’re both just rlly down bad (i told u i would write something light, i delivered), Reader is whipped, Spencer is sooo much worse. Biblical references, Religious imagery, i think i talk about math equations???? And random metaphors/complexes.

w.c: 4k

a/n: i rlly wanted to explore aspects of spencer that criminal minds swept under the rug (cough cough his undiagnosed autism, cough cough his social exclusion, cough cough his crippling fear of forever being alone). Next upload will prob be heavy angst/no smut post-prison spencer (god help me please, i must be a masochist for the way i make myself suffer)

───────────────

There’s a lot Spencer hasn’t done.

He knows he’s behind, that he never quite caught up when it came to the taboo of sex and intimacy. Everything, everything, he’s ever had has been centred around exclusion, alienation, he feels like he’s lived on pause. Frozen, never advancing, stuck on ‘go’. Touch isn’t easy for him, interpersonal relationships are worse. He’s different, god he’s heard that his entire life. ‘You’re not weird, you’re just… different’, but maybe he is weird. Maybe his whole existence is just one big cosmic fuck you, because he’s missed out on so much, so much that he can’t understand, comprehend, act out against. Falling behind; this is the only area of life where he continuously comes up short, inexperienced, naive, he’s not used to being incompetent.

He’s never experienced want the way others do. He could never just hook up, fall into the body of another, expose them to the vulnerable elements of his stature. Open himself up to scrutiny. He might be a genius, he might be intellectually advanced, accepted into a multitude of ivy leagues before he was old enough to vote, but there’s drawbacks to his success. Social awkwardness, an inability to blend, mould, be one of the crowd. Sometimes he wishes he was average, something grey and mundane, so far reduced from the person he is now— it would all be plainly simple.

But he’s not, he’s not. So, this is the weight he has to bare for the brain he never asked for.

Pyrrhic victory, he’ll always be renowned for his intelligence. ‘You’re going to change the world kid,’ maybe, but simultaneously, he’ll never get to experience said world. There’s a chance he’ll always be on the outside, watching normal people gravitate towards each other. Live dreary lives of domesticated simplicity. Stacked bills, arguments over money and parenting techniques. Going to bed angry, only to turn around, mid-night, and resolve it, to not sleep on bad blood. To take them off the couch, to settle into predestined sides of the mattress.

There’s not enough possessions in the world he’d sacrifice just to experience love.

Hedgehog dilemma, the challenges of human intimacy. The hedgehogs want to move closer, to preserve heat during cold. But, they are forced, biologically cursed to remain apart, in order to prevent themselves from harming each other. Spencer doesn’t want to be hurt, to hurt, it’s a morbid byproduct of his upbringing; all he ever endured was mockery.

He thought he’d never get to experience the physical, carnal aspects of existence. And sure, he made peace with the notion, accepted the consequences of being born atypical. Learnt to live without.

But then, oh then there was you. Pretty, intellectual you who quite literally tipped his world on it’s axis. Upheaved the most stable of routines. New to the BAU, he wanted you to last. To stay around, endure the worst of the job. If only for his selfish benefit of orbiting in your presence.

He remembers how it all started: Detroit, another case, more budget cuts, forced proximity that sent you spiralling into a shared bed for the night.

“You’re my favourite person in the team.” you admitted, “And I know that’s dumb, because we’ve spoken the least, but… you’re just, so you. That’s a good thing by the way, a really really good thing.”

He couldn’t quite believe you were talking about him. Spencer, who spilt coffee, and slipped into ceaseless tangents about obscure information. Spencer, who walked into walls when you were around, stumbling over his sentences before deftly, very astutely, giving up, walking away mid-conversation. He wore sweater-vests and colourful mismatched socks, it’s not like he was going to be crowned ‘white boy of the month’.

“Not dumb.” Spencer had responded, shifting closer to tangle further into the warm mess of this accidental situation. “That’s good. I like being me.” he mumbled. “Sometimes…. sometimes it sucks. But that’s okay. I think it’s okay?”

He moved to press his face into the crook of your neck, but you were faster, gathering him by tousled hair, forcing him to look you in the eye.

Oh.

“Please. Please.” he whispered, breaking apart, fracturing, “Please like me. And more than in a weird, ‘just friends or coworkers’ way.”

You did. You do. He should’ve kissed you then, but maybe he was scared, maybe he couldn’t quite discern his feelings, separate the logic from the emotional. So he waited, waited, waited until now. Your third date, you take him to an exhibition within a science centre: replica models of the solar system, filling rooms up, papier-mâché sculptures illuminated by light.

Best date ever. You listen, even when he’s rambling about planets, when he’s pointing out that yes, Jupiter’s density is less than water. That, technically, it would float in a bathtub, if one was built to accommodate its size. You don’t care that he’s not exactly the staple-piece for conventionally attractive males. That he’s nerdish, and awkward, and so so inexperienced when it comes to this.

In his apartment, later, much later, he looks at you, looks at you like you’re the one who just solved the fucking Riemann hypothesis.

“What do you want the most? Like,… if you could ask for one thing.” you say, and god, Spencer loves when you pose these deep, hypothetical questions. When you make him think, because you, you are the biggest challenge to his intellect yet.

You. He wants to say. But he settles for ‘Being remembered,’ instead. He works to untangle layers of fabric, your scarf, your jacket, letting out an exasperated laugh when he meets your amused gaze. “Right now though? I think I’d settle for kissing you.”

You cup his jaw, tracing your fingers along the sharp curve, and god he has perfect anatomy. “Settle huh? You should be more appreciative.”

He leans forward to press a chaste kiss against your lips. Drawing away for a moment, just to return because he’s never had this before. Because for the first time in his life, he gets it. He gets physical attraction, even if it took time. He’s kissed, been kissed, yes. But he could count those moments on one hand, and if you asked how many he truly enjoyed, he’d be left with no fingers raised.

“Believe me, i’m very appreciative…”

This isn’t like before, what he felt in the past; he expected something monotone, flighty, a brief fleeting moment of satisfaction. Means to an end. No, it’s actually the best thing he’s ever experienced, and he’s going to become so insufferable after this, because he’s just found out he is very very into kissing.

Correction: he’s very into kissing you.

In the moment between parting, and touching again, he assumes you to be divinity personified. Spencer has never been religious, but something of this magnitude should be canonised. He wants to ask you. Ask you when you became this beautiful. When you became the person he needs to kiss a second time, kiss a third time, kiss until his lips go numb.

A shaky inhale, a pause. “I hope… I hope that it was okay - I mean, it was good for me. Really, really good. Um—“ to be honest, he’s just glad he didn’t say thankyou.

“Yeah, Spence. That was… wow.” you draw your bottom lip between teeth, press into tissued flesh. Jesus Christ. “Wanna try again?”

Yes yes yes yes. He looks at you, pupils blown obscenely out of proportion. Part of him wants to say, ‘why didn’t we do this sooner?’ But that’s not fair; he’s only ready now. Now that he feels, now that he might be a little in love with you.

“Please,” is his answer, and then he’s catching your face in the palms of his hand, tugging your lips back to his, because admittedly, they have ached in the long, extensive period you were apart (53 seconds).

This time it deepens and Spencer sees stars. It’s an astronomical phenomenon, something interstellar— and god, he’s relating kissing to space. They should just tape the word ‘virgin’ to his back and call it a day.

There’s soft little breathy sighs escaping his mouth now, bleeding into yours. And yeah, spontaneous combustion might be a real threat. Actually no, it would hardly be spontaneous; there’s a clear, clear cause, and it just so happens to be your ruinous lips.

This is an entirely new facet of the human experience. The kiss is electric; he’s always been partial toward physics, and right now his veins carry an alternating current.

You know, he could probably write a thesis based on this.

You both stumble back back back until he’s hitting a wall, and yes, thankyou. He’s making all sorts of sounds he can’t justify, and it’s a supernova, an infinite black pool of— oh, he thinks he might die, ascend, transcend, when you press your thumb against his chin, hold your lips at just a little slant from his. Force him to wait there.

“Please,” he’s never been above begging. A worthy sacrifice, one he’ll certainly repeat again because you return to the kiss, and the world around him dissolves.

You’ve got one hand tangled in his hair. Tousled auburn, fingers sinking into strands, pushing all the way down to the root. The other is still cupping his face, keeping him close, keeping him selfishly close actually.

“Spence,” you murmur. And yes. Yes. He likes that. The way his name sounds rolling off your tongue, like it was destined to be there. Like he was destined to be yours.

His world is ending. So is yours. Fuck it, he presses himself against your thigh, and ohmygodohmygod. He’s being loud, he’s actually being so criminally loud right now because apparently he’s the most whorish virgin to ever exist.

“I lied, I lied,” he admits between messy kisses, “When you asked what I wanted the most? It’s not to be remembered, well it is, its on the list. But—“ he groans, kisses you again because talking interrupts matters that are more important. Like your lips.

“I wanna cum.”

Eloquent.

Spencer Reid being dirty? Oh, it’s hot, it’s so hot to reduce someone to such an obscene state. To reduce him, the boyish fumbling nerd (who just so happens to be the most beautiful person in existence) to such a degrading mess.

Still, there’s shock. Not because he said it (you greatly appreciate the indecent things falling from those pretty lips right now), but because—

“You’ve never? Haven’t even experienced it once? By yourself?”

He should be embarrassed, but his lips are red, his eyes are glassy, and the bulge in his pants is straining to be touched. “Never,” he sighs shakilly. “Never, and i’m— i’m starting to understand why it’s so popular.”

He whimpers, pushes himself against your thigh, because the friction, yes. “Is that weird? Please don’t think i’m weird. Because I’m really, really weird. Just maybe… not in that way?”

It’s never been enough. His body sometimes feels numb to the touch, and yet still so very overstimulated. Like he manually blocks himself from feeling, already prepared for the flinch. How does he explain that life hasn’t been kind to him? That he hates his body because of what people made it out to be when he was a child. Stripping him naked, tying him to a goalpost, always the underdog. The one to be targeted, tormented.

“It’s actually kinda hot,” you interrupt his thoughts, and just because you’re evil, corrupt, the worst, you press your thigh harder against his clothed cock, palm covering his mouth when a plethora of whiny sounds escape his mouth.

It’s performative, really. Alone in his apartment, there’s no need for noise control. So when your thumb slips between parted, swollen lips, he knows to suck. The average human hand has between 10,000 and 10 million bacteria, and Spencer does not actually give a fuck anymore.

“To think that you’ve never even felt what it’s like. That you’re gonna feel it with me for the first time. I get to see that shit— god, you’re going to look so fucking pretty for me.”

You draw your thumb out of his mouth, and he has the audacity to whine.

He’s never wanted anything more in his entire life. It’s all tertiary now. Only this matters.

“Please don’t praise me—“ he protests, “I’ll probably finish in my pants.”

“Praise kink, noted.”

You laugh, and he can only groan, curse existence for being this cruel to his overworked, undervalued body. “Don’t— don’t laugh. You’re not supposed to laugh, that can heighten performance anxiety. Increase insecurity, and…” he sighs, “You do not care. Sadistic tendencies, noted.”

“Shut up. Wanna see you.” you say, and he’s just muttering breathless mhm’s, too delirious to function; his body is betraying the last iota of self-control like the little whore it apparently is.

His sweater comes off first, then his top. Discarded fabric, his raised arms when you mutter a candid ‘up’, giving way to exposed skin. In response? Your pupils dilate. Spencer knows because he’s analysing, profiling. If you hate him like this, he’s fairly certain he’ll drag himself into a self-dug early grave. He wishes he was being melodramatic. That your approval didn’t have such a substantial impact on his carefully-constructed ego. But, oh, it does. It does.

Thin, with a long, defined torso, he blushes, rose blemished skin, when your hands drag across his stomach. He’d love to say he reacts sanely, suavely. Urbane to your touch. But that would be a total, discreditable lie. Instead, his back arches, seeking contact, following the path of your fingertips with pitiful desperation. He feels malleable, willing to bend and contort, if only to feel more.

“How can you not think you’re pretty, Spence?” His pants are gone next, then his stained boxers, fabric borderline sheer now, soaked through with pre-cum.

Spencer feels betrayed. His body never responds, not to his own hands, not to his own thoughts. And yet, the moment you’re on him, he’s a live-wire. It’s sick, heinous, double-crossing. Maybe it’s purposeful, done just to spite him. Figures.

“Holy shit, look at you. Look at how perfect you are.” Spencer wants to object, because he distinctly told you not to praise him. However,.. right now, the lights are on but nobody is home. Brain-death, he’s certainly in a vegetative state.

“Ohmygodohmygod,” he whimpers, because no amount of knowledge about human anatomy and physiology could prepare him for how he feels under your touch. No amount of education in the psychology of relationships could inform him of how viscerally wrong the way you look at him feels.

Because it’s not wrong, not all. It’s the most right he’s ever felt, and he’ll tell you that if you’ll just keep it up.

The sounds he’s making are phonographic, lewd, you’ve given up on trying to stifle them now. Where have you been hiding? Your eyes fall, and he wants to blush away from the exhibiting gaze, but he’s just…. too far gone; the thought of your touch outweighs any previous reticence. Then, oh then, you drop to your knees, and shit. He expected your thigh, maybe your hand if he was lucky, not—

This. Your mouth, your tongue, your pretty lips; god, god, is this a sin? Because if it is, he’ll take it.

