#but of course no one cares to let ugly men be ugly as usual

[katyspersonal]

It is always so baffling for me when a canonically weird-looking and non-conventionally attractive (if not even ‘ugly’) male character is consistently drawn much more prettier, polished and beautiful and people PRAISE this as a good thing? I mean obviously not be mean to people for their art style, but it just rubs me in such a wrong way every time..

It doesn’t help that we all know that if it was to happen with a female character, everyone on the blue site would be upset about it and defend her unique features and imperfections with tooth and nail. But then when a male character is prettied-up compared to the canonical look, it is always seen as ‘thank you for your service uwu’ and ‘this is so much better than the canon uwu’.

[itspileofgoodthings]

.

[yanderefarm]

yandere crime lord introduction

cw;; torture, violence, yandere things, nsft

he's finally here. please feast your eyes on him. pretty boy. im amazed at how the three of them really do look like brothers. i was having a really hard time with his hair when i finally to give him curly hair like his brother and its such a good choice. ajax has some curl to his hair too so they all look related.

achilles is the eldest brother of ares and ajax. he's 35 years old.

he has a nicotine addiction and he goes through a pack a week. quitting is more stressful than it's worth so he hasn't tried.

he stays in touch with his brothers. ares more so because ares calls him to hide bodies frequently.

he isn't head of the family yet, he works right under his father and he has a lot of the same power and responsibilities.

he hates violence and as a young boy he was even more soft spoken and didn't want to hurt anyone. now he has no choice and that adds to his stress.

his whole life he's been compared to ares because he's so much softer than his more aggressive brother. this caused him to really develop a complex where he's always thinking about how much better ares would be at everything he tries and then he starts to stress that people will realize that he's just faking being tough and masculine.

he's known since he was young that he likes men but he doesn't want to risk anymore more evidence against him.

he doesn't have time for relationships or a personal life. his routine is basically work, stress, eat, sleep.

this only changes when he's with you. suddenly he doesn't have to stop and remember to eat. he doesn't have to hurt anyone or be threatening. there's no fear of being exposed with you.

his routine with you is torture, eat, get taken care of, sleep.

at first it was horrible, of course it would be. he spent every day just praying he survived. but one day you weren't torturing him, instead you just let him sit in the same room as you.

for the first time he didn't have to be scared or worry about survival and he was certain all his stress would come back to him. but he realized there was no point in stressing; you would kill him sooner rather than later so he could just comfortably be himself.

he started to get closer to you then forming some kind of strange domesticity. he even found himself enjoying the pain, the horrible pain you would inflict would empty his mind of everything but you.

and then you would patch and clean his wounds so gently. you would always tell him when it was about to sting like you hadn't been putting out cigarettes on his chest an hour ago.

he fell in love with you in the 2 and a half months he spent as your captive. it was nice to love someone so deeply before he died.

and then you told him he could leave. he was confused, upset, confused why he was upset. he wondered if maybe you had found out that your victim had developed a sick affection for you and you were so disgusted with him.

he never understood his younger brother's feelings and possessiveness towards everything. he didn't understand how his brother could claim to love something so deeply that he feels compelled to break it. but when you told him he could go he suddenly understood everything.

it was like something in his mind finally clicked into place and he knew he couldn't let you throw him away. he knew he didn't have any power over you but if he could find something you wanted he could force you to let him stay.

he eventually becomes a pay pig for you. he knows that you're willing to do extreme things for money but he usually just pays to go on dates or for kisses.

he calls you a lot whenever work becomes overwhelming. if you don't answer the phone he'll light up a cigarette instead.

everyone thinks he has a girlfriend and he's some dominant guy who's suddenly whipped for a pretty little girl. they don't know he's the wife.

he loves mascot characters. he really loves cute or ugly cute things. he has a cute phone charm he got from ares and it's the only cute thing he allows himself to own. he can use it being his brother's gift as a good excuse to keep it.

ares knows his real personality while ajax still thinks he's a cool stoic older brother

he is very stoic and he can come off pretty intimidating. he'll accidentally glare at people sometimes because he's just lost in thought and worrying about something.

he only smiles when he's with you. whether you're out on a date or he's getting sewn up he'll have a soft little smile on his face.

if you ever tried to abandon him he would use every resource at his disposal to find you. even if he has to be the one to lock you up he won't let you leave.

he's surprisingly clingy in public. he doesn't do much pda but he'll hold your hand the whole time. if anyone looks at you he'll squeeze your hand and pull you a little closer to himself.

surprisingly it actually takes him a little bit to come around to the idea of bringing sex into things. even longer to convince him that he'd probably enjoy sex more if there was a pain aspect.

now he gets turned on as soon as you press that piece of duct tape over his mouth. he's a complete degenerate.

he loves being degraded. nothing is more exciting than when he calls you at work stressed out and you mock his whole crime lord attitude.

never worry about being too mean to him. he will beg you to make him cry.

he got the family sex = love belief. however because of his work with prostitutes he finds love to be cheap. he didn't think he would ever fall in love until his obsession with you formed.

he also inherited the family forced fem kink. he particularly likes to wear frilly lingerie under his suits while at work. he always sends you a picture of his underwear in the morning.

he over hears someone talking about how much they love calling their wife, wife. so he asks you to call him wife once and it immediately gets him hard. he's a blushing mess about it. .

quiet in bed. when hes not screaming in pain. he just gasps and whimpers at your touch.

he has a desperate need to praise you. like a praise kink but on the giving side. he wants to kiss every inch of your skin and tell you how grateful he is for you.

he doesn't say i love you a lot but when he does it's during sex. especially after edging him.

any kinks you want to try on him he is down to do at least once.

[sansaorgana]

So I loved the way you wrote Buck with his scars! My heart was breaking! Could you maybe write one where he hates them and the reader comforts them and kisses his scars?

hi, sugar! 🥰 I am trying to write these requests chronologically but I couldn't wait to write this one, especially after seeing today's episode because domestic Buck is something I just NEED 😍 I added a whole plot around it, so you can also expect some of jealous Gale 👀 basically, his wife befriended some man when he was away and now he's jealous and insecure that he's not so handsome anymore lol like it's even possible

my inbox is open for blurb/short fic requests for major cleven 🤗

Buck stepped on the stool to take off the last of the Welcome Home signs as his wife stood below with her hand gently put on his thigh, making sure he wouldn’t fall. She didn’t want to miss any opportunity to touch him ever since he had come back.

Buck smiled to himself. It still felt odd to be back home and to be around his wife’s comforting presence, surrounded by her love and affection.

He furrowed his brows at the ceiling’s colour, though. It was oddly snow white and he remembered that it had been needing a renovation when they had moved in a few weeks before his departure to Europe.

“The ceiling’s been painted,” he pointed out as he handed his wife the paper sign and she took it from him to put it away.

“Yes. Ritchie’s done it,” she answered casually.

Buck froze for a second before stepping down from the stool and taking a better look at his wife. She didn’t look as if she was hiding some secret, though.