“Please,” he whines, and he can’t look anymore because the sight alone is going to send him over the edge. He’s gripping the wall, scrambling scrambling for purchase, because he’s trying not to grip you, but how exactly does he keep this respectful?

He’s pretty sure they’re past that, considering your mouth is currently wrapped around his cock, and he’s debauched.

You want this, you want him, he feels like he’s transcended humanity, like he’s become someone, anyone and anything, that deserves the way you’re taking him apart, piece by piece. In the aftermath, he hopes you don’t leave a single ounce of him intact.

“Wanna kiss you. Oh— oh oh,” he’s sobbing now, “Come back here. Miss your mouth— even if it’s,” he looks down and that’s a mistake. “Please.”

Of course it would be Spencer to disrupt the best (and admittedly only) head of his life because he needs you closer.

You oblige, raising from your knees, and Spencer thinks it might be sacrilegious. But then again, he feels religion in your touch so it can’t be too profane. Maybe? He’s not sure, he’s not sure and it doesn’t matter. Ethics and morality have long since disintegrated, sins are engrained into humankind. He almost wants to thank Eve for tearing into the apple, because it’s allowed this irreverence to occur.

Spencer blindly follows you through the apartment, stumbling and muttering until he can collapse against the bed. Baring his pretty neck as his head hits the bedframe. Tangled in sheets, draped over his lap, his deft fingers run across your waist, mapping out the structure of your frame. If only to remember, recite this act of blasphemy.

“Spence,” you whisper, and then his lips are crashing into yours, stealing breath, stealing sanity. He whimpers, murmurs a protest when you draw back, and you can only laugh. “Lets get you off, yeah? You wanna feel an orgasm, pretty boy?”

“Yes, yes please. That would uh— yes.” he’s not even sure how he’s conscious right now. His body, god his body, has endured more pleasure in the last hour than it has for the majority of his life. Your hands scathe, and Spencer is willing to indefinitely burn, if just to feel them one more time.

You only stop to take off your clothes, and surely there needs to be prep? To reaffirm, he knows anatomy, the correct procedure, how the transgression is supposed to occur. And yet, that’s from a clinical, objective mindset. Do this, do that, etc etc. Nothing works out like that in practice.

You’re so wet, panties stained through, he spares a moment to run his fingers across your thighs, hand slipping beneath fabric to graze your clit. The moan that follows has him distracted, thumb tracing circlets, over and over until you’re pulling back to return the balance. The balance, which admittedly is skewed, tipped scales, you’re on top. He falls to the weight of your influence.

And yeah, he’s more than fine with that. Jesus, you drag your panties down, down your thighs, your legs, then they’re reaching your ankles, pooling there for a moment before they’re being discarded, tossed somewhere on his floor — leaving behind a souvenir that yes, yes this happened.

“I can’t,” he says, burying his face into your shoulder when you take him. It’s slow, sinking onto his cock like every inch of warmth will destroy him. Maybe it will. Maybe he doesn’t care, because he deserves this. He deserves to feel after so much repression.

Or maybe, maybe he’s just become the biggest slut known to mankind. Likely.

Your body presses against his, and he thinks he’s going to disintegrate, because he feels so good. He understands now, he understands why people do this. Why it’s integral to the function of most. This is the best day of his life. This. Is. The. Best. Day. Of. His. Life.

There’s this noise, this pathetically loud whimper when you start to roll your hips— and oh your body is wet against him, and you’re so tight, and it’s perfect because he doesn’t have to do anything.

He can just sit here, look pretty, and cry.

He knows he’s a giver, that he’d bleed himself dry for you. It’s a curse, he supposes: so willing to bend backwards for the satisfaction of the people he trusts. But, this is foreign, and he wants to watch you, aimlessly stare, dumb and empty-headed as you wield his body like a weapon. Turn him into something perniciously yours.

Spencer has no reference for what an orgasm is supposed to feel like, and yeah, he’s really good at guessing in these type of situations. Because he’s rolling his thumb over your clit again, and he wants to draw it into his mouth, to see you laid out across bedsheets, writhing, unable to do anything but suffocate him with your thighs.

You clench around him, back arched, releasing a series of strained moans. With one hand tangled in his dishevelled hair, the other pressed against his chest, your face contorts, your body stiffens. There’s no way his incessant whimpering just got you off?

Okay. So you like him desperate. Point taken.

“Please— please, wanna cum. Wanna feel it so bad,” he’s slurring over his words, sentences punctured by devastating whimpers. And look at him, asking for permission, waiting even though his body has been teetering on the edge for so long now.

“Shh, shh..” you press your forehead against his, and he melts. Reoccurring theme. His hand grips your jaw, thumb pushed firmly against your chin, keeping you close. “You wanna cum for me, baby? Gonna give me your first?”

“Mhm— mhm…” is all he can say. When you pick up your pace, he has to burrow his face into the crook of your neck, whimpers messy and broken off, suppressed against your warm skin.

“Oh. Oh…” he repeats, again. Like there’s anything else he could utter, because this is earth-shattering.

It’s the sun, and all eight planets combined, and the universe collapsing in on itself, and he’s bucking, squirming, releasing into you, spilling deep.

He sobs. Breaks down. Because it’s so so good, and he can’t believe he ever deprived his body of this.

Neediest whore to ever exist, apparently.

It takes him a while to come back. Longer to regain motor function, to sink into present day. Life, and expectations, and everything, everything, your touch eradicated.

“Just… just stay like this?” he asks, collapsing against your body after he’s drawn out of you. There’s mess, evidence of your ministrations, but cleanliness seems futile when he’s blissed out, caught in a post-orgasmic haze that yes yes yes he needed so badly.

You card your hands through his hair, watch the way he stares up at you, large, widened eyes, chin resting against your chest. “Hi,” he mutters dumbly.

“Spence,” Spence, Spence, Spence. He could drown himself in that nickname.

“Yeah?” he breathes out.

“You we’re so good—“

He rolls away from you, finding a home for his face in the pillow. “Stop. Stop.” he groans, “Don’t do that. You’re going to destroy me. I’m not… equipped for this, for you. Someone should just sedate me, put me out of my misery, a coma sounds like—“

He tilts his head to the side, relinquishing, “Okay. Sorry. Meltdown over. Can we shower? Then maybe do this again? Which will make the shower inconsequential, I suppose. There’s a new documentary I want to watch, and oh, you still haven’t seen the third Star Wars—“

He’s happy, content, over the fucking moon, to be silenced with your lips. “Yeah,” he murmurs, hand interlocking with yours as you both fall back against the mattress, “Let’s do this again.”

[limarieb]

so high school

Pairing(s): Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader

Summary: Growing up, you could never understand how people your age were so romantically interested in other people. You begin to understand for the first time, however, when you encounter a certain Sokovian during your first semester of university.

Warnings: mentions of underage drinking, college!au, friends (?) to lovers, college au, making out, slight angst (but not really)

Word Count: 4.0k

Author's Note: everyone say thank you taylor swift for the spontaneous new fic! also this is lightly proofread, so edits might be made later oops

Main Masterlist | ao3 | Wattpad

...

Growing up, you never truly dated anyone. Sure, you had crushes on fictional characters in the media you consumed, and you allotted arguably too much time to admiring celebrities online; but, you never saw anyone in your personal life in such a light. At various hangouts and sleepovers over the years, you noticed just how much your friends discussed their love lives. Hushed whispers and sighs of the same phrase, “I really like them,” flooded your ears in the hallways at school. You had originally tried to join in on the conversations, not wanting to be excluded, but you simply couldn't engage in them wholeheartedly; eventually, the inability to relate began to upset you. You naturally boiled it down to something that must have been wrong with you — how could it possibly be normal to be like this when everyone else around you seemed to share these romantic sentiments?

Thankfully, you became completely preoccupied, both mentally and physically, by the prospect of university. By the time your junior year of high school had started, your love life — or lack thereof — no longer held too much importance to you. Instead of keeping whimsical love letters on your desk like others your age did, you opted to pile various books. From Camus to Aristotle, you discovered a deep fascination and affinity to the field of philosophy and the metaphysical discussions it posed. Therefore, when your senior year had arrived, you threw yourself head first into your studies, determined to build up your application in order to get into a top university.

After accepting your offer into one of the best philosophy programs in the nation, you anticipated your time at university, daydreaming about all of the things you would study and all of the people you would meet there.

But never could you have anticipated someone like Wanda Maximoff.

You had met her during one of your introductory courses in your first semester. Wanda was the type of person that, upon first glance, you would be scared. Not just because she was undeniably pretty, but she also had this stone cold exterior to her. Her lips were permanently etched into a slight frown, and she never really showed too much expression while she spoke during class. To put it simply, she intimidated you; so, you settled on admiring the brunette from afar (two seats up, one to the left — if you were to be specific).

Your plans changed, however, after the two of you got assigned to be partners for a class project. It was just a presentation, but it required you both to meet outside of class to work on it. You would be a liar if you said your heart didn't skip a beat at the thought of seeing Wanda outside of these four walls of your classroom, even if it was just to work on this assignment.

Seemingly unbothered by it all, she gave you her number for you to set up a date and time to meet. Her messages were all business, but they still made you feel like a dopey teenager every time her name showed up on your screen.

The day quickly came for you both to work on the presentation. Ultimately, you had settled on the two of you meeting in your dorm, which you made sure to deep clean before she came. You were not necessarily messy by any means, but the idea of Wanda, the most daunting person you could imagine, stepping into the safe space of your room made your blood run cold for some reason.

As Wanda knocked on your door, you rushed to open it. The two of you stood face to face for a moment, divided only by the doorframe. She still had her typical frown, but you noticed it shift into the slight uptick of a smirk. After a moment had passed, she finally broke the silence. "Are you gonna let me in, or...?" she asked, teasing you and your awkward nature.

Your cheeks flushed in embarrassment as you stepped aside for her to enter, "Oh, right... Sorry."

You led her to your side of the room, where she stood for a moment analyzing all of your possessions. You felt small as she did so, like a tiny insect under a bright, unsettling microscope.

She suddenly turned to face you, dropping her bag on the floor, "So, are we gonna work on this or not?"

That is how you found yourself on the floor, her laying on her back and you on your stomach. You had your computer in front of you, typing furiously as she provided you the words and ideas. You glanced over at her every now and then, especially if she was being awfully silent.

Most times, she would just be looking up at the ceiling in thought, her brown hair sprawled in random patterns underneath her; however, after a particularly long bought of silence, you looked over at her to find her gaze directly on you. You quickly returned your eyes to the screen of your computer and began typing whatever came to your mind. You hoped she did not notice the blush rise to your face.

She did.

She sighed, turning her body to lay completely facing you. "You're very quiet, you know," she stated, closely observing your reactions highlighted by the light of your screen.

Unsure of how to respond, you simply say, "So I've been told."

"Oh," she exclaimed, her smirk from earlier returns. "She has jokes."

You hum in agreement, "Just a few, unfortunately."

With the project now finished, the two of you abandoned it in favor of simply talking to each other. Never would you have guessed that Wanda could be this... warm. Unlike what you had witnessed in the classroom, she was very friendly and sarcastic in the privacy of your dorm.

You discovered a lot of information about the brunette during this conversation, such as how she loved coffee but only if its iced, how she never loved texting (preferring to call or talk in-person) but will do so if she must, how she immigrated with her twin brother from Sokovia when they were children. As she recounted her memories from Sokovia, you could hear the accent she once had poking through the surface; although, you did not point it out, afraid it was an insecurity of hers. Maybe you would tell her another time how nice it sounded, but for now, you bonded with her about collecting CDs and vinyl records from various artists.

While the two of you casually spoke, all you could think about was her — how pretty she was under the dimmed lighting of your dorm, how every joke she told was the epitome of humor, how much you wanted to stay in this moment with her. She was perfect.

Is this what people were talking about in high school?

As the night came to an inevitable end, you found yourself feeling quite sad, for you no longer had an excuse to hang out with Wanda. Though she had her number, you did not have the confidence to use it and ask if she wanted to meet up again.

You did not have to worry too much about it. As she packed her belongings back into her bag, swinging it over her shoulder, she spoke, "You know, you're pretty cool, Y/N."

You tried to hide the shock caused by her words, "Thank you, I think?"

She chuckled lowly, "My friends are having this thing at my place this weekend, if you wanted to join?"

Your head perked up, eyes blinking rapidly in shock. Unable to deny her offer, you nodded, "Yeah, sure... okay."

“Great,” she replied, walking toward your door. You followed behind her and reached around to open for her. She smiled at the gesture before speaking again, “I’ll text you later with the details and everything. See you in class.”

“Yeah, see you,” you returned. As you closed door behind her, you feel your mind finally catch up to reality: you, the stereotype of a nerd with very few friends, are going to hang out with Wanda and her friends.

You close your eyes, leaning your head onto the back of the door. “Oh, shit,” you whisper aloud into the open air. What have you just gotten yourself into?