“Who is Ritchie?” He tried to remain cool. He had no right to be jealous. He didn’t want to be one of those husbands who didn’t want their wives to have any male friends.

Still, he was jealous.

“Oh, Ritchie, he’s just a… Just a friend, I mean…” (Y/N) chuckled and he could see her eyes sparkling. Buck’s jaw clenched at that reaction. “He’s a doctor, a local doctor, you know.”

“Do I know him?” Buck asked, trying to remember if he had known any Ritchies.

“No, no, honey, he was sent here when you had been… away,” she sighed. “I met him at the party…” (Y/N) got nervous explaining and Buck furrowed his brows at her. “I didn’t want to go, my friends forced me, I swear, Buck. It gave me no pleasure to dance and have fun knowing that you were… at some camp, I…” She shook her head and her eyes filled with tears.

“Shh,” Buck put his arms around her and brought her closer to place a kiss on the top of her head. “I hoped you would go out sometimes and have fun. I never wanted you to sit at home alone and cry all day and night. I hoped you’d know that, baby.”

“I know… Well, Ritchie was there. He wasn’t sent to Europe because we need doctors here, too,” (Y/N) sniffed her tears back and looked up at her husband. “He offered me help around the house. He painted the ceiling and took care of that spare room that might be a nursery one day… He fixed the drain and helped to mow the grass. You know, that sort of stuff,” (Y/N) explained. “I don’t know what I’d do without him, Buck. And he did that all for free!”

“For free, you say?” Buck raised an eyebrow. She looked so sweet and innocent, he didn’t want to accuse her of anything but he didn’t trust other men as much as he trusted his girl.

“Completely!” She assured him and nodded her head. “I wanted to pay him, I really did. But he told me that my husband was serving the country and it was his duty to help. He’s a sweetheart, really, Buck,” she tried to convince her husband. “In fact,” (Y/N) took a step back and smiled, “I think you should meet him. I think you’ll adore him! And you should thank him, too.”

“Thank him?” Buck asked, surprised. Perhaps she was right. He should. After all, that man had helped his wife enormously. But the ugly jealousy was too overwhelming.

“Of course!” (Y/N) gave him a scolding look. “Don’t you think he deserves to be thanked? Let me call him! I’ll invite him for dinner. He’s usually free on Sundays,” she ran to the telephone.

Buck only watched as she excitedly dialled the number she had memorised by heart. After a short while, someone on the other side of the line picked up and she smiled widely.

“Hey-ho, Ritchie, darling!” She started and Buck chewed on the inside of his cheek. He leaned on the wall, trying to look cool about it but he was exploding inside. “I was thinking that perhaps you’d join us for dinner tonight? I’d make that lasagna you like so much!” (Y/N) told her friend.

Buck tried not to look surprised that the mysterious Ritchie had his favourite dish already.

The truth was, Buck didn’t have any favourite dish (Y/N) made. And he hadn’t done much around this house before his departure either. They had gotten married two months before. He had been away for more than a year. That Ritchie guy had spent more time with his wife than he had. And it was killing him inside to realise that.

His wife had been everything that made his will to survive so strong. To see her again, to smell her, to touch her, to hear her laugh. She had saved him hundreds of times without even realising. And of course, as he had said to her, he hadn’t wanted her to spend all her days crying after him. But it still stinged his heart that she had some gentleman friend around. Cooking for him, renovating the house together, God-only-knows what else…

“Oh, no, you won’t be a bother!” (Y/N) shook her head to the receiver. “Buck wants to meet you and thank you for everything,” she turned around to smile at her husband. “Well, in two hours perhaps? Great!”

She put the receiver down and approached Buck to hug him and kiss his cheek.

“I can’t believe you’re here with me again… It feels so surreal,” she admitted.

He only hugged her closer, trying not to say anything. All he could feel was jealousy and he didn’t want to open his mouth and accidentally hurt her with his words.

Doctor Ritchie Nelson was older than Buck had expected – around 40. And much more handsome, too. Buck had naively hoped it would be some senior man living down the street or something like that. But no, he looked like a fucking actor. He had shiny black hair and bright blue eyes. He was a few inches taller and his clothes were very elegant.

Buck shook his hand to greet him when he opened the door.

“Major,” Ritchie saluted and then he gave Buck the most wonderful smile. Buck swallowed thickly.

Fuck me, he thought.

“Just call me Buck, doc,” he only said.

“And you call me Ritchie, son,” Ritchie walked inside as if the house had been his.

Buck closed the door behind him. He didn’t like being called son by that man even if he was older. But he didn’t want to start an argument and make his wife sad. She seemed to be very excited about the two of them finally meeting.

“(Y/N)’s in the kitchen now. She will serve the food in a moment. Follow me,” Buck headed to the dining room, painfully realising how stupid his words must have sounded. Of course Ritchie knew where to go.

But Ritchie didn’t say anything to that and took his place by the table.

“Hello, (Y/N)!” He raised his voice in the kitchen’s direction.

“Hello, sweetheart!” (Y/N) greeted him back and Buck took a seat across the table so he could face the man.

Before he could open his mouth to ask about something, his wife went inside with the plates. She put the food on the table and joined them, sitting right in between. 

“So, your wife told me that you went down over Bremen,” Ritchie started so naturally. He had to be born with this charm and charisma. “That was hell of a mission, I’ve heard on the radio.”

“Oh, Ritchie, let’s not talk about the war, can we?” (Y/N) batted her eyelashes at him. “Please,” she laid her eyes on her husband and Buck nodded at her.

He also didn’t want to talk about the war. Especially with a man who had not been there.

“Of course,” Ritchie cleared his throat.

“I’d rather listen to your stories,” Buck told him. “What did I miss ‘round town?”

He quickly regretted asking that question. (Y/N) and Ritchie were telling him all sorts of stories and gossip about local women, drunkards, policemen, priests, divorces and marriages, new children getting born... He wouldn’t mind that itself but the way they interacted with each other made his heart sink deep in his chest.

(Y/N) was mostly looking at Ritchie and her eyes were sparkling whenever he said something funny. She would often touch his wrist when she was laughing and they had a ton of inside jokes that Buck didn’t even want to ask about.

“Oh, you tell that story. You tell it the best!” She would say often and then she would interrupt Ritchie all the time to add her own details. But Ritchie didn’t seem to mind.

Buck couldn’t handle it anymore. He stood up suddenly and they looked up at him, questioningly.

“Are you alright, darling?” (Y/N) asked him, worryingly.

“Yes, I just… I want water…” Buck said and she nodded her head.

He went to the kitchen and poured himself a glass before leaning on the counter and watching his wife still talking to Ritchie. They looked so natural together, so comfortable around each other.

In fact, she looked more relaxed around Ritchie than around Buck. The truth was that things had been awkward between them. When they were alone, they would sit in silence most of the time. And she didn’t look as relaxed as she did now.

Buck clenched his jaw and joined them by the table again, even though he felt as if he was a third wheel.

“Oh, Buck, baby, I forgot to tell you,” (Y/N) grabbed his arm and then she pointed at Ritchie. “Ritchie used to be a model.”