Decoding your own thoughts and feelings about the Sokovian in the days leading up to your next class had revealed just how infatuated you had become; yet, you didn't even know how to act upon them. For years, you had only observed romantic behaviors from the outside looking in, whether it be through your friends' dating experiences or the words on a page from whichever sapphic novel you had picked to read. Now that you finally found yourself in the loop, what were you supposed to do?

Should you message her about whatever? No, that would come across as needy and overbearing.

What if you found her after class and ask to hang out again? No, that's even more overbearing than the text message.

The internal war waged on, resulting in your mind and body being paralyzed out of anxiety. For now, you have settled on simply waiting for her message regarding this weekend and presenting your assignment with her this week during class.

Days later, you walked into the class, practically shaking from your nerves about the presentation and the girl that you had to present with (who had just so happened to become your first teenage crush over the span of weeks).

You sat down in your unofficially assigned seat. Being so focused on the way your leg bounced repeatedly, you failed to notice the familiar brunette enter the classroom. Instead of sitting in her typical seat, however, she dropped her bag on the floor by the seat directly next to you.

Wanda instantly noted your nervous demeanor. While she had her own anxieties regarding the presentation and such, hers remained within her mind. She never showed such things outwardly, unless she was with someone with who she felt undeniably comfortable expressing those thoughts.

She slid into the seat and reached over to place her hand on your bouncing leg. Immediately, you noticed the feeling of someone's hand, breaking the chain of your anxious thoughts; upon glancing to your side, you discovered the culprit: Wanda.

"Hey," she started. "Everything is going to be fine, I promise."

Unable to find the words currently, you opted to remain silent, but you provide her with a uncertain nod in return. With a squeeze of her hand as a final attempt at reassurance, she placed her hand back within her lap and waited for the class to begin.

As always, Wanda was right. Your presentation went well; there were a few instances of stumbling words on your part, but otherwise it went great.

When the two of you returned to your seats, she leaned over and muttered under her breath for you to hear, "Told you so."

As you began to do your typical nighttime routine that evening, you heard your phone go off. Unsuspecting to who it was, you tapped on the screen under the assumption that it was just another email added to your overflowing inbox. You were wrong yet again.

Wanda: hey y/n !! are you still able to make it to the thing this weekend?? its gonna be on saturday at my place... lmk !!

You stared at the message for a moment before confirming you would still be in attendance, of course. Was it normal for your heart rate to speed up this much from mere words on a screen?

Saturday night rolled around quicker than you had anticipated. It was almost time to leave, yet you were currently standing still in your pajamas, surrounded by the miscellaneous clothing items you had thrown around. Ultimately, you had settled on the outfit you had first chosen, resulting in a bunch of unnecessary cleaning afterwards.

When you arrived to her place, you promptly knocked on the door. A moment passed before the door creaked open to reveal the Sokovian. Her outfit was considerably more casual than others you had seen her wear around campus. She stood in front of you, adorned with an oversized band tee and jeans; her fingers were still littered with her usual assortment of rings. However, the thing that surprised you the most was her lack of makeup. Not that she needed it, of course; in fact, it was quite the opposite. Tonight she seemed to have abandoned her typical heavy eyeliner and rose-colored shade of lipstick, choosing to only use her mascara and some chapstick.

"Sorry for the jumpscare," Wanda joked, her nose scrunched in amusement from your reaction. She continued to explain, "I know I'm dressed down compared to class. I just don't like putting in the effort to get ready sometimes, especially to just hang out with friends."

"No!" you exclaimed, quickly trying to backtrack the way she took your shocked expression. "No, you're fine. You're beautiful, actually, I just- I was just surprised to see you without the eyeliner and all."

Her cheeks became flushed at the compliment, but you seemed to miss it being overly concerned with your own response. She chuckled at your awkwardness, "Thanks. Oh, you can come in, by the way. I think everyone is here now."

She introduced you to each friend, after which you gave an insecure wave in return.

As the night progressed, you gradually loosened up. Whether it was time or the alcohol in your bloodstream, it frankly did not matter to you. You were not drunk by any means but definitely buzzed enough to not worry about every single decision you made. You even talked to one of Wanda's friends, Natasha, for awhile without the Sokovian present (given that she had left to use the restroom, but it still counts in your mind).

Suddenly, you were sat on the floor, playing childish party games with the others. It was fun, you couldn't lie... until it wasn't. You had already survived Truth or Dare, but someone (Tony) had suggested Spin the Bottle. With no romantic history, it was practically a given that you subsequently had not kissed anyone yet. For your first kiss to be during a stupid game of Spin the Bottle would be depressing; but, you didn't want to be the loser who said no to playing because the reason would be too humiliating to explain.

So, you elected to power through the hesitation, hoping the bottle just would not land on you.

At first, you were confident. The game was now three rounds in, and you remained lucky.

Eventually, the group had noted your lack of participation and had chosen to give you a "free spin." You silently prayed it would at least land on someone with whom you had become somewhat acquainted. With a shaky hand, you reached forward, spinning the emptied beer bottle. In the moment, it felt like the bottle would never stop spinning, but, once it did, it felt like time froze altogether.

It landed on Wanda.

Though you liked the brunette, you truly did not want your first kiss to be this way, especially with her.

She instantly noticed your apprehension. Turning to where Tony sat in the circle, she offered, "Hey, what if we did a hybrid of this and Seven Minutes in Heaven?"

Your eyes widened at the question, feeling unsure about all of this.

With a smirk on his face, Tony agreed, "I like the way you think, Maximoff. Alright, new girl, go follow Maximoff, and don't have too much fun while you're gone."

Before walking off with Wanda to the nearest bathroom, she briefly turned around to aim her middle finger at the boy. Though you were extremely overcome with anxiety about what was about to occur in the bathroom, you released a chuckle at her response.

She pulled you into the bathroom, flipping the lights on. As the door clicked shut, you faced her with your back against the wall.

"So, um, what are we supposed to do?" you asked.

"We don't have to do anything, Y/N," she replied, leaning against the bathroom counter. "I just noticed you weren't very comfortable with the idea of kissing me out there, so I improvised a little bit."

"Oh, okay," you breathed out. "Just for the record, it was not the idea of kissing you that made me uncomfortable. You- You're cool, so, it's fine."

Wanda tilted her head in curiosity, clearly not expecting that response. "Oh?" she questioned. "What was it then? Because I could clearly tell you were not very comfortable in there... I mean, you were visibly stiff."

"It's not you, I just..." you looked away, unable to meet her gaze.

"'It's not you, it's me'?" she joked, narrowing her eyes.

"Yes! No! I mean..." you exhaled. "It's not that the idea of kissing you makes me uncomfortable because, believe me, it very much doesn't. I just- I've never done this before."

The blood rushed to your cheeks during your admission. You felt utterly embarrassed, wishing you could just be back in your dorm in this moment.

"Y/N," she called softly. Despite every ounce of your body screaming at you to not do so, you returned your gaze to the Sokovian. "Do you want to kiss me?"

You couldn't read her tone. A part of you was nervous, maybe this was all some sick joke between her and her friends; yet, the other part of you was thrilled by the proposition alone.

"I wouldn't oppose," you muttered, automatically employing humor as your defense mechanism.

Wanda rolled her eyes at your antics, "Ok, then, let's play a new game." She looked down at her phone, checking the time. "We have less than four minutes in here."

Confused by the sudden change, you acquiesced in her request, "Okay?"

She stepped closer to you, standing a foot away.

Her tongue escaped her mouth, briefly licking her lips, before she proposed, "Are you going to marry, kiss, or kill me?"

Your eyes widened at the unexpected question, but you attempted to recover in order to return her playful energy, "Can I choose all three?"

Her eyebrow had risen, the infamous smirk forming on her lips. Slowly, she inched closer and closer to you until you could feel her breath on your skin. One hand found refuge on your hip, while the other she brought to the side of your face. She used her fingers to tuck a few loose strands of hair behind your ear then cradled your face. You licked your own lips and closed your eyes in anticipation.

Then, you felt it. Her lips brushed against yours, softly and slowly as if she were testing the waters. It was only a peck, but you swear your heart burst from the experience.

A moment passed before she pulled away enough for her to speak.

"Was that okay?" she inquired, ensuring you were still interested in this.

"More than," you affirmed.

She smiled, "Good, because we still have a few minutes left, and I intend to use them."

Without another second, she connected your lips once again. This time was different, however; there was a newfound fervor behind it. Her kisses started slow like the initial pace, gradually becoming quicker and deeper. Uncertain about what to exactly do, you continue to follow her lead. You felt her slide her tongue across your lips, asking for entrance. How could you ever deny her that? As her tongue began to clumsily caress with yours, a familiar feeling settled in the pit of your stomach, but you ignored it and kept kissing her.

A knock at the door pulled you both back into reality.

"Time's up, lovebirds," the voice called. "Clothes better be on and straightened when you leave."

Wanda chuckled at her friend's words and bit her lip. For the first time, you think you see her outwardly nervous. She swallowed as she shifted her gaze from your lips to meet your eyes, "Hey, I um- I hope this wasn't a one time thing."

You sighed in relief, "With you? Never."

She leaned forward once more, placing a final peck on your lips before grabbing your hand to return to the circle. Instead of your prior placements on the floor, in which she sat on the other end, Wanda refused to let go of your hand, instead pulling you to where she had been sitting.

Thankfully, no one mentioned how your cheeks were now incredibly plagued with a pink hue, allowing the game to continue onward.

After the group decided to finish playing games and turn on a movie, you followed Wanda to the couch in order to sit next to her. As soon as you found your place at the end of the sofa, she gravitated closer, leaning into your side. Her head rested on your shoulder as if you both had been close for years.

The movie American Pie started playing, all of her friends too engrossed in it to note how the two of you were cuddled up together. She picked her head up from its place on your shoulder. You didn't think too much of it, imagining her neck must have simply gotten uncomfortable in that position.

However, she turned her head to face you, taking in the sight of you and her friends all hanging out and watching a movie. Unable to resist herself any longer, she leaned in closer, her breath hitting your ear as she whispered to you, "I can't focus on the movie. All I can think about is kissing you right now."

You rotated your head to face her, biting your lip at her words. "Shush, your friends are here," you quietly argued, but you were secretly enjoying her antics. You peered over her shoulder, observing her friends who sat quietly with their attentions fully focused on the film.

Wanda pressed a soft kiss to the base of your neck prior to returning to its original position on your shoulder. You sighed at the feeling of her affection, wondering if it would linger forever.

Soon enough, the movie ended, and it was time to go home for the night. Her friends had left moments ago, but not without saying how you should "come around more often." Honestly, you were deeply excited that you received their approval, especially after the recent developments with Wanda.

You stayed behind for a little, attempting to garner as much alone time with Wanda as you could without being interrupted.

With the others now gone, you allowed Wanda to be more affectionate; or rather, you allowed her to give in to her desires and kiss you again, and again, and again.

After the final peck, you pulled away with the cheesiest smile and swollen lips. She loved seeing you this way: giddy and carefree.

"I really like you, Wanda," you proclaimed with a sigh, effectively breaking the comfortable silence between the two of you. "Like, a lot."

"I really like you, too," she replied. "You know, in case it got lost in translation with the kissing and everything."

You playfully slapped the side of her arm. "I'm serious," you started. "You make me feel so... high school."

She raised her brow, gesturing for you to continue.

You resumed, "I never felt like this, especially during high school. For a while, I actually thought something was wrong with me." Her lips formed a slight pout at your past conflict. "I was always so... jealous of others my age, having all of these teenage experiences with crushes and romance. Since I never did, I just assumed that it was my fault, that something was wrong with me. It was isolating; it felt like some inside joke that everyone else knew about except me. But, I'm happy I waited, truthfully, because now I can experience all of those high school feelings with you."

End.

[signanothername]

Why do you like Killer?