Fucking wonderful, Buck thought. But he pretended to be surprised as he laid his eyes at the other man.

“Oh, please,” Ritchie rolled his eyes and chuckled.

The worst part of Ritchie was that he was not mean. He wasn’t teasing Buck or trying to show off. He really was a nice man... who just happened to have a good relationship with Buck’s wife.

“I mean it! Back in the 30s. He was on the cover of the magazine!” (Y/N) finished the story. “I mean, look at him,” she laid her eyes on Ritchie. “40 this year and face so smooth,” her voice sounded almost dreamy.

Buck moved uncomfortably in his seat. His face was far from smooth now with a few scars scattered on his cheeks. They were not deep but he could see them every time he looked in the mirror. A painful reminder of what he had been through. He would never have a face like Ritchie fucking Nelson. He had already been uncomfortable with the scars but now he hated them.

He took a better look at his wife. God, she was so pretty. So full of life. She deserved someone like her. Not a man broken by the war like him.

“I actually could sign a contract and go to Hollywood,” Ritchie confessed, a little shyly.

“But he chose to refuse and become a doctor,” (Y/N) shook her head and looked at Buck. “Can you believe that? I’d choose Hollywood,” she joked and Ritchie laughed.

Buck forced a chuckle. He couldn’t focus on her words anymore anyway.

“It’s getting late,” Ritchie took a glance at his watch. “I’m opening my cabinet tomorrow in the early morning. I should be going now.”

“Of course,” (Y/N) nodded and stood up to walk him to the front door. Buck remained in the dining room and waited for her to be back.

It took her quite a long time to say goodbye to her friend. He almost stood up himself to check on them but that was when she finally joined him and sat back by that table.

An awkward silence occurred between them.

“Isn’t he lovely?” (Y/N) started as she played with the food on her plate.

“Yes,” Buck nodded. “Damn, I forgot to thank him.”

“It’s alright. He doesn’t really expect that. You can do that next time, too,” she took his hand in hers and caressed it gently.

He hated to see her more stiff and awkward around him than she had been around Ritchie.

“I’ll wash the dishes,” she sighed and stood up, taking the plates from the table.

Buck stood in front of the mirror in the morning and looked at his freshly shaven face. Last night he had a nightmare again and he didn’t get a lot of sleep. His eyes missed the spark he had had before his departure to Europe. They were tired now and sadder, no matter how much he tried to be the same man as before. There were a few new wrinkles on his forehead, too. And those awful scars on his cheeks. His face was definitely not smooth.

“Knock, knock, baby,” (Y/N) opened the door gently. “What is taking you so long? I thought you were shaving,” she smiled softly at him. “I started to worry.”

“I got distracted, sorry,” he reached out for the towel to wipe the remaining shaving cream off of his face but (Y/N) approached him to do it herself.

“Aw, look at you, my handsome husband,” she gave him a warm and loving smile.

He hated that little voice in his head telling him that she had said that out of pity.

“Not anymore,” Buck chuckled nervously and put an aftershave on.

“What are you talking about?” (Y/N) furrowed her brows as she stared at his reflection in the mirror.

He only shook his head, scared that he would start crying if he said something now.

“Gale?” She asked softly as she delicately put her hand on his shoulder. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, look at my face now,” he turned around to face her as his voice trembled.

“I am looking, baby,” she bit on her lower lip and placed her hands on his cheeks to caress them gently with her thumbs. “Do you mean those scars, love?” She asked, nervously.

Buck only nodded as his eyes filled with tears.

“Can I be honest with you, my darling?” She asked and he nodded again. “Well, I didn’t want to mention them when you came back home. I didn’t know if I could, I didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable or sad… But I wanted to tell you…” she hesitated for a moment and his heart skipped a beat.

He expected her to tell him now that they were indeed ugly or making him less attractive. Of course, she would later tell him she loves him despite them and all that jazz. What else would she say?

“I know that they’re on your face because you’ve been hurt and in pain, so I don’t feel good saying this but… Well, I think they make you look even more handsome,” she admitted and Buck’s eyes widened a little. “Am I a bad wife for thinking that?” She asked, nervously. “I’m sorry if I am. But you look so brave, my darling. And so handsome. They make me feel so proud to be your wife when I see them,” she leaned in to place small kisses up and down one of his cheeks and then the other.

“I thought you liked Ritchie’s soft face…” Buck muttered out.

“Wh-what?” (Y/N) took a step back to look deep into his eyes, her hands still caressing his cheeks. “Oh, you’re jealous?”

“Well, how can I not be?” Buck held her wrists gently and moved them out of his face to place soft kisses upon her knuckles. One at the time. “He spent more time with you than me. You’re so comfortable around him. I’m glad you had a friend when I was gone. But I can’t help not to be jealous,” he confessed. “He’s not as broken as me.”

“Gale,” (Y/N) shook her head. “You’re the only man for me. I’ve been waiting for you here, each day and night. And those silly scars you’re so bothered about? Goddamit, I was praying to all the gods in the world to bring you back to me, even without arms or legs, so what do they even matter? They’re nothing. I just wanted my husband back with me!” She began to tear up.

“I know,” Buck brought her closer to hug her. “I’m not accusing you of anything, I know.”

“Oh, you’d be an idiot if you accused me,” she chuckled through the tears.

“Why?” He asked and rubbed her back.

“Because Ritchie… He…” She tried to find the right words. “Well, he doesn’t like women, if you know what I mean.”

Oh.

What a burden had just left Buck’s heart. He chuckled out of relief.

“Yeah, I should have… I should have known. There was something about him,” he admitted.

“He’ll be flattered that you thought of him as competition. It means you find him attractive,” (Y/N) giggled and Buck rolled his eyes before hugging her even tighter. “I love you, Major Cleven,” she squeezed him tighter too. “All of you, all the scars and all the breaks you claim to have.”

Buck was left speechless for a moment. He just kept holding her and kissed her temple before finally speaking up.

“I love you, too, Mrs. Cleven.”

MASTERLIST || BUCK MASTERLIST

[blueparadis]

╰┈➤ INSCAPE ✦ AYATO KAMISATO.

⟣ ──┈ · · · + synopsis ➢ After a year of marriage when your confrontation strikes the heart of lord kamisato, he dedices to play fair and by your rules. Certainly, if he does what you ask of him, you would not be angry at him would you now?

+

⟣ ──┈ · · · + cw ➣ fem!reader, wife!reader, husband!ayato kamisato, trophy wife treatment, terms of endearment, established relationship, marriage of convenience, angst and comfort, enemies to lovers dynamic, sorta hate sex ( but there is no sex. i mean there is but just a little ),drunk!reader, marking, temperature play ( wax play + ice play ), virginity k!nk, foreplay, aftercare >> implied piv sex; 2,2k word count. | blog navigation + koct’23 masterlist. |

A month has passed since you stepped into the Kamisato estate yet Ayato rarely made time for his wife. Of course, like all other men, he used work as an excuse to avoid you like a plague. How could he not? When you confessed that your father had forced you into this marriage with tears in your eyes and rage in your heart yelling that if you could you would have rather die than be a man like him. It was a bolt from the blue to see someone with whom Ayato had decided to share half of him choose death over him. So, Ayato kept his distance; kept up the mirage of this marriage, and deserted you in your misery. It has been a month since the day you married him and nothing has changed since then.