*Cracks knuckles* get ready

I don’t like Killer, I fucking LOVE HIM

He’s my number 1 fave au sans and has been for a very long time

Now to be clear, I’m talking about canon Killer here, i have mixed feelings about some fanon interpretations, some are good and i genuinely love them, others not so much

That being said, let’s actually talk about why i love my beautiful amazing wonderful son <3333

(All art used in this post is by Killer’s creator: Rahafwabas)

The very first hook for me is his very concept, the mere idea of a sans basically agreeing to go on a killing spree after so many genocide runs is just *chef’s kiss*

Killer knew it was wrong, he knew he shouldn’t, yet he did

Killer doomed himself by his choice, he could’ve stayed as “sans” but he chose to accept Chara’s offer, yet his choice came to be after he saw no point in refusing anymore (important addition and a correction here)

The canon comics had Killer saying that he’s the way he is cause he gave up, he said “you won, you’re the reason I’m like this”, he’s been on so many genocide runs that he felt a little part of him die each run, only to give up and go on said killing spree

It’s interesting how the player is a big part of Killer’s story, cause whether Chara was involved or not, the player is the root cause of his suffering

But what i love the most is that regardless of his backstory or reasons, Killer’s actions led to their inevitable consequences, and it forever changed him

The biggest change? His very soul, it went from a normal monster soul to his signature target soul, infused with Determination, something that supposedly hurts monsters, it’s almost like his soul was infected with it, and you can see how it physically affects him with the black liquid that constantly comes out his eyes, nose and mouth, and even at times, that sludge is too much that he chokes on it

And the amusing yet tragic parallel? Killer aimed to “feel something new” by his genocide runs, only to end up not feeling anything at all, at least at his default stage 2

Which brings me to the concept of his soul’s stages

I love Killer’s stages so so much, it’s such a beautiful unique and wonderful concept

Killer’s individual stages are sooooo intriguing to me, it shows Killer in a different light each time depending on which stage he’s in, stage 1 is the closest he is to being “sans”, the closest to he used to be, he can feel emotions and is generally back to his more lazy bones attitude, as well as his ability to actually show sympathy, and feel the pain he’s always in, but what’s interesting is that regardless of the fact he’s the closest to his old self in this stage, it’s still so clear that Killer isn’t really “sans” anymore, that no matter what, he truly had changed in a way that can never be reversed, a point of no return, even when Color saves him, cause his new habits? His fears? His pain? His trauma? They can never be taken away, Killer has to live with the scars of what he experienced

Stage 2 is who he’d become, he can’t feel anything at this stage, emotions nonexistent, and his nonchalant behavior towards himself and others is most apparent here, a parallel I like to think of is that Killer’s inability to feel anything at all is almost like prolonged sensory deprivation, when you’re deprived of sensory input/ simulation for long periods, your brain needs compensate, and so it does its job, Killer’s soul prevents him from feeling so he resorts to other methods (usually very self destructive) to compensate for his lack of emotional capacity

I also really really love how that especially during stage 2, Killer isn’t trustworthy, cause in stage 1 you can actually trust him to an extent, in stage 2 Killer’s actions, behaviors and mindset are completely unpredictable, but not because he’s random, cause he’s actually extremely calculated, yet regardless, his carelessness when it comes to his own life and other people’s lives is dialed to an 11 here, so he could either choose to kill/attack or simply stay and listen

we even get an actual in depth look at how Killer’s mind works in one of the canon comics, in which Killer contemplates whether to attack Dream or not as he listens to his own stages in his head, one of which tells him to Kill Dream, while the other tells Killer to talk to Dream first

How Killer comes to a final decision on whether he attacks or not is something I believe his calculated mind makes depending on the situation and the pros/cons of what act he chooses, Killer is pretty smart, he knows when to let his trigger happy self out and when to settle down

Stage 3 or the “crazy stage” is the stage in which he’d attack anyone in his way whether friend or foe, we unfortunately don’t have much canon info regarding this stage, but that ain’t gonna stop me from analyzing the shit outta it (and talk about how i perceive it)

I like to think of this stage as the combination between stage 1 and 2, yet it’s almost like his soul can’t truly decide on which stage to settle on and by extension founding stage 3 as a separate stage by itself, Killer becomes extremely unstable at this stage, his soul moves rapidly and it’s obvious he’s in pain cause of it, whether that pain is just emotional or both physical and emotional isn’t really clear, yet i’d like to believe it’s both, and i feel like Killer’s capacity to attack anyone at this stage is related to that pain, and something I really love to believe is that Killer can’t calm down enough to settle back to stage 1 or 2 unless he either wears himself out by fighting someone, or he’s left alone to his own demons long enough to pull himself together, if he were to be forcefully restrained during this stage, it would only serve to make it worse and prolong the time he stays that way (cough something i may or may not have made a quick comic about but never shared as always vjvjvjj)

Not to mention, one of the canonical responses Killer gives when asked if he’s ok at stage 3 seems to make Killer alternate between answers he wants to give between saying he’s “fine” and “i don’t know” which makes sense, Killer isn’t stable at all, it’s almost like his stage 1 self and stage 2 self are fighting over who gets to talk (stage 2 seems more dominant)

Yet the fact Killer is able to answer and comprehend his surroundings enough at this stage is very intriguing to me, cause it shows how much Killer is able to handle/endure (which is A LOT cause damn) and not only that, but it also gives us a very clear difference between this stage and stage 4

As for stage 4?? Woooh boi, it’s the stage I like to call “plunging into darkness”

We also don’t have much canon info about this stage, but one of the things i find interesting is the fact Killer deliberately keeps it a secret from everyone, when he tells Color about his stages, he only tells him up to stage 3, never bringing up stage 4, only for Chara to sneer at Killer that he shouldn’t keep it from his new BFF

It’s obvious Killer himself is very uncomfortable with the subject of stage 4, it’s apparent that it’s a stage that he rarely gets to, but it still bothers him enough to not want to even mention it, which makes sense, cause the comic we had of stage 4 shows that Killer gets to that stage when he’s reminded of all the murders he committed, and unsurprisingly, when he’s reminded of his brother, as what triggered this stage is actually a memory of Papyrus telling Sans to “see a puzzle”, only to be followed by memories of screams of anger, fear, and hatred of those he killed immediately afterwards, stage 4 is heavily related to his trauma

Not to mention it’s clear that when Killer gets to stage 4 he blacks out, he’s completely unaware of anything he does during this stage, and is only left to deal with the aftermath when he gets back to his senses, the fact it’s also a stage that seems to be “getting worse” is something that Killer definitely seems to hate

It sometimes makes me think whether Killer had gotten into trouble cause he killed someone Nightmare wanted alive while at this stage, cause with how he keeps it a secret, I’d assume Nightmare would be unaware of it for a while (comic idea perhaps >:) )

But y’know what’s better than talking about the stages?? Talking about Killer’s personality, behaviors and trauma

Killer can’t distinguish between what’s real or not, and it’s obvious he sometimes sees the world in the third person, as in he’s not completely there at times, not to mention the amount of voices he hears in his head, from his stages talking to him to hallucinations of Chara, Frisk and Papyrus, and oooh boi does he hate these hallucinations, the past obviously haunts Killer and it’s something he tries running away from constantly, yet he can never truly run from it when it follows him everywhere

Killer has a smile on his face most the time, but his attitude changes especially when Chara is mentioned, or when he’s reminded of his past in any way, he literally avoids food that reminds of his past life as “sans”, he freezes up at certain phrases such as “best friend” (something i also made a comic about that i never shared chchhchc)

He just absolutely hates to be reminded of the person he used to be, of all the things he used to have, cause in truth? They were all taken away from him by his own hands, only to be then forced to work under Nightmare, who only ensures that he never finds peace of mind

And the sad part? Killer let’s all those things hurt him, he lets Nightmare have his way with him, he lets Chara torment him, cause he thinks he deserves it, and most importantly, he deluded himself into believing that this is what he wants because it’s what everyone else wants, because it’s what the player wants

Killer even sometimes tries to force himself not to feel anything, cause come on, since when does he feel anything at all?

Killer, to put it bluntly, hates himself, and he thinks that his suffering is the Karma of what he’s done, and even at one point, he was going to erase himself out of existence cause he believed that’s what he deserved, as in Killer thought of himself as unworthy when it comes to Papyrus, that his brother doesn’t need him, that his brother is better off without him, hell he even tells Color that he needs to kill him if he ever reaches stage 3, it’s an obvious “ i want someone to put me outta my misery” attitude

Killer feels hopeless, and so he lets himself suffer thinking he can’t ever find peace or hope again

Yet the interesting part? You’d never know that Killer hates himself unless you’re a being of emotions (Nightmare and Dream) or someone who’s perceptive enough to notice Killer’s self-loathing like Color, that’s how good of an actor Killer can be, you’d think he’s a cold emotionaless killer but the truth only shines to those who actually can see through his act

Killer just has that amazing character depth and his story is genuinely so unique and beautiful, cause you in his story you can find details of other details within the details vhvhvjvj

All that? Mixed with really adorable little things like his love for cats, his silly attitude, his nonchalance with Nightmare, his capacity to be social with whoever, and his friendship with color? That is why I love Killer Anon <33333

[avonne-writes]

hm I think its very interesting that although u think buck bottoms more, they're still willing to switch (I really agree with this take and I actually think it makes the most sense). how do u think sex changes when who tops/bottoms changes and why do u think they each prefer both (basically what im saying is what is it about bottoming and topping that's each of their favourite parts)!

It's always interesting to talk about these intimacy headcanons! These can differ vastly based on how you interpret the characters, but this is my take on it.

Headcanons under the cut:

In general, how sex changes for them

If Bucky bottoms, it's rougher, which is what he wants. He knows he shouldn't be rough the other way around.

On normal days, regardless of who tops or bottoms, Gale helps calm Bucky's excitable energy. He's more in control of the situation.

On Gale's vulnerable days, he’s going to bottom and will put everything into Bucky's hands.

Buck's personal preferences

When he bottoms, it feels like an affirmation of trust to him, and it's something he likes to give to Bucky.

As a bottom, he likes not having to wonder if it's good enough because it's obvious from how hard Bucky is.

He likes the weight of Bucky's body on him, of Bucky manhandling him and holding him in the position they want. It makes him feel so safe and loved. Usually, he's still calling the shots but if he’s having one of those submissive nights all of this is amplified. (you will see in detail in the subspace fic)

This isn’t something conscious but he also just enjoys being given things, and yes, that includes a certain part of Bucky's body.

Finally, just something as simple as the physical sensation - he just loves that kind of deep, slowly building pleasure you get from prostate stimulation more than the faster but shallower sensation of topping.

Topping is nice too, and he especially likes how he can basically fuck the restlessness out of Bucky if he does it well.

That said, he’s flexible about top-bottom roles and quite inflexible about submission and dominance. He’ll keep the reins in his hands for the most part on normal days and submit completely on difficult days. By this I mean on normal days, he doesn’t mind or even likes that Bucky doesn’t submit to him and there's always this playful push back, but he won't relinquish the final say. He'll keep the control. But on submissive days, he doesn’t make any decisions and can’t be provoked to take back control. He'd just end the encounter if Bucky tried.

Obviously, his submission is a bit of a whiplash at first but it all starts to make sense to Bucky when he realizes it comes from a combination of deep trust + emotional distress + inability to articulate a need for comfort + inability to accept comfort unless he’s made to take it.

Bucky's personal preferences

It's likely that the only person he has ever bottomed for is Gale. Even if he had other sexual contact with men before, he’s too big and doesn’t have the personality to draw attention from tops. He was a womanizer too, so being on the receiving end is something way less familiar to him.

He loves bottoming the most when it hurts just right. He has masochistic tendencies so the pain of that stretch makes him rock hard. He always tries to goad or urge Gale into putting it in after only the slightest prep.

He also likes play-fighting and wrestling, and if Gale tops, he’ll constantly try to move and squirm and buck against him just to make Gale put him harder in his place. (He's a brat)

He prefers topping because of 1) the visuals(!!), 2) the sensations - yes, he prefers something tight squeezing around him to something hard pushing into him, 3) he loves giving things, including that certain body part 😉, 4) he loves the idea that he’s of service as a man.

He likes putting his entire body weight on Gale even in a non-sexual way, but even more so when they're making love. He had to be more careful with the women he slept with, but not with Gale.

Gale's submissive nights are a challenge to him but they’re also the most rewarding.

These are the headcanons that came to my mind at the moment but I feel like there are more things that can be said about this. What do you guys think?

[spideyhexx]

I've been pondering this all day

Snow hates the thought and feeling of vulnerability especially when it comes to love, friendship, and even his family despite the sacrifices made for his wellbeing and advancement. Excuse the run on sentences

This leaves him the inability to have a normal relationship especially romance and family. Not to mention his entitlement, sense of pride, classism, and overall Capitol mindset as a whole. This is why he "loves" as well as hate DC!reader she doesn't have the those same vulnerabilities that stun her perception and growth. She can see Snow for who and what is Snow and most likely who he'll becom. Not to mention Capitol assumptions that most has about Snow. One would expect it was easier for Snow to manipulate her. Seeing that she's district and at a social disadvantage. She's more than likely will always been seen as district. Just like in my like post/ask just because you got money doesn't mean you'll be readily accepted in the Capitol. Most of this classmates probably lived on the lima bean diet while the Civil War was going on. Yet they still look down upon the districts as if their lives weren't almost the same up till that point. In fact most if not all see this act as terrorism, anarchy, and a direct insult to the Capitol. Like they take offense to the uprising like someone mistreated them rather than the other way around. This speaks volumes to their entitlement as well as nativity. Like of course they don't see the districts as people with rights. I bet that seeing reader and Sejanus prancing around the Capitol just like them irks some nerves. Especially with the older generation because Tigris and Snow were kids during the Dark Days. All this and more plays into the development of Snow's mind and psyche. Don't get me started on Grandma'am and her influence. There's no doubt in my mind that she fed into Snow becoming who he is.

Especially with his early years during the first rebellion. I believe she think Coriolanus could do not wrong and that DC! reader should be more than happy that he's interested in her. Like the only one who doesn't think like this is Tigris

Sorry this turned into less about Coriolanus.

Ps. There is more. I just had to get this out before I forget it. Lucy Gray is up next. All this plays into everything.

Just to add on to last thing. The Capitol is not the Capitol because of money. The money comes to them because of their power in mistreating, degrading the districts. Another thing is I believe the Capitol mindset as a whole has blinded most of the occupants especially Snow. If he realizes that as a person you need more than money and status to make a relationship work then he may or may not do the work to actually improve himself not to just get reader. Like this guy is so cut off from any sense of emotional intelligence.

Am gonna assume this was you <3

Vulnerability is the worst thing for Coriolanus. If it seeps through and someone sees it, he'd probably have a meltdown. I agree with all you said!!! I think his "love" for you is also somewhat of an admiration in the sense that he wishes he observed life the way he sees you do so. And the mere fact that you're able to get under his skin and come to realize his true intentions or his innermost understandings of the world at play, it's frightening to him.

It gives you this unspoken power over him. And yes, your other classmates and even their parents would be looking down upon you as you make your stance in the Capitol, but something that Coriolanus would be attracted to is your determination and defiance against this. You kept trying despite this and he has that same tenacity, so it makes sense he'd commend you for it (while still thinking less of you). It's like he considers himself different from his classmates and their elite parents because he at least acknowledges the fact you have skill and intelligence, but he's not really different at all as he still thinks less of you.

Oh yes. Sejanus and you would be rather carefree. I think he's more likely to be conscious of stares and gossip about the two of you, but your own determination overrides it and you two try to just enjoy your relationship no matter what anyone says or thinks.

Grandma'am of course had a part in Coriolanus' views. She'd be coddling him about his expressed sadness that you won't let him into your life and she would go on about how you should be lucky he's even looking in your direction.

Everything you said about the Capitol is very true. I don't have much to add to that, but it does deeply influence Coriolanus and I think he has a twisted sense of emotional intelligence which just contributes to him being contradictory to himself all the time.

let's chat here :)

[erinelliotc]

Talking about "Ed, Edd n Eddy" outside of Tumblr with (probably) heterosexual cisgender neurotypical men is just... frustrating. I feel like I'm talking to a door. The guy got mad just for stating the simple fact that what the Kankers do to the Eds is sexual harassment. I mean, how can anyone deny that? I thought it was, like, obvious to everyone lol. I made it very clear that it's my favorite cartoon and that admitting that what the Kankers do is sexual harassment doesn't mean it's bad or that it should've been canceled, and the guy just said he wouldn't read my text. It's ridiculous.

People outside of Tumblr are so lazy and this scares and saddens me because I love writing and I can hardly summarize my thoughts. I mean, it's okay if you don't want to read it, but then at least keep quiet and don't give your opinion on something you don't know about or assume what the other person said. People simply leave discussions with a simple "I won't read it" and feel victorious for it, even if the person in question is agreeing with them, agreeing more than disagreeing, or only partially disagreeing. They treat "writing too much" as having already lost the argument itself and that doesn't make any sense. The worst part for me is that being lazy to read and having the inability to formulate a counterargument has already been widely normalized on the internet as winning an argument, and it totally pisses me off.

Why are people so lazy to... think, discuss and reflect? To use their fucking brains!? They just want to attack people for no reason and be right at all costs! They act stupid and others agree with them! Ugh, I should just stay on Tumblr. I've already accepted that this is the only nice and safe (or at least the nicest and safest) place for neurodivergent / autistic people.

Anyway, about what happened:

It was in this Instagram post:

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Millennial & 90's Content (@paraeden90s)

Comments started here:

I replied emir.d95 with this text:

I mean, it is sexual harassment. Admitting this isn't the same as saying that the cartoon is bad or that it should've been canceled (far from it, it's literally my favorite cartoon of all time), it's just stating a fact. It's like denying that Ed has an intellectual disability and is bullied because of it, or that Kevin is a bully (at least in the initial seasons), these are things that aren't explicitly said in the show, but are obvious and don't make it bad (furthermore, it was the 90s/2000s, it was a cartoon within what was considered normal for the time). Problematic things and complications happen, they are part of life, showing them in a cartoon isn't the same as agreeing with them. It was very clear that the Kankers were a bother to everyone and nobody liked them. Danny Antonucci said the Kankers were based on a group of girls he knew during his 7th grade school year. In his words "they're based on a pair of Grade 7 girls who true to form were always on the lookout for potential boyfriends. They frightened us with their intensity and attitude yet they always wanted to play the innocent with the older guys whom they wanted to date". They were based on real girls who were actually scary, cynical and a nuisance to Danny and others. The Kankers are supposed to be creepy, problematic, a pain in the ass, and disgusting. One of the biggest features of this show is the gross things, disgusting the viewers, and the Kankers and them abusing the Eds and sometimes others is one of those gross things. And before anyone says something like "It's just a cartoon, it's not that deep bro", we're talking about "Ed, Edd n Eddy", a show that literally addresses domestic violence, shows the main character's redemption arc and how his brother's abuse influenced him to act the way he did, and consequently teaches about friendship, forgiveness and acceptance. It's not just a silly cartoon, it also touches on serious subjects when necessary, sometimes in a more shallow, light and humorous way, or in a more explicit and profound way, like in the movie. The Kankers are abusers, just like Eddy's brother, and his punishment in the end is precisely being abused by them. Like it or not, "Ed, Edd n Eddy" teaches us, even if unconsciously and subtly, that girls can also be abusers and boys can be victims of sexual abuse. It's a great show for a laugh, but also for learning some valuable lessons every now and then. The movie was supposed to have even more serious and touching scenes, but unfortunately they didn't fit into the available time and budget.

Then I got these:

So, yeah... The lesson is: Don't expect a healthy in-depth dialogue about "Ed, Edd n Eddy" with people outside of Tumblr xD

[balladingbard]

Hermes and the Importance of Being Yourself

We’ve used a lot of words to describe Hermes.

Depressed. Isolated. Selfish. Hurting. Perhaps even cruel or cold. There’s a lot to say about the Ancient that became the rock thrown that started the Final Days, but amongst the many lessons we can glean from his story, I haven’t seen too much being said on a trait that seemed to be one of his biggest challenges: an inability to accept himself.

We see this trait on display both in game and in the Lodestone side story, “A Question of Life”. Hermes is an overseer who seems closer to his creations than coworkers, a man who even Emet-Selch says, “doesn’t belong here.” He’s a bit of an outcast, seeing the ugly truth of reality, but attempting to fix it by searching the stars.

In the side story, Hermes reaches out to peers while in Elpis to see if anyone else understands what he’s feeling. He’s met with false hopes and sympathy rather than empathy, and by the time he reaches Amaurot to take Fandaniel’s seat, he buries his true self, along with his questions and struggles, just so he can fit in with society and benefit the Star. “Tell them what they want to hear”, he says as his concerns fall on misunderstanding ears.

It’s a burden that weighs him down to the point of despair. “Am I the aberration?” he asks the Warrior of Light. To feel so different…so odd…so alien from everyone else? Hermes longs for change, yes, but deep down, he also just wants to feel…normal. Happy. At peace. And if he can’t find that at home, perhaps it’s in the stars. Perhaps the despair that plagues him on Etheirys will be relieved somewhere else in the Universe.

As we learn in Endwalker, the answer that Hermes was looking for had been in front of him the entire time. But I think the happiness Hermes was searching for could be found in more than just simple joys and finding friends. He also needed to be content with himself - who he was, different from society or no.

In an interview after Endwalker’s release, Yoshi P mentioned how Hermes’ tale would’ve been quite different had he been able to join Azem on their adventures in the Ancient world. But I think it’s more than just seeing the impact of helping others - had Hermes been able to be friends with Azem, he would’ve learned that it was okay to be different. That he wasn’t the only Ancient who saw problems in the world and wanted to fix them. That yes, sometimes being different doesn’t always make you fit in, but it can make you stand out, to be a voice for the voiceless and to show truth to a world living a lie.

Hermes wasn’t the only Ancient who marched to the beat of their own drum. Azem marched loud and clear, usually to the annoyance of others (cough cough looking at you, Lahabread), but also to the thankfulness of the countless lives they impacted for the better. But the difference between Azem and Hermes was that Azem believed in themselves - accepted that they were different and celebrated it. Hermes didn’t. Instead, he bemoaned the state of the world that wouldn’t conform to his ideals, trying to change it through outside forces. And, after arriving in Amaurot, he conformed to their ideals instead, imprinting misery so deeply into his soul that when he was reborn, he became twisted and crueler than his peers ever were.

It’s a tragic end for a man who held so much promise, but like any story, it’s a good lesson for us all. As we head into 2023, I encourage you - love yourself. Be kind to the gentle soul that you are. And even if you feel a little odd or different, just know that you’re not alone. There’s other “Azems” out there who may feel just like you. And who knows? Like Hermes, you may cross paths with that Azem one day and find a kindred spirit.

Just…er…don’t release any sad blue birds bent on destroying the universe to get their attention. ;)

Happy New Year, everyone! May your 2023 be as amazing as you.

[mmaxie-musings]

Actually, Dhelmise don’t perform mitosis— given that they are multicellular by virtue of being macroalgae— but instead undergo a similar process called fragmentation, like everyday seaweed. However, this only seems to occur in the event that one or more of the upper blades, or “leaves”, is detached, along with a portion of the holdfast; without both, a new individual can’t form. Even if both parts are present, it seems that most of the time a new one won’t actually develop, and instead the result is just seaweed that is indistinguishable from others of the same variety save for the inability to reproduce sexually via spores. For a time it was theorized Dhelmise could reproduce sexually via spores, explaining their genetic diversity, but this hasn’t been observed, nor has a Dhelmise with sporophylls ever been documented. It’s believed this is a side effect of the transformation from normal seaweed/kelp to Dhelmise, and why kelp grown from one remains infertile.

On that note, I didn’t get into the hardly understood development of new Dhelmise, which hasn’t been conclusively documented, but is described in the folklore of many seafaring peoples as the consistent idea of souls possessing or merging with seaweed, or the seaweed itself gaining/having a soul and achieving sentience. It’s generally accepted that it’s a similar process to the one that creates Bramblin on land, but research into the formation of either is rather difficult on account of the very specific circumstances required, and the fact that you can’t (ethically) recreate them in an observable setting. Doing so would probably be described as performing a funny little thing called “murder” and wouldn’t be a very popular or kind decision.

Big fan of Dhelmise, honestly, they’re unusual and often misunderstood fellas and a lot less scary than TV makes them out to be most of the time. I’ve been trying to learn as much about them as possible, and even just going down the poképedia rabbithole is a great way to spend several hours if you have nothing better to do… Signed, random trainer who’s starter was a Dhelmise due to unusual circumstances involving pokébeans and not knowing what to do when Large Hecking Thing decided to leave the water and simply didn’t stay put after I enacted the Back Away Slowly protocol.

P.S.: the Steelworker ability doesn’t have much of anything to do with ions, they’re just good at utilizing metal due to their species-wide preference for that particular kind of material. Sorta like that bird Pokémon that loves dropping rocks enough to be proficient in battle with them… Bomberdier? Bombirdier? Something like that. If they weren’t such incompatible types and also inhabitants of entirely different ecosystems I bet they’d understand each other. Oh to be a weird thing that will look at a hard object and go “yea I think I’ll specialize in beating things with this”….. Instead I had to be born a human and I gotta do things like “get a job” and “stop befriending weird beasts” and “get a hobby that doesn’t center around one or two extremely specific or niche topics”. Maybe I wanna start throwing rocks at people or beating them with random junk I found in the ocean, why can’t those be valid career paths huh

anon I love you.

firstly, THANK you for correcting me. I couldn’t remember the word for fragmentation so I just said Fucked Up Mitosis.

the ions thing may have been a certain thing? they were connected to klefki in that manner (they absorb ions of the keys they steal) but yes, dhelmises do decide to take things from the sea and beat things with it. it SHOULD be a career.

i, surprisingly know a dhelmise! he’s not caught, but just a lot of Afterlife Fuckery. his name is sev and he’s like a fresh-our-of-jail uncle to my fatherless boyfriend. it’s great. he likes sinking ships and he has a husband.

it’s funny because ghost types have varying levels of retaining “souls??” it’s very interesting. rotomblr also happens to have a lot of cross-universe fuckery. and sapient pokemon. there are a lot of those

anyways, very correct about dhelmises being victim to misconceptions. much like mimikyu there are nasty rumors of “they kill you and hate people and kill and kill and evil and violent” they just are very territorial and Don’t Like It when your big ass boat fucks up where they live. they don’t even hurt humans (on purpose. but it’s kind of your fault if you get in the way of 14 foot anchor creature)

anyways again anon ilysm for this. if only i could have a dhelmise. and as a STARTER no less? oh my arc that’s amazing. pokemon behavior is pretty connected to their nature and I think you just were Taken by a friendly one. big ghost anchors need friends too.

this ask made my day. AUG

[sfsolace]

Bridging the gap

Aspects of Neurodivergence in "Hakumei & Mikochi"

Part 1: Sen and Autism

A quick disclaimer before i start: Nobody in the story has been diagnosed with anything. It's manga about tiny people living in trees and stuff. Heck, there's people in real life who are most likely neurodivergent that just can't get an appointment anywhere to get diagnosed.

That being said, I've spotted a couple of things in the manga that spoke to me and i thought I'd share my thoughts about it.

This was originally a post about multiple characters in "Hakumei & Mikochi"; but i found so much to talk about with regards to Sen, that i split it into two posts.

Also normally I post screenshots first, then i explain what's going on in the picture; for this post i will write first and follow up with the screenshot. I hope this will still make sense.

Very minor spoilers for chapter 3, 4 and 7 of the manga, major spoilers for chapter 20.