As usual, after eight, Thoma accompanied his master to the study room. “Tomorrow I have to go somewhere. Thoma, please take care of the household for a day.” His butler listens and nods.

“When will you be back Lord Ayato?” Thoma asked hanging his master’s coat in the rack. “Will your lady accompany you?” Ayato pauses stacking files one upon the other on his hand to ponder and then answers.

“It is just work-related.” Thoma beams at that and leaves his master alone in his room. The part where Ayato stands is just the entrance, where the light is always on. He grabs another candle stand and walks up to his desk in the dark, lighting them up. And, when he turns around his eyes glimmered on you like grapes ripening before the arrival of the season. 

You turn around standing against the window admiring the moon in its glory with a goblet in your hand and a wine bottle kept on your husband’s table. It is empty. You look at your husband, part your lips, and bring the goblet near your soft lips speaking in a calm tone. “You do not seem surprised to see me here.” You take a sip and tilt your head. “Have you been thinking about me—like this: standing here, waiting for you, my love?” Ayato does not break his silence. He just watches like a hawk. He leans against his desk crossing his arms over his chest. 

You slowly walk up to him making sure you do not trip. The moment you move the world takes a quick spin, composing yourself you see your husband inches away from you. Finishing the last bit of wine you keep the glass on the desk. You keep your hands on the desk along his firm stature and lean into his face. “Or were you expecting someone else, my love?” You are clearly drunk and maybe so, because you wanted to confront him since never before have you been this rebellious. 

Ayato has always kept a distance from you, letting you live freely, working the way you want. While  attending parties and get-togethers, you were cautious not to let the curtain of perfect marriage slip and show the world its ugly, rotten side. At times like that, his heart warmed from your vicinity; mind and body at constant battle for you. Of course, what would you know what it is like to love someone, and get nothing in return? That kind of love eats you from the inside.

If you hated him openly he could give you an excuse, perhaps an affair or chronic drinking habit but you are perfect maintaining this marriage. But you suspected him of cheating on you was salt to his wound. It hurt his pride. 

Ayato grabs one of your hands, pushing it away and spinning you to stand behind you. Both of your hands are under his grip. His left hand being free finds its way over your breasts. He does not like them. There is a fair amount of distance between his left hand and your upper body. As he finishes tracing your body and ultimately keeping his gloved hand over your belly button he hoarsely whispered into your ears, “You tell me. For whom are you wearing this flimsy dress? 

He rests his chin over the nook of your shoulders. You release a soft breath. “Or is it because you have been lonely?” You rub your thighs together feeling the warmth of his breath behind your ears. “Did you ask help from Thoma?”

“What? How could you—I’d never— Ayato shuhses you swinging his body a little making you sway, as if calming a crying baby. Then he speaks sternly, “At least I have a name. Who are you accusing me of?” 

“Why are you breathing so hard, love?” He exclaims eye over your belly letting you know how much he can feel your restlessness. 

“Leave me Ayato. Leave my hand.” You murmur. There is still a fight in you despite being hurt. He rubs his nose against your shoulder line making you arch your head a bit. He is trying to remember what triggered you and that you were willing to wash all your pride and shame to come to him. You hear a pop sound and a little later feel the graze of his lips, the hot breaths. He understands now. He understands why, why are you here? Closing his mouth he presses his body against your back.

You turn your head to take a look at his face. Your eyes are burning, eyelids heavy and vision focuses and defocuses often. “Thoma— he will, will be here to serve your dinner.” You drawl, one word toppling over the other. The way you took his butler’s name sounded like you were moaning it. “Please. Please Ayato. Leave me.” You feel his hand that was over your tummy loving away and as you take a sigh of relief you turn your face from him. As you close your eyes to dull the incoming wave of pain, you feel his hands underneath your nightgown, nudging in between your thighs seeking permission.

“What?” Ayato drawls tightening his grip on your wrists at the valley of your waist. “Didn’t you say you hated me on our first night? Then, why are you so wet?” He elongated ‘so’ as he spoke into your ears causing goosebumps to light up your supple skin. Embarrassment and shame bloomed all over your body. Your mind denied him while your body was willing to accept him. Not to mention that you are so wet and just from this? Another lie came into the light. The fact that you told him that you were a virgin to keep him ravaging you away is such a brave and bold move. 

“Aren’t you full of surprises my love?” He pulls out his gloved hand making you whimper and extends it in front of you to show how much you are turned on. Your arousal stuck onto his gloved hands, drips along the base of his palm as he motions his ring and middle finger. “Not only that,” He scooted over to a side shamelessly staring at your breasts, “Your nipples. They are hard.” His lips moved closer to your ears. He whispers, “So hard.” Makes him wanna suck and bruise them.

The wine is doing its job perfectly. Your senses are lithe and loose. There is a tingling feeling all over your skin and wherever his touch graces, the feeling magnifies resonating in between your legs. The grip on your hands that are held at your back is still there, still so strong. You fidget with your hands a little and Ayato shifts his hand, inserting his fingers through the gaps of your of both hands locking them firmly. 

You turn your head, with lust coinciding with desperation in your eyes, and your lips dash onto yours. Ayato is surprised at first but when he notices that your eyes are closed, lips so dedicatedly working against his he returns the favor. You think his instincts are becoming dilute. You slip your tongue trying to dull his senses more so that you can break free from his hold but all you feel is the cold grab of his gloved hand on your breasts over the cloth. Your body curls instantly under his touch making you snatch your mouth away.

“C’mon, it is our one-month anniversary. Let’s celebrate.” He mutters reading into your thoughts and then, pulling his glove by holding it in between his teeth exposing his ivory white skin. When he inclines for a kiss you turn away your head. Your breaths become erratic, heavy, and irregular. He can help you with that but you are being so stubborn. There is a pregnant pause before he bends you over the desk, and towers above you to murmur into your ears. “Fine. Have it your way.”

Ayato stands spreading his legs further against your lower body making you immobile. Still, you manage to turn and face him. You notice him holding a candle in one hand. You could sense what was going on in his mind but before your body could follow the directions of your mind he grabbed your hands, locked them by slipping his fingers into yours and pinning them over your head. He lets a drop of wax fall onto your body. It is good that your robe is still on you. But it does not hurt much, there is a pleasure rapidly following the stinging pain making you greedy for another shot.

“That is no good. You are enjoying it.” He growls and pulls your robe down letting a train of wax fall on your skin. You try to scream, thinking about the amount of pain you will get but Ayato’s lips block you from doing so. Tears rolling from the corner of your eyes yet you do not want to let go of his lips. He is kissing so fervently, hungrily. You did not think your husband was capable of such passion.