Sen clearly has some autistic traits, in my opinion. She's depicted as oblivious to social cues and she has a very calm demeanor compared to the others. She also has a different vocabulary to them, not so much that characters comment on it in the story; but noticeable enough that it sticks out.

She also has (what i would call) a hyperfixation: her research. When talking about this, Sen gets fired up and has a seemingly endless supply of things to talk about.

Also in Chapter 4, she insists that "every house needs a laboratory" and makes some... peculiar design choices that are not considering what is traditional or socially accepted.

She also has an aversion to noise, seen in this screenshot i took from a later chapter.

You can also see it in chapter 3 when she tells Hakumei to make less noise because "George the turtle skeleton doesn't like it". Now, skeletons in the story are confirmed to have sentiments like that, but it's interesting to note that George seems fine while Sen admittedly doesn't like noise. So it is possible that she just used him as an excuse to avoid conflict.

Also interesting to note that later in the same scene as the first screenshot, Conju tries to antagonize her by saying she'll write her next song just for Sen, a "difficult, demanding little ballad", obviously a veiled jab at her. Sen doesn't seem to pick up on it and seems indifferent in general.

Conju is a very allistic character in my opinion, she loves emphasis and exaggeration and she has no problems making her feelings known to people. She does have problems socializing sometimes, but that is more due to her being, for the lack of a better term, a bit extra.

This is why chapter 20 pairs up Sen and Conju and focuses on the conflict that arises from that. From what we know in the manga, a lot of people seem to be easily charmed by Conju and she relies on those skills to make friends.

These skills don't seem to work much on Mikochi, as we see in Chapter 7; and in Chapter 20 we see Conju being downright frustrated at her inability to establish a connection to Sen. This feels very relatable from an autistic perspective. She tries to communicate in the way that is familiar to her and Sen doesn't respond how she expects it.

I think the manga does a great job at highlighting that neither of them is right or wrong for feeling/communicating this way; and that, by getting over their irritation, they can actually find common ground and build a friendship.

It's also important to note that Hakumei and Mikochi can serve as a buffer between Conju's and Sen's vastly different communication styles and often make an effort to "bridge the gap". It reminds me of the scene in Dungeon Meshi, where we see how Laios relies on his sister to bridge the gap for him. (See below)

During chapter 20, we see Hakumei and Mikochi repeatedly trying to engage both Conju and Sen, trying to smooth out any misunderstandings.

After hearing Sen singing along to a song with just "Lalala", we even see Conju on her next gig, singing a popular song without lyrics, so people feel more emboldened to sing along with it. So we know that their time together has had an impact on how Conju practices her singing.

At the end of chapter 20, after their shared adventure, we see Sen actually coming to see Conju sing. She doesn't make her way all the way inside the venue, but listens in from the door, accompanied by Hakumei and Mikochi. Conju sees her friends showing up and sings the actual song she wrote for Sen. It is a calm, quiet tune; so she actually tells the fully packed bar to be quiet while she plays.

I think after a chapter filled with so much interpersonal conflict, it is a really sweet way to wrap it up. Sen, with the help of Hakumei and Mikochi, feels emboldened to try something outside of her comfort zone. And Conju learns that her allistic experience isn't universal and that she can include people who would be left out otherwise.

That's my thoughts about Sen and chapter 20, i hope it makes sense even outside my own head. ^^

I know this would be better as a companion post for chapter 20, but I that is still 20 whole weeks away and i couldn't wait that long.

I'm currently working on the second half of this post, discussing neurodivergent traits in Hakumei and Mikochi, so please stay tuned for that!

Thank you for reading!

[bongwooder]

idk I guess I could make an official post about it since I've been basically regressing to 12 year old me anyways and she LOVED to overshare on this godforsaken website

click more for ramblings if ur curious! definitely interested in hearing others perspectives since I am very socially isolated rn compared to most people I guess

ever since my ADHD diagnosis and possible autism diagnosis I've just been thinking a LOT about my life including my gender and sexuality. like, ever since my parent's divorce in 2022 I've been unravelling a lot of trauma I didn't even know I had, including how my roommate has helped me realize truly how emotionally neglected I was a child. it is NOT normal for a child to be online essentially 24/7 from ages 8-18. I think I really did some serious damage because my parents were too fucked to bother to check on me and make sure I like... went outside. had friends. showered. basic hygiene etc etc etc and of course I didn't know any better because uuuhhh children need to be TAUGHT things not just yelled at to do it or made fun of for their unknown disability. and I've been going through points of time where I'm MAD. like, PISSED. that my parents let me do that to myself. a little insecure neurodivergent girl searching, yearning, begging for ANYTHING to explain her inability to cope with reality and sensory overload, to socialize and make friends at school, to feel like her life had meaning and that what was not known at the time to be symptoms of her disability weren't just personal failures

so, of course, I feel like the moment I realized I may have a group that would actually accept me as I was, I latched onto it. and that was my beginning identifying as transgender. I've said this before to irl friends, but my thoughts at the time were "well I'm a completely well adjusted intelligent person [child], but I can't seem to get along with my female peers, so I must be a male actually!" but then like... idk why I always failed to realize the boys didn't like me either?? so it's not "girls don't like me because I'm too masculine and boys don't like me because I'm too feminine" it was actually just "no one likes me because I'm autistic"

and it's strange because I feel like the physical dysphoria felt VERY real, hating my chest and my genitals, but also like... I went through puberty kinda early and also bc I was fat I "had" to wear a bra VERY early. so I think I was resenting the sexualization of my body and coping with the fact that boys paid me 0 mind in any sort of dating context when that became relevant. So I think my dysphoria was actually more like dysmorphia?

and I think I only ever "hated pink and girly things" because I so desperately wanted attention from ANYONE, for SOMEONE to ask me what's wrong or why I thought that way, for someone to tell me it's okay to be a girl even though I'm fat and autistic. and it just never happened. and I grieve for that little girl who never felt like she could express herself in fear of what people would think bc she truly had no positive adult figures in her life. and I can't help but feel deep anger for the teachers around me who didn't realize just how deep the damage was, or if they did and told my parents and THEY chose to do nothing, I feel deep anger with them.

I thought maybe if I could just be a boy I didn't have to worry that much about being attractive to boys or being skinny or being pretty. then I could just be myself! and I think that did serve a purpose for its time.

I don't regret identifying as trans or any social transitioning I have already done. I love being Ollie, although I do wonder if another name may suit me better in these times. I know I'll always have an unconventional self expression but I just wonder what it would be like to be an independent adult woman because I've never been that, and I've never had adult women friends that have reached a level of platonic intimacy with me where I can discuss this and explore it with someone who has always lived as a woman! i yearn to decorate my body and dress myself in ways that reveal the the body I am proud to have carry me day by day no matter how large. I yearn to sink into softness and receive love, I don't want to fight for reciprocation. I don't want to be codependent but I just want to feel taken care of for once in my life instead of feeling like I'm crawling and clawing my way through life not knowing where the hell I'm going. I don't even know what womanhood/femininity MEANS but I want to try it! I think I'd enjoy it! do I have permission to try it? am I allowed to enjoy it? I hate that I need to be "brave" and "resilient" just to exist in my fucking body and brain. I resent the poisoned masses for resenting me but I know I know kindness and i know I am beautiful and I know I can provide happiness for others, I'm just also ready to be provided for too from a woman just as strong and beautiful and intelligent and kind and funny

I think I skated my point a little bit but even after saying all this, I don't know if I'll ever feel "cis." i think my life played out how it needed to for me to get here and now. my biggest fear is "coming out as cis" and having everyone who ever doubted my transness or invalidated me (including my own family) tell me "I told you it was a phase" because YEAH, MAYBE IT WAS. but at least I've been actively trying to listen to my body and brain to build the life I think will make me happiest in the context of my consciousness. and I just want to surround myself with people who trust me and know I'm smart and know this is something I think about deeply before projecting

all this to say I have a lot of work to do, and I'm excited to do it, cis or trans

[lord-riverstyxx]

Welcome to my blog friends

As you guessed from my bio, I am a Steven Stoughton irl. My source media is the pokepasta Strangled Red (and the other parts Door’s Open and Strangled) and you may have heard of me from the FNF mods Hypno��s Lullaby or Pokepasta Perdition. Apart from irl/fictionkin, I am also otherkin.

Other irls include:

Grey (currently exclusive to FNF Hypno’s Lullaby mod) [weaker irl] 💿🪦

Alternate!Cesar Torres (Mandela Catalogue) ☎️🥀

Kevin (Spooky Month) 🍬💢

Adam Murray (Mandela Catalogue) 👁️‍🗨️🍎

Inosuke Hashibira (Demon Slayer) 🐗🗡️

John Doe (John Doe) 👁️🦷 (has a separate blog @lil-doedoe +18 ONLY)

Hank J. Wimbleton (Madness Combat) 💣🎱 (has yet another separate blog @bl00dysexpxrty but warning for weapons and violence)

Vincent Charbonneau (Dead Plate) 🔪🥩

I also kin (but not to an irl extent like Steven):

Astarion (Baldur’s Gate 3) 🦇

Kotoko Utsugi (Danganronpa) 🎀

Ruby (Pokespe) 🧵

Kuromi (Sanrio) 😈

Medic (Team Fortress 2) 🏥

Mukuro Ikusaba (Danganronpa) ⛓

Seiko Kimura (Danganronpa) 💊

Kirumi Tojo (Danganronpa) 🕸

Tavros Nitram (Homestuck) ♉️

Giyu Tomioka (Demon Slayer) 🌊

Nezuko Kamado (Demon Slayer) 🎋

Black Pearl Cookie (Cookie Run Kingdom) 🔱

Randall Purpura (Purple) ☔️

Astolfo (FGO) 💗

Rosaria (Genshin Impact) 🛐

Lisa (Genshin Impact) (we even share the same birthday!!) 📚

Tate Frost (Purple/Frost Bite) (except he’s super fucking cunty /hj) 🪓

Maison Talo (House Hunted) (MIGHT be irl but I’m not sure yet) 🏠

Pest (Roblox Regretevator) (questioning if irl) 🪲

Deimos (Madness Combat) ⌨️ [and maybe the rest of S.Q./Sanford and 2BDamned but I feel like that’s something else as a whole..]

And many more to come… (these lists are subjected to change)

(More below the cut):

My otherkin types (this list subjected to change):

Alternatekin (like the Mandela Catalogue)

Vampirekin

Dollkin

Eldritchkin

Cryptidkin (more specifically, Mothman)

⚠️ Warning!! ⚠️

This blog may possibly contain shocking, terrifying or suggestive content that may not be suitable for certain ages or people. Viewer discretion is advised.

If you choose to ignore this warning and enter this blog intentionally regardless of what I have said, then so be it. I’m not warning you again so don’t blame me for your negligence and inability to obey my rules.

Minors!! This also applies to you too. Don’t be looking at stuff you shouldn’t be looking at and go.

Also, don’t like what you see? Then move along or just block me. I don’t want to deal with you throwing a tantrum over my stuff.

Who is welcome:

Fans of FNF Hypno’s Lullaby or Pokepasta Perdition

Irl or fictionkin

Autistic/any form of neurodivergent

LGBTQ+

Vampire lovers

Weirdcore/dreamcore/nostalgiacore (tw for derealization?)

Creepypasta/pokepasta/general horror fans

Vintage/retro/silent film lovers

Goth, Emo, EGL, anyone alt

Roblox players

If you like male yandere/crazy boy dating sims

Fellow horror villain/slasher kinnies and irls (so I feel less lonely and learn to accept myself more)

General people who aren’t fucking assholes

DNI:

Basics (racist kkk nazi shit, homo/transphobe, allow cringe culture, pro harassment, ableist, always bringing some kind of discourse in normal spaces /s, etc)

Anti otherkin, fictionkin, irl, etc (why are you even here?)

Anti xenos/neopronouns (they’re not that hard to use but no pressure)

Minors (remember: some of the content here may not be suitable for anyone under 18)

If you judge others quickly/make fun of them based on their irl/kintypes or forbid someone from dating another because of their irls/kintypes (I love my partner dearly and I will make sure you understand that)

If you make fun of someone for their interests

General shitty people

I also tend to block freely, so if I see something that makes me feel uncomfortable in your blog then I apologize in advance

Interact with caution:

Steven simps: Some of you guys are.. interesting to say the least. But PLEASE do not be weird to me because I am a person with feelings too.

Astarion simps: While not as bad as the two above me, I humbly request that you don’t obsess over me.

Ruby haters: Yes people are allowed to have opinions but don’t let it be your whole personality. And this is not a place to express how much you hate me/Ruby.

Medic simps: I’ve only seen a few but Medic simps seem to be like Steven simps. Please please PLEASE don’t be weird to me because I won’t accept your feelings.

Alt!Cesar simps: I was once a Cesar simp denying his feelings until I found out I was an irl of him. And oh my god the simps are no different than Steven simps. And for that reason I really don’t want you to be weird to me please.

Adam simps/haters: It just gets better/worse. If you’re here to slobber over me or be pissy to me I’d rather you not because I am not providing you with anything.

Giyu or Inosuke simps: Why do I keep getting the baddies /j but as per usual don’t be a creep.