Ayato breaks the kiss. The resistive forces in your body have died now. He does not even have to tell you to stay still. He bends the candle to let the wax fall on your skin again holding your garment above your boobs. “Now, my dear wife. Who are you trying to provoke by not wearing anything under? Is it me?” He drawls dramatically letting the wax fall in a trail over your boob writing the letters of his initials. You do not scream, neither protest but rather moan in pleasure. The pleasure is addictive, like the cool Breeze after a storm.

Keeping the candle in its place he pulls you up embracing. A certain while you feel the hot wax on your back again and you bite onto the column of his neck. The more he pours, the stronger your sucks and bites become. Once the candle reduces to half he stops and watching your body so bruised and red makes him mourn but the look on your face turns the table.

“Ayato. Ayato, please. I need you.” you start. Intoxication is still in effect numbing your senses. “I need you inside me, please, I miss you.” you moan and whimper in his arms. Ayato hears a knock. He knows it is Thoma. Must have heard your voices. Slipping his coat over you he takes you into his arms. 

“Lord Ayato—” he gasps, opening the door. Ayato adjusts you in his arms and you curl into his chest. 

He instructs, “Thoma. We are going to have dinner later.” and walks towards the washroom. Thoma asks if he should prepare a bath but Ayato just tells him he needs some ice.

Ayato places you beside the sink, on the slab. He starts undressing himself thinking how he will be inside you for the first time, fuck you witless. The way you are drunk so much, he thinks, you will barely resist or feel the pain, only the pleasure. 

Thoma kept a box of ice outside the door already, Ayato picks them up and he walks towards you naked, with ice in his hands, and rubs them over your back.  With such cold hands, he pulls apart your legs to make himself comfortable in between your legs. His cock is hard and awake. You touch his member, making him moan against your ear. He keeps rubbing your back with those ice cubes as you work up his cock to take him in.

“Eager. Aren’t we?” Ayato says against your ears as you place your hands around him. “You have no idea what you are asking for my wife.”

You buck your hips and push him to feel him inside you. The tip of his cock grazes your entrance. You murmur, “Oh, try me. I'm actually hard to impress.” and feel him push his cock all at once, feeling his base against your inner thighs. You scratch onto his back feeling the momentarily alive pain followed by a great wave of pleasure.

“I’m warning you. I’m going to hurt you if I fuck you.” Ayato rasps.

And you mutter over his lips in erratic breaths. “Oh— you mean — sharing the pain, — my dear husband?” 

“Ummm—hmmm” Ayato coos, kissing your lips. The night is going to be long and memorable.

[limethefirst]

Void Runners Pt. 3

pairings: Deadpool x Wolverine x teen!reader

warnings: heavy Deadpool and Wolverine spoilers, crude humor, violence, swearing

summary: Since being saved by Wade after your encounter with Cassandra, Logan makes you lead the way in the wasteland in hopes you know where they are.

Part 1 / Part 2

a/n: Per-chance I may have disappeared but that doesn't mean I won't finish this story, sorry for being gone so long, please forgive me with this 2000 word update! Enjoy the long awaited part 3

Currently the three of you were all walking through a grassy field, Wade was annoying Logan like usual as you walked in front of them—to be completely honest you were exactly sure where you were going but you knew you’d get there.

It was like the blind leading the blind but they didn't know that.

As they continued to discuss whatever...dumb things Wade could produce, a loud bark rang in the distance, seemingly catching everyone's attention.

You looked forward, as a strange little dog began to run into view. It was ugly, in an oddly cute way, it's tongue jumping up and down with each step it took.

Logan had a disgusted look on his face, while Wade seemed star struck. Wade began to take his mask off, his mouth agape; as the dog got closer the man fell to his knees, and opened his arms, letting the creature jump up on him and lick his face.

"Look at you!" Wade exclaimed, clearly excited, "She's coming with us,"

"No she's not," The man in yellow protested, obviously not wanting the extra company.

While they bickered you took the opportunity to get a closer look at the dog, it made a strange noise as you did. Although you could tell it enjoyed the affection it was being given.

"Sorry, sorry about that girl!" A voice rang, the group turning to look, saw a, what seemed to be more attractive Deadpool with long hair.

You looked between both men, confused at seeing two Deadpool's at once, more so one that said 'sorry' upon first interaction, "Who are you?" Wade asked, noticeably confused.

The other man stopped for a second to catch his breath, "Oh, I'm Deadpool, and I guess you're Deadpool too," He gestured to the Wade you've been traveling with, "But in here, everybody calls me 'Nicepool'."

You snickered at the name, the thought of a nice Deadpool now in your mind.

"Oh my goodness, wait till you see Ladypool. She is gorgeous," Nicepool began to ramble on, "She just had a baby too and.. woosh. Can't even tell." He told you guys, making a gesture with his hands to show you guys what he meant.

Logan gave him a confused face, while Wade added on, "I don't think you're supposed to say that."

"That's okay," Nicepool told you three, as his right hand went over his heart, "I identify as a feminist."

No longer being able to hold in your laughter from this entire interaction you let out an audible snort/chuckle.

All three men looked at you, Wade had a subtle hint of amusement within his eyes, Logan was just confused and Nicepool looked disappointed you'd laugh at the fact he's a feminist.

"Right," Wade said, deadpanning. Before he suddenly perked up, his attention caught by something, "Are those gold-plated 50 caliber Desert Eagle pistoleros?"

" 'Course, to match my ear huggie," Nicepool responded, a smile on his face while he showed off his gold.

"Can I have 'em?" Wade asked, sounding like a child wanting to open their birthday gifts early.

Nicepool laughed at him, "Over my dead body!" He responded still smiling.

You grimaced at the man, "You're gonna regret saying that to him.." you said, knowing Wade would take it seriously.

"You're fun!" He said looking between you and Wade, "And I guess you've already met Mary Puppins, AKA Dogpool. Careful where you touch her, she's 90% g-spot and she'll let you know it."

You looked back at the dog as Wade adjusted her in his arms.

"You let this little flirt out of your sight for one second and she starts shopping for a new papa!" Nicepool exclaimed, still smiling throughout the whole interaction.

You looked back towards Wade only to see Mary Puppins licking his lips and mouth, slightly disturbed by the strange sight.

"If you can't be a responsible pet owner then maybe you don't deserve this little unicorn!" Wade spoke as if a dog wasn't literally eating at his face.

Nicepool only smiled at him and put his hands together, "Guilty on all charges your honor. Shan't happen again" Nicepool bowed to Wade.

"Why are you so nice?" Wade asked, confused why this alternative version of him was so strange.

Nicepool once again smiled at him, "It cost nothing to be kind."

"Shutting the fuck up is also free," Logan added on, seemingly annoyed at the fact he was surrounded by technically three Deadpool's.

"Caliente!"

"This is Logan, he's usually shirtless but he let himself go since the divorce." Wade introduced as he tilted his head towards Logan, "And this little thing right here is Y/N, they're our little time jumper!" You wave a small wave, not wanting to be rude. Nicepool gave you a smile.

"Where's your mask?" Wade asked, a look of suspicion and maybe even a hint of envy on his face.