And that’s all I have to say. Please be civil and kind on this blog and do NOT spread negativity here. Nobody has time for such trivial stuff and I know I don’t so just be fucking nice and if you see something you don’t like then just leave. I have zero time for your tears.

Have a good day and sending kisses to you all, especially a certain person out there 💋💋💋

-Steven

[fqirycollective]

The Link Between ADHD and DID - A Theory!

Disclaimer

This is a personal theory that I created. This is based off my personal research and thoughts, and shouldn’t be treated as 100% fact. I’m not a professional, and these are just my own conclusions being drawn to make an overall observation. This being said, I have the theory that it’s a similar principle with autism as it is with ADHD and why so many systems are/have one or both, but I don’t have enough proper research on autism to say for sure. Please keep all of this in mind while reading!

First, how do systems form?

The current theory is the Theory of Structural Dissociation. In a simplified version, this theory says that all children are born with multiple ego states. As we grow up, these ego states integrate into one identity and personality. However, if severe and repetitive trauma occurs before they integrate (it happens all throughout childhood but “finishes” at around 7-9), the brain may start to rely on dissociation and dissociative barriers between ego states. This happens so one of the ego states can continue life as normal, despite the trauma and another can hold the traumatic memories and responses to keep the other from needing to deal with them. Those ego states then develop into their own personalities and identities. Disorganized attachment also plays a role, where the child has conflicting feelings about their caregiver where they both love and are afraid of them due to inconsistent patterns. Not all systems form from abuse, but 90% of systems do because of the disorganized attachment and how a lot of forms of abuse are normalized to where the caregiver may not respond adequately to the child’s needs. It’s important to remember that dissociation is a last resort and traumatic experiences once or twice won’t cause a system.

Does this mean there was nothing else to cope with?

This is a debated topic, from what I’ve seen? Not 100% sure about that, but there seem to be two iffy sides. However, you can have friends, teachers you trust, hobbies, etc. and still be a system. Just because you have things that are able to be used as a coping mechanism, doesn’t necessarily mean that the child knew to use it as such, especially if trauma happened early enough that you picked them up after dissociation became the primary coping mechanism. As for the friends and adults the child trusts? That would almost always require telling them about the trauma, which would mean the child would have to accept that the trauma was happening on some level which goes against what the disorder is about. 

How does this relate to ADHD?

Rejection sensitivity dysphoria is the first thing that came to mind. Other disorders can experience rejection sensitivity, but the dysphoria part comes from there not really being a trigger to the intense emotions (which is why the term RSD is ADHD-specific and others should use rejection sensitivity or RS for short!) and it’s instead from the learned behavior of rejection from peers, even without interaction whereas in other disorders, there is usually some type of interaction. With RSD, it’s extremely difficult to identify and regulate the intense reactions to perceived rejection. Abuse and disorganized attachment is based on rejection by others, especially since systems are often taught that abuse can co-exist with love. Struggling to cope with those emotions can lead to an increased chance of dissociation. One study found that 80% of children with ADHD are in the bullied and rejected classifications.

My Conclusions

Essentially, I have the theory that such intense emotions may lead it to be more likely for a child to dissociate due to the inability to regulate and therefore are overwhelmed by emotions easier. Beyond this, the high levels of rejection among children with ADHD makes it harder for them to make friends. I have personally even been rejected by teachers and other adults without them causing any type of trauma. This, paired with the fact that the child would have to accept the trauma to tell anyone, and that it’s frequent that the trauma starts before the possibility to gain hobbies to cope with, could make it likelier that the child dissociates instead of using other coping mechanisms. My theory is that so many systems have ADHD because of the likelihood they probably have to rely on dissociation more than other coping mechanisms that may help in the face of trauma.

[according2thelore]

just found your tumblr account and thought id give you the comments i never left on your fics. my top three are: I. “swallow my breath and take whats mine” nothing to say about this one except i live for feral sam, the fear for dean’s death and acceptance of letting himself be cannibalized just because he doesn’t want to lose him and at the end the contempt for john, for how far he’s willing to go just to train dean (his inability to understand that it is NOT normal has a whole other special flavor). it was short, lovely and heartbreaking with a je ne sais quoi in sam’s feelings towards dean. 10/10. II. “and its you that i want” this was more lighthearted, not accounting for the breakup between dean and girl X, the best part was sam needing to be used, his desire to be just a vessel for deans pleasure. also i love EVERYTHING that depicts sam’s discomfort with his size with his need to be smaller. overall the smut is so sexy and intimate and also i love the fact that theyre obsessed with each other even in another universe. i love every smith/wesson fic because i love to imagine their reactions when confronted with what they would do with each other when not being stuck with whatever inhibition theyre battling with. 12/10 just because it has smut. “souls tied intertwined by our pride and guilt” NO. WORDS. it is my most read fic on ao3 in the whole seven years ive used the platform and it was published less than a year ago. i love everything. every word, every emotion. the fic starts with the voyeur moment, dean’s guilt at the idea that it was sam’s worst terror and sam’s fear that he may have revealed too much and everything its now out in the open. “the dark side of the moon” is already a seriously angsty episode by itself, but your spin on it with their guilt, their shame and the continuous misunderstandings is lovely.

dean’s overthinking about when did he become so overwhelming to sam that he was TERRIFIED of his big brother, when did he become something that sam needed to escape from leaving for college? sams line that said he “always lived with it” had dean spiraling with guilt and shame and fear so much that he left and “threw” away the amulet. sam on the other hand is full of shame for his biggest desire is out there, the crippling need to have his brother, so debilitating that he had to escape, not from deans leering as he may think, but from his fucked up needs, his perversion of their relationship, of him feeling like he twisted up something genuine and good so much that his brother is now disgusted with him (i love when one of the two seems “disgusted” leaving the other feeling dirty and a pervert) overall i never found a fic that fit all of my reading needs as well as this one. you took a basic misunderstanding trope and spun it in a whirlwind of suffering, dejections, inhibitions and the best part GUILT AND SHAME.

i have no more words 100/10 i live for it. keep up with your writing because i live for it and eat up every single work you produce.

sorry if some bits are grammatically incorrect english is not my first language.

much love<3

HI ANON!!!! OMG!!!!!!!!!

thank you so much for this ask!!!!!! i actually think i have answered this one already, and thank you for being so kind!!!!!!! i want to make sure you can see this so i copy-pasted my answer below, bc i had such a lovely time reading this and responding to it!

anon...oh my god anon...anon...

okay so i'm thinking an autumn wedding? how soon do you think we could book a venue?? i mean, we could always elope.

but seriously, anon--holy shit. this ask made my MONTH. i don't know what i did to deserve such lovely and incredible people on this blog but i am so GRATEFUL!!!

just little responses to the comments:

EEP! thank you! desperately devoted winchesters are delicious! we see series!sam being incredibly unhinged about dean/his safety, so i was interested to explore how a pre-series!sam would navigate a situation like that. 

heehee i'm glad this one was good! charlotte beta'd the first half of this fic in public, and it was quite funny to watch her (a lesbian who is also new to A/B/O) give it a read. servicetop sam is something that i love that i also don't see a lot of, so i loved being able to add some in this universe where their power dynamics are slightly shifted (in the corporate ladder sense and also alpha/omega lol). a +2 for the smut!! hell yeah!!! thank you ! :)

okay, small guilty pleasure moment, i LOVE misunderstanding tropes. admittedly in big, long pieces of fiction (fan or otherwise) in the 40k+ category, i can get tired of it, but misunderstandings are such a great way to understand and explore the interpersonal and INTRApersonal strengths/weaknesses/flaws of characters and their understanding of the world they are in. i was afraid everyone was going to hate this fic on sight bc it's written for me (and charlotte) specifically (and i've found from some very vocal and angry people that they hate misunderstandings (not on this blog, thank goodness, everyone has been lovely!)), but i am SO INCREDIBLY HONOURED AND GRATEFUL AND GLAD that you like it!!!!! i don't even have words for how much all of the comments, but this one especially, meant!!! all of your comments breaking it down made me smile wider and wider!

i hope my work continues to be entertaining, and THANK YOU again for this lovely ask!! (ps, your grammar is stellar!! much love!!!)

-lizzy <3

(pps mwah mwah mwah mwah)

[nahalism]

You re getting very long questions &i apologize but i don’t think i can make this one short. Different anon i hope it’s okay to tag along. If i am not wrong here a lot of evolutionary psychologist among others go to the nature argument and state that homosexual orientation as we observe in some humans [so a persistent attraction to the same sex, as opposed to a situational one (for example when a partner from the opposite sex-to whom we are fundamentally attracted to-is not available to them so they ”compensate”)] is unnatural and should be corrected or at the very least accepted like any other mental issue but not normalized, treated as a sexuality disorder (because our purpose is to survive and procreate so everything that leads us away from it is a deviation from whats natural, normal and beneficial in this take, that it’s a dis-order and an undesirable state. That plus the argument that ”problems” with sexuality usually go hand in hand with other disorders and mental problems) the argument i saw is that there are cases of homosexual acts in animal kingdom but apparently it’s mostly either accidental, caused by inability to find a partner of opposite sex or if it does happen to be a persistent purely homosexual attraction then the animal gets somehow rejected (like in monkeys) just like they would for any other deviation from the norm. We can observe that they exclude or even ridicule in their own ways individuals that are ”different”, sometimes in rather cruel ways. So i guess that would make some straight people’s disgust and rejection of homosexual people valid and natural in that scenario?

Just to clarify i am not speaking of or from my own views&mind here & onley chiming in to mention something i have personally heard from professionals, something that has been a big block on the road of my own acceptance of my orientation and sth that irks me if i try to look to animal kingdom for answers/guidance and rely on nature arguments too much because they caused me to feel like a malfunction of it rather than part of it. I’d be most interested to hear what you think. I send well wishes

heyyy, disclaimer, im no authority on what is right and wrong. i dont know what the creators intentions are, i can only speak on my own feelings and convictions (all of which are constantly evolving and changing based on what i learn and come to know)

i have heard similar theories, and other theories that differ in their line of argument but lead to the same conclusion. id be lying if i said some of them didnt have a convincing edge/haven't caused me to question the validity of my own sexual orientation. but ultimately, i live life based on my own convictions and beliefs. you can only fight theories with theories, and im not about to formulate a theory to justify myself because i dont want to have to convince anyone of my right to exist as i am. however, what i do have are my feelings and my experiences. ive loved women, ive loved men, ive loved agender/nonbinary folks, and ultimately it all comes down to the same thing. loving another human being — i can tell you now, the love i felt in those moments, was and is incredibly pure. i have no doubt that god, or whatever you wish to refer to it as (if you refer to it at all), approved. and for me personally speaking that enough.

now.. this is controversial but id be lying if i didnt speak on it.. i do think there is a balancing of poles that occurs when a man and woman are together. something, energetically shifts with the joining of two opposing halves and i believe procreation is merely a metaphor/physical symbol for the creative possibilities that come as a consequence of that merging. i think when two opposite individuals learn to harness their receptive and assertive energies and balance those energies both within themselves and as a pair, a specific energetic portal is opened. other souls (aka babies) can come through that portal, however, so can so much more. (a topic for another time). that being said!!! i also dont believe the main purpose of life for both humans and animals is procreation.

the idea we all just come here to make babies and go is very anachronistic, and even more so with the current overpopulation of humans in the world (7.888 billion -__-). if we were all here simply to procreate, i think we'd have completed that mission and returned to source by now, no? perhaps, we are all here as different expressions of the same energy, gathering intel and experience that with the expression of each life, collectively encourages the evolution of our collective consciousness, thus progressing humanity, the beings we share the earth with, and the cosmos at large, forward — perhaps we are helping the universe learn and understand itself, or perhaps the universe is using us to teach one another its own nature, and the true face of love. thus, the love i have for you, for a dog, for my partner, for my mother, for a random pig etc, all compiles into a 'data bank/record' that creates a feedback loop, and each time i love well, or each time i lack love completely, the universal energy learns, we learn, we self correct, and we come closer to unity, closer to oneness, closer to love. unfortunately, contrast and conflict creates greater evolution and need for evolution that homogeny does. without superficial differences would we recognise the depth of our fundamental similarity? without pain/discomfort, would we wholly grasp the joy of experiencing pleasure/comfort?

anyway, to wrap it up, i believe that we all come here with different missions, and maybe for some, their mission is to practice that balancing of halves, and as such experience a hetrosexual relationship. however, for others, their mission may be something else entirely. it may be learning to love and meld with a reflection of their own energy, it may be teaching people that love can take multiple forms, and that the true definition of love is to take another person as a part of yourself and love them, unconditionally, without prejudice, regardless of who they love, or how different they are to the 'norm'. if my theory that the joining of any two individuals creates a form of energy exponentially larger than their physical form in realms invisible to the eye, that still stands for queer couples. fine, the energy may not take the same form in the sense that a child cant be born from it, but that doesnt mean its any less valid, any less important, or any less magnificent in its capacity for what it is able to create.

humans are full of theories and ultimately we as people have to live in our truths and trust in our own intuition before giving credence to the opinions and theories of other people, because after all, they are just people. they are no different to us, and nor are they exempt from being infalliable. be your self and love who you love proudly because loving in a world like this is never something to be ashamed of.

sending u love and well wishes <3

[xxxevilfilms]

Burn The Groove To Death

Info: It's Valentine’s Day and Chaos decides it's time to take his relationship with Giovanna to the next level.