Nicepool, although still smiling, gave a confused look before regaining his happy demeanor, "Come on guys," He pointed at his face, a knowing look on his face.

Logan just looked disgusted and Wade was annoyed, "Ugh this guy, we're looking for a group of survivors."

"Oh they're out there, but merc to merc, you better hope you don't run into the Deadpool corp, yeah they're crazy!" Nicepool began to explain who they were and what they do, you've been in the void long enough to know who they were, fortunate enough to have never come face to face with them.

You didn't listen much after that conversation, only being asked by Nicepool if these hooligans were bothering you and if you'd like to go with him instead but you declined, more interested in leaving this place then having to be stuck with another Deadpool for the rest of eternity.

As you three were led through what seemed to be a corn maze you stumbled upon a car, that Wade did not seem to like one bit.

"No, no, no. Absolutely not, nu-uh what the- No, no" Wade continued to protest.

"Just get in the car" Logan told him, his tone already showing how he was getting annoyed.

"What's wrong with the car?" You asked Wade confused on why he didn't want to get in.

Wade looked offended when you asked him that, "This isn't a car, this is a Honda fuckin' Odyssey, throttle response sucks a cock, dated infotainment system. When Honda saw that the untreated chlamydia was makin' a comeback, they invented the Honda Odyssey to compete."

You looked at Wade, shocked at how much hate he held for the Honda Odyssey and at the relation he was able to make between chlamydia and a car.

"Get in the fucking car."

Nicepool smiled, his creepy little happy smile, "She'll get you there safe and sound, old Besty always does." Both you and Logan walked up to the car, getting ready to leave as soon as possible, "You're gonna have to give me my dog back though."

"I know. Listen, yes child.." Wade spoke to Mary Puppin's, as he pet her, showing his strange attachment to the furball, "If you ever wanna give her up, or if she needs a new home or if something should.. happen to you, I'd love to be her papa."

Nicepool laughed at Wade's subtle threat, "What would ever happen to me?"

Casually Wade replied, "Lots of stuff," This time the threat didn't seem to go over Nicepool's head.

He gave both you and Logan a nervous look, you could only reply with a sigh before you nudged Logan with your elbow, nodding towards Wade and the dog.

He sighed before standing up and walking towards the two, "Jesus" He muttered under his breathe.

Wade catching on quickly turned away, trying to run into the corn maze, being met with clear failure. "No! We're running away!"

You shook your head in disapproval still leaning on the car, "Give me that." Logan said grabbing the small dog from Wade's arms.

"We were so close girl" He tells Mary Puppins before she is given back to her rightful owner.

Logan handed Mary Puppins back to Nicepool, which then let him get into the car, while Wade slowly entered as well, clearly upset he wasn't able to take her with him. You got in as well, in the backseat of the car, giving a small wave to the little dog and her weird happy owner.

Logan started the car and began the long drive, giving you a little time to rest. Shockingly Wade didn't really speak much, until Logan got to the forest.

"Okay, I'm just gonna ask," Wade started off with, you slowly opened your eyes, still leaning against the window, your arms crossed as you listened in, "What's with the suit? First thing I did when I flamed out I took mine off."

"Drop it," Logan warned him.

"It's not that ugly,"

"Stop talking about my suit."

"Did you make it yourself? Been there."

"Quit. Now."

"The X-Men make you wear it? Those sons of fuckin' bitches. They are not your friends I'll tell you that!" Wade was not getting the hint at all, Logan looked as if he was about to burst, "Friends don't let friends leave the house looking like they fight crime for the Los Angeles Rams."

Logan replied snappily, not even looking away from the road for a second, "Shut the fuck up about this"

"Woah woah woah, watch your frown lines, angel baby, I'm just trying to bond a little bit."

"Yeah, well then talk about somethin' else," Logan let out an annoyed scoff.

"Fine!" Wade hesitantly said, you let out a quick sigh, thankful that Wade realized he should keep his mouth shut. Slowly you began to close your eyes again, hoping to get a little nap in during this ride.

Slowly but surely you drifted off to sleep, the exhaustion of today finally catching up with you. Although the peace wouldn't last long.

You had at least 15 seconds of nap time before the cars sudden stop made you hit your head against the back of Wade's seat.

"Ow!" You exclaimed, grabbing your forehead in your hands, Logan glanced at you, a glint of what you could only assume was worry evident on his face, before he turned back towards Wade.

"What do you mean if?" Logan's voice was raised, mad at whatever Wade had told him during your 15 second nap.

"I mean-"

"You lied to me, you don't have a fucking clue of they can help me fix things do you?"

"No I mean-" Before Wade could even finish his sentence Logan had let out his metal claws, digging them into Wade's leg.

You jumped back, a look of fear on your face, not worried that'd they attack you but that you'd get caught in the cross fire.

"Kid, get out of the car, now" Logan said, not even looking at you, his eyes stilled fixed on Wade. You knew you didn't have to listen twice, you quickly unlocked the door and jogged over to the thickest tree, hopping to use it as protection as the two men fought.

You thought the worst of it was over, you'd heard them yell a bit and assumed it was over once it went quiet but before you could walk back up to the car you saw Logan get thrown out of the car, that right there was your sign this would be an even longer day then it already was.

You watched for a bit before ultimately sitting down against a nearby tree and deciding you might as well take that nap now. You covered your ears and slowly drifted off to sleep.

You began to stir awake when you felt some arms around you and you heard the car turning on, but you assumed it was just one of them men thinking it was best to keep going on with the journey, so you put aside that thought and went back to sleep.

Until you suddenly were jolted awake by the sudden voice and quick movement of Wade, yelling what you assume was Thor.

[hyuckswoman]

« i’m so stupid to have believed you when you said you would only take a minute  to get ready » your friend hanbin says

the both of you were currently heading towards the gymnasium, actually going to see the basketball match instead of changing your plans last minute like the both of you usually do 

�� what can I say? a lady must take her time upon preparing herself » you answer slightly shoving your friend as yes, technically he did have every right to complain but he had been doing so for the past half an hour. 

« lady my ass, you still look just as ugly » your friend says as you gasp and before you could even respond, somebody had beat you to it 

« y/n is not ugly how dare you say that » your friend jaemin (whom you had not seen) accompanied by his 5 friends greeted you 

« yea listen to jaemin i am not ugly » you retorted as hanbin just rolled his eyes and sighed

« what brings you here? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you at a game before » jisung asks, curious and lowkey surprised to see you in an athletic vicinity (the man did not think of you as highly athletic you presume)

« some guy tried to ask her out and since she wasn’t down he also asked me to go to the game with her so we’re here now » hanbin replies all too nonchalantly, you’re low key appalled at the twisted version of the events your friend is telling. 