Warnings For: Branding, Noncon, Sexual Abuse, Domestic Violence, Yandere(?), Dirty Talk, General Ickiness

As I said in my last post, yandere Chaos is best Chaos. Please heed the warnings, I don't write anything wholesome, and this is definitely something no one with a weak constitution should read. This is from my kinktober/one-shot series on my ao3. Actual fic is under the cut!

Chaos loved Giovanna. She wasn’t the most affectionate woman in the world, but Chaos loved her all the same. She had her quirks like any other girl, and in spite of her lack of affection and inability to express her own love for him, Chaos took her intractability in stride and did whatever he could to support his...girlfriend?

Wife?

Lover?

Fuck it, might as well call her his wife. It’s not like she’s going anywhere anytime soon.

The shopkeepers, neighbors, and gardeners who lived in the quaint little mountain village he’s settled into refer to her as his wife and in turn refer to Chaos as a good husband, a dutiful provider who has done a phenomenal job tending to his wife’s needs and wants. Giovanna doesn’t say anything when she hears the praise the townsfolk give to Chaos and his actions, opting to stay silent and look away whenever his name falls off their ignorant tongues. That was the most she did in public though; at home, she was much worse. Giovanna wasn’t the most demonstrative of the love Chaos was sure she held for him and liked to chew him out or sneak up on him with a weapon of her own choosing when she was really mad. Thankfully he was always able to shut her down quickly before she or that mangy dog of hers could do too much damage. 

It was honestly quite funny. A normal man would toss their girl out in a heartbeat for such awful behavior, but Chaos, in his insanity, loved it; he loved his unruly baby and the eternal flame that burned bright behind those gorgeous cerulean depths of her. He so desperately wanted to smother it and turn Giovanna into the proper whore wife she’s destined to become, what he’s written out for her in his metaphorical synopsis. She was a mulish, fierce little bitch that Chaos found great joy breaking down. For the longest time, he’s wanted to go further, watch her crack and split like a dead leaf as he fucked, beat, and spat the fear of God into her very being, but he was never sure how to do that until now.

He always enjoyed the concept of Valentine’s Day despite its vapidness. Dedicating an entire twenty-four hours of life to your lover was a saccharine concept, but Chaos appreciated the idea. Some couples were simply too busy with their individual schedules to spend time with one another, so to invent a holiday where you’re forced to acknowledge your significant other’s presence regardless of how you truly feel about them was an ingenious design in spite of the pallid, sentimental shroud that blankets the holiday. He wanted to give Giovanna that experience, force her to notice him, accept him, take him, and remember him not just for one day, but for the rest of her natural-born life.

It was like a light bulb went off in his head when he saw the Valentine’s Day deals that were pasted on the walls and windows of flower shops and bakeries, and Chaos refused to let that bulb burn out and die. He instead threw on his best clothes, visited the finest florists and hardware stores in town, and bought Giovanna a bouquet of beautiful pink azaleas and what might as well be her engagement ring.

After cruising through town for his “wife’s” gifts, Chaos finally returns to the cabin he kept Giovanna in and quickly opens the door to greet her with presents in hand. Upon entering their home, he sees Giovanna gazing longingly out the window, her eyes narrowing and nose wrinkling in disgust when she notices his presence. She doesn’t even bother meeting his gaze and keeps her eyes trained on the blowing leaves and trembling branches of the trees outside.

“Hey there, doll face.” He greeted airily, the older man nudging his face into her own once he was close to her. “Someone’s a little grouchy, huh? Lighten up, hon, it’s Valentine’s.”

Giovanna says nothing for a time.

“You reek...”

“Must be my cologne. I heard chicks dig natural musk.”

The former secret service agent sighed and tried turning her back towards him, but was halted by Chaos’ hand shooting to her shoulder.

“Hey, hey, hey, wait up a second, okay?” He uses his strength to turn her toward him, so she can see the expensive dress shirt, slacks, suspenders, and overcoat that he stole from some luxury outlet store. “Don’t you wanna see what I got you?”

Crossing her arms, Giovanna takes in the assortment of pretty flowers cradled by Chaos’ thick arm and the brown bag tucked under its twin. It made her scoff and finally decide to indulge in the man once it became apparent that he was serious.

“Fine, I’ll bite,” She rolled her eyes. “The hell is this?”

“Flowers. Azaleas, tiger lilies, and uh...some other fuckin’ thing I can’t remember.” He handed, or rather forced, the bouquet into Giovanna’s arm and flashed her a mad grin. “But they’re pretty though, yeah? Pretty flowers for my pretty baby.”

“Keep your damn weeds...” Giovanna grimaced at the bouquet in her hands before promptly shoving it back into Chaos’ arms. “I don't care what you do, I'm not falling for it."

"Ooh, that's not nice, doll. You really gonna be like that after I dump all this money on you?" He then laughed and asked, "Someone's getting a bit spoiled, ain't she?"

"Leave me alone," Giovanna bit back. "Why don't you fuck off back to the florist and return them then?"

"C’mon, baby. Chill it with the histrionics, you don’t wanna play this game, do you?" Chaos asked, the lilt in his voice so chipper it made Giovanna tremble like a bursting volcano. "I wanna treat you good tonight, doll, don't be like this. This ain’t no way for a wife to treat her husband last time I checked."

The utterance of such a title was enough to send her over the edge. Her nostrils flared while the bind on her forehead shifted from pale brown to bright red as brilliant green fur began manifesting behind her right shoulder.

Chaos responded accordingly. 

The bouquet falls to the floor in a heap when Chaos’s hand flies to Giovanna’s scalp, his long fingers weaving themselves into his wife’s auburn locks to yank her to the floor before she could summon Rei. Giovanna screamed and clawed at his wrist in response, manicured nails trying their hardest to render Chaos’ flesh as she’s dragged across the floor and through the hallway by her captor so he could take her to their bedroom. He chuckled at her struggle as he fought through the pinpricks of pain that she scratched into his skin. She was feisty today, and he liked it when she was feisty.

"I'm not and I'll never be your damn wife!" She shouted. "So unless you want to get splattered on a wall again, get out of my--”

“Man, Gio, you just love stirring me up, huh? Just love causing trouble for yourself? Man, it’s almost like you hate me or something!” Letting out a barely restrained cackle, Chaos hoists Giovanna to her feet so he can throw her on the bed. For the briefest moments, the apostle watches the younger woman scramble against the sheets to clutch her stinging scalp but halts any further movement from her by summoning a magical incantation that bounds her wriggling limbs to her sides. Giovanna growls, spits, and curses at Chaos like a wounded animal soon after, her creased brows and rictus grimace prompting Chaos to grab the brown paper bag that was stuffed under his arm and present its contents to her.

“Well, I think you’ll find a reason to hate me in a second...” Chaos ogled her squirming figure as he fetched for the heavy piece of iron and steel that sat prone in the bag. “Hell, you might even wanna kill me after you see this one, baby...”

Chaos sees Giovanna’s angry eyes tremble with fear when she sees him pull out a long and solid hunk of metal that measures over a foot long, topped with a near-perfect iron casting of the emblem imprinted onto Chaos’ chest.

Like the smart girl she is, Giovanna instantly recognizes what it is Chaos holds in his hand and visibly pales at what he has in mind for her.

“What the actual fuck is that...!?” She screamed out. “Get that shit away from, or I swear to fucking God, Kurt...!”

“What? Think of it as your wedding ring. I think it’s time we made this shit official, hon.” Chaos reassured. “Now on your belly, it won’t hurt as bad if I sear it on your ass.”

“No, no ! Get the fuck off me!”Giovanna fights against the invisible restraints that tie her limbs down but is helpless to Chaos’ ministrations. He flips her over, adjusts her legs so that she’s kneeling into the mattress with her ass in the air, and wastes no time dipping his fingers into the waistband of her sweats to pull them down to the backs of her knees. Giovanna cries out and squirms with all her might to get out from under her captor, but is given a smack on her left ass cheek when she tries.

“You should’ve been an actress, baby. I swear, the theatrics you pull off are a riot,” Chaos summons a small blue ball of burning hot fire from his hand to hold it up to the brand. “But you gotta stop moving, hon. The last thing we need is this fucker getting on your face.”

 “I knew you were crazy, but fucking hell...!” Giovanna yelled into the sheets. “Look, I’m sorry, I’ll do whatever the fuck you want, alright? Spoil me, pamper me, do whatever the fuck you want, but please, Kurt, not this shit!”

“I know I was being a bitch, we can talk this out, right? I’m sorry, I really am, I just get a little stir-crazy when you’re out for too long!” She’s on the verge of hyperventilating when sweltering heat radiating from the brand warms her sweating skin. “Come the fuck ON , Kurt! I don’t wanna fucking do this with you!”

“Eh? I am spoiling you, doll, what are you talking about?” He watched the brand’s iron glow bright orange from the fire while he tutted at his wife’s behavior. “I’m not kidding when I say this is your wedding ring. An eternal declaration of my love to you, a symbol of my dedication to our relationship, and uh...whatever else I saw in that shitty Hallmark card.” Once the brand began glowing red, Chaos took it off the fire and extinguished the flame before sitting back on his calves to get a good look at his wife’s big plump ass. Giovanna visibly shakes and shudders like a leaf when the sound of fire crackling against turgid metal ceases and pleads to Chaos again for mercy.

“Oh yeah, lemme hear you beg, baby,” Chaos moved the brand closer to her sweating skin and simpered evilly. “Lemme hear it.”

Giovanna pleaded more as the tears she tried holding back fell freely down her cheeks, but her pleas are silenced when Chaos finally held the brand to her left buttock.

The scream that left her soon after made him hard as a rock.

A long, broken, blood-curdling wail erupted from Giovanna’s throat when the brand made contact with her rear. Her skin sizzles and crackles under the heat of the iron’s weight, the metal making quick work of her ass by burning its emblem into her taut flesh with the help of its sadistic owner. Giovanna instinctively tried scrambling away from her crazed “husband” by waggling her hips as hard as she could but is stopped by Chaos who grabs the back of her neck and holds her down so he could press the brand harder into her buttock as punishment. Smoke quickly billowed around her burn the longer he forces the iron into her abused flesh, the pressure and pain ripping another fresh scream from Giovanna that sends a jolt straight to his cock. The fat of her ass jiggles and squishes around the iron’s deathly hot surface so prettily, Chaos entertains the thought of fucking her while he burns her ass to a crisp, but decides against it for now. Right now he wants to savor the moment, savor the thrill that came with forcing his gorgeous wife to take his “love,” and quickly praises her resilience by whispering honeyed poison into her ears.

“Feels good, don’t it, Gio? You're taking this fucking thing so good, how bout I give you a matching set, right on the other cheek, eh?" He jostled the brand against her flesh then to tease the idea, making her cry more.

"G-Get the f-fuck off of me NOW , Kurt...!" She wept. "It fucking hurts, it hurts so fucking much! Just stop it already!"

"I know, baby, I know, but just a little longer, yeah? Doing so good for me, can't wait to dick that sweet cunt down after we're done." He cooed sweetly. "Then I’ll clean ya up and you'll have a fresh new tat to show off... Well to me at least. We wouldn’t want any scum-sucking degenerates to see this beauty on ya!”

Chaos lets the brand linger on her burnt flesh for a moment longer before deciding to finally take it off. Giovanna belted out a strangled groan when he does, the younger woman unable to do much but lay there and shake her ass in the air in a desperate bid to give it some relief. As she snivels from the pain, Chaos ogles the heart-shaped charr mark he left in Giovanna’s flesh to admire the weeping flesh and ruptured blisters that marred her flawless brown skin. Chaos liked what he saw and whistled at the sight before bending over to give her wound a reverent kiss, his tongue catching the distinct taste of burnt meat on his lips when Giovanna twitched violently at the touch.

“So pretty, baby girl... Even better than the flowers I got ya,” He smirked from ear to ear and then sat up to fuss with the buckle keeping his slacks up. “Almost too pretty...” Uncinching his belt and pulling down his fly, Chaos frees his heavy cock from the confines of his dress pants to grip it in his hand and hold it over Giovanna’s sex. “That’s so goddamn hot, holy fuck...”

“Nngh...” Too exhausted to fight, Giovanna lets Chaos spit on his hand and rub her cunt with his fingers to lubricate her, her red eyes closing and voice catching in her sore throat when she felt the older man push in. She grunts and groans during it all, unable to fight and unable to push him away, and Chaos revels in the mess he’s made of her by tracing his thumb over the fresh brand on her ass again. Giovanna shrieked and then wished death upon him for that, but the empty threat and the sight of his “heart” on her flesh only makes Chaos fuck her harder, harder and faster like the slut he wants her to be.

“Now you’re my wife not only in name but in body, too...” He breathed out, pace unfaltering and breath already labored. “I love you, baby, I fucking love you and this tight hot cunt...”

Giovanna doesn’t say anything and opts to wait for Chaos to finish by closing her eyes and giving in to the exhaustion that quickly overwhelms her body.