« that is quite literally not what happened, the guy you see over there just told me i should come to the game and invite hanbin too » you reply clarifying 

« sooo, it’s exactly as hanbin described it » mark said. 

you couldn’t have your man think that he has any competition when it comes to you (not that he cares anyway, this is very much a one sided relationship and you know it). but still, upon seeing the five other men nod you truly start to wonder if all of them are just collectively stupid because they’re men or if you’re the one that’s being dense 

« OH! you’ll get to meet chenle, he’s been wanting to meet you for awhile- speak of the devil there he is! » your friend jaemin starts then waves at a man that is currently running towards all of you 

« you guys actually came -» chenle starts before being cut off by hyuck « yea we did » . while all of the guys sigh and shake their heads you’re snickering as that is 100% a joke you could’ve made yourself, and meeting eyes with your friend hanbin that’s giving you a look that screams ‘this is a joke you could’ve made’ gives you all the reassurance you would need. 

the loud noises erupting from the stadium managed to drown out the voices of the friend group in front of you. it isn’t until you hear your name being said that you realize not only where you are but who you’re with 

« it’s good to meet you, i was feeling left out as i was the only one who hadn’t met you yet. I wish i could speak more but i need to go back to stretch a bit before the match, talk to you after? » chenle asks, to which you only nod before he scurries back to his team

that’s right, chenle IS a basketball player of course his friends would be there.. 

« cmon guys, let’s go sit » jeno hurries all of you as he wants to get good seats before ‘the fangirls arrive’ (you secretly thank god the man doesn’t know about your little mark obsession seeing how he feels towards the basketball groupies)

« dude what if during the game a basketball comes flying to your head and your man catches it going like ‘you alright’ tryna rizz you up just like the meme you posted on twitter yesterday » hanbin whispers, still all too loudly for your liking tho 

« i beg of you to shut the fuck up the man is quite literally three people away from you » you whisper back slightly pinching his arm as he winces in pain.

 you can’t have mark know about your delusions. ever. 

and even though the seating system (hanbin, you, jaemin, jisung, mark, haechan and jeno) would make it difficult for mark to hear the whispers you share about him you don’t want to take any chances. you are practically surrounded by his friends after all. 

and two hours later the match was done, chenle’s team winning of course and you were heading out when the guys stopped both you and hanbin 

« we’re going to celebrate, not sure how yet but you guys wanna join? » jeno asks and hanbin agrees without even caring if you wanted to join them or not. when confronting him the only thing he replied was «what? we’ll probably get free food or drinks outta this, you should thank me ». the audacity of a bitch. 

25. the game

previous chapter masterlist next chapter

notes: i'm back with another (written chapter) hope you guys don't mind the written bits cause there are more coming lol (also sorry to user @jising-jisang-jisung i really tried to make mark say it but i couldn't so.. sorry)

also to the anon that requested the jaehyun or huyk fic i am working on that i'm sorry to be so slow i'll try to publish it asap!

as always, requests/reaction/anything are open and appreciated!! hope you guys have/had a lovely day!

taglist (open): @imsiriuslyreal @iscocohere @simpforarmihn @replayenthusiast @lovm4rk @youreintheclubb @polarisjisung @sour-chaos @jising-jisang-jisung @aerivrs @multifandomania @tiddygang2020 @roseangelxfuma @skepvids @morkiee @yangasm @artstaeh @pussyslayerhd @bacons-thighs @bugcattie @leefullsun @jkslvsnella @alethea-moon @marvelahsobx @haechansbbg

[mrandmrssnowbaird]

very submissive kept-boy coryo, but you're a soft dom and you just wanna take care of him forever when you realize how badly he needs you. dacryphilia, begging, coryo on his knees and loving it.

You blink rapidly in shock, your heart pounding in your chest at the sight of Coriolanus Snow down on his knees. For you. You're usually so good with your words but you're speechless. Your face flushes. Coriolanus moves forward on his knees a bit, eyes still filled with tears. The sight is odd for so many reasons. One being of course the situation itself, the second being - usually, you find men crying to be kind of funny. The way their face crumpled instantly, like they'd been holding back far too long and the sudden release of emotion was so great that they can't help but look so ugly you could hardly stand it. But not Coriolanus. No, he's quite pretty with tears in his eyes, bottom lip trembling. You swallow hard. "What can I do? Please, tell me." He begs, almost whining.

Your heart skips a beat, and you sigh. "Come here." Coriolanus does, not bothering to get up off of his knees and instead shuffling forward towards you til he's right in front of you, hands still clasped. When he reaches you, you place your hands on his shoulders. The second you touch him, his tears start to fall. He starts to lower his head to hide, but you won't let him, placing your fingers under his chin for a moment. Your heart is pounding so hard in your chest you think he might be able to hear it, and the sight of his tears falling sends a rush of heat through you. "Please...please just tell me what I can do." He continues, definitely whining now. It's sweet, you think. Maybe you're making a mistake trying to end things. "Well...this is a good start." You say, a little breathless. "I like you on your knees.” Coriolanus blinks, and looks around a bit, up at you, down at himself, as if he just notices now that he's on his knees. He swallows hard, a few more tears falling. He nods. He'll stay on his knees, if that's what you want. And it is what you want. You still want him - you just want him to crawl on his knees for you, give himself more fully. Til he has nothing left. That's what's missing. Coriolanus was still holding back, sweet as he was to you these past weeks. You're beyond aroused. The tension had been building between you these last weeks, but nothing had been done about it. Coriolanus has been a near perfect gentleman, and you’re starting to understand why. You don’t necessarily know what you’re doing, but with Coriolanus on his knees in front of you, it seems nearly instinctual. You touch his cheek. Tears are still coming, though slowly. Your thumb brushes along his wet skin, not wiping the tears away but rather caressing them into his pale skin. “It’s okay,” You tell him softly. “Y-you’re not gunna leave me?” Coriolanus asks, looking up into your face, his own full of hope. “No…I’m not gonna leave you.” You tell him, and he releases almost a dramatically relieved sigh, tilting his cheek into your hand, eyes closed. “Not when you asked so nicely.” You add, watching his face for a reaction. Coriolanus sighs again, enjoying the compliments. 

You lean in to whisper in his ear, “You like this, don’t you? Being on your knees for me?”

Your breath in his ear causes him to let out a whimper and you fully understand, as he nods his head, why Coriolanus was so hesitant to fully open up. It was bad enough the Snows were broke - even worse if the entire student body found out he gets off on being made to get down on his knees. 

The house of Snow had fallen so hard and so far that now, he was down on his knees in front of you, crying and begging you not to leave with an erection tenting his black slacks. Just a little bit pathetic. 

And you love it. 

This somehow only makes Coriolanus more appealing, endearing. 

“Are you hard for me, Coryo….? You love begging on you knees that much?” You ask him, voice a mixture of amazed, soothing, and teasing as you continue to whisper in his ear. He groans at the feel of your breath in his ear again, at the little bit of degradation. His hands unclasp and he grasps your waist, holding onto you as he nods. 

This isn’t good enough for you.

“Use your words, Coriolanus. Tell me.” 

He releases a frustrated whine, turning red. This isn’t easy for him, but that’s part of what’s making it so arousing. 

“Say it.” You don’t even have to threaten him. He says it. 

“Okay, okay, I-…I love…I love being on my knees for you.”

Both of you are breathing a little faster at the discovery of a new aspect of a relationship you thought was very nearly over. 

How wrong you were. 

“What do you want, Coryo?” You ask, because you genuinely want to know. Does he even fully know himself? 

You pull away to look at his face. He does look confused, uncertain. You know he’s a virgin - he knows you’re not. You’re not incredibly experienced, but more so than he is. 

But he manages to shock you again. 

“I wanna…I wanna make you cum. Will you show me how? Please?” 

[huramuna]

beware the sapphire peak - chapter 1.

aemond targaryen x wife reader x alys rivers a period piece, set in 1902.

prev | next

wordcount: 2.6k

you're a young, american lady who is an aspiring author. you are wooed by a mysterious and charming savant from england. swept off your feet, you're whisked away to his family's ancient estate, Dragonstone Hall. but with all stories, secrets are hiding around every corner, and your suitor is no different. a crimson peak inspired mini series. (this will likely be about 3 parts)

@huramuna-fics - follow & turn on notifications for just my fic postings!

content: smut, angst, gaslighting, unhealthy relationships, manipulation, alys in her girlboss gatekeep gaslight era, no use of y/n, afab reader, pre-established alysmond, this isn't going where you think it is (it might be), infidelity-ish, polyamory

to death we dance - salem's heir • the flower duet - sabine devieilhe & marianne crebassa

“You were nearly late, miss,” one of the butlers murmured in your ear. “The music’s just started.” 

“There is a quote about being fashionably late, isn’t there?” you mused, taking his gloved hand as he helped you up the steps. 

It was a banquet for your father’s business, a celebration of having struck gold (oil) and turning a huge profit. Or, in your words, an excuse for the high and mighty to get plastered and dance the night away. Your fist clenched upon the train of your dress– a lovely evening gown in eggshell white, with hand embroidered lilacs and lavender petals on it, spindling up your bodice like a trellis. Your usually somewhat unruly hair was tamed into a braided and pinned up-do, with an expensive broach poked into the bun of hair in the shape of a falling wisteria branch. 

Your father was the first to greet you, peeling away from the gaggle of portly oil barons. He kissed your cheek. “You look lovely tonight, my dear. A vision in purple, I must say.”

You smiled back at him. “Yes, well, you all but wringed my arm to get me to attend– and you shall hold up your end of the bargain… right?” you hummed softly, batting your eyelashes. 

He let out a small sigh, nodding. “I will send your manuscript to the publisher– the editor in chief is here tonight, if you’d care to mingle. Amongst… many other eligible bachelors, I might add.” 

Your father had spent the better part of the last three years gently trying to pair you up with a suitor for marriage. He was a patient man, as he had droned on about so many times before, but his patience was waning. You were twenty-one years old, and apparently, that was a ghastly sight– to be twenty-one and unmarried with no promising prospects. 

Of course, you couldn’t care less. You were more focused on finishing your manuscript in that time– you had a knack for writing and reveled in works of fiction that tended to lean to the darker sides of things. It had finally reached a point you were somewhat happy with, and had convinced your father to chat up his well connected colleagues so you may be able to send the first draft to a publisher.

The price for that, however, was to entertain suitors. At a gala. Dressed and primped like a Thanksgiving turkey. It was all so dreary to you– the ladies stared at you and whispered, citing you as the dreary one. 

Breaking away from your father with a tiny smile, you began to mingle– as well as you could, anyhow. You were awkward and a bit sheltered and it showed. However, once you said who your father was, dollar signs would flash in the eyes of the men you were speaking with, and they would push forward in the conversation. You weren’t ugly by any means and could become a good wife to some young entrepreneur– but you didn’t want that.

You were about fed up with it all three hours later, your nails clinking against the glass of champagne you were nursing for the better part of thirty minutes. Your look of slight annoyance managed to stave off any other wanton suitors– until another man approached you. You had exchanged some glances with him during the night, but you didn’t recognize him. He was tall, exceedingly taller than any of the other men there. His blonde hair, so pale it was almost white in hue, was cinched at the nape of his neck in a clean ponytail, falling between his shoulder blades. He was in a custom-fitted three piece black and green suit– you could tell from how perfectly it was hugging him, in all the right places.

A familiar heat came to your cheeks as you watched him saunter over to you with an intent in his pale blue eyes– eye? One of them, you noted as he came closer, was slightly off-color from the other and moved a bit slower. Likely fake, you thought. The light casted over the planes of his face, chiseled as it was, illuminating the slightly raised, puckered skin near the fake eye in a distinctual scar. He looked just like the perfect inspiration for a protagonist in one of your novels– or mayhaps an antagonist. He seemed to skim the line between the two in appearance alone.

Curious.

“My lady,” he greeted as he finally broke the air of silence between you, his arms placed behind him in a very calculated manner. “Are you enjoying yourself this evening?” he asked then, a brow perked. His accent wasn’t American– that you knew for certain– likely something European. 

“As much as I can, sir,” you responded coolly, despite being caught slightly off guard by his sudden and overwhelming presence– a dark cloud in a perfectly tailored suit. “I hope that the…” you cleared your throat, trying to sound a little more confident than you likely were. “The… event is to your liking.” you mustered a smile, diverting your gaze to your champagne, hoping there may be the secrets to being a good conversationalist somewhere within the bubbles.

He chuckled, the sound low and husky. It caused a shiver to go up your spine. “The event is well and fine, my lady. Are you… the proprietor of the gala tonight? I wouldn’t expect a beautiful thing such as yourself to plan something like this.”

You glanced up at him beneath fettered lashes. He was complimenting you and insulting the party at the same time. “No– I am not. I’d never choose such… dreary musicians for an event like this. They’re playing for a wake rather than a party– that would be my father’s doing.” you slipped it into the conversation, that this was your father’s party, trying to gauge if this handsome stranger was after what all of the others were.

Surprisingly, his expression, smooth and cool with the barest hint of a smile perking at his naturally upturned lips, didn’t change. “Dreary,” he repeated, “Melancholic, gloomy, monotonous, vapid– all good words to describe the state of affairs.”

“You have quite the expansive vocabulary, Mister…” your voice trailed off, an inadvertent way to ask for his name.

“Targaryen– Aemond Targaryen. And you?” he reached his hand out to shake yours – how incredibly formal– as you returned your own name with a wide-eyed stare.

“Targaryen. As in… the ancient bloodline? Descended from dragons, close to royalty, Dragonstone estate Targaryen?” you asked, mouth slightly agape. From what you knew of them, they were as close to the height of English royalty, real royalty, as there was in the current year, 1902. Their wealth alone, minus all of the titles, made your father’s look like a pissant trust fund. 

“The very same. You’re familiar with my family?”

“Ehm– familiar, more so I’ve heard of you all. Your family’s name comes up quite often in my father’s social circles. And I am quite nosy.”

“And what do you think?”

“About… your family? Mr. Targaryen–” 

“Call me Aemond.”

“Aemond– I don’t really know much besides the height of your prestige– and your family’s estate, Dragonstone. My father brought me back some photographs of it from his trips over the pond. It’s quite beautiful.”

“Your father brought you pictures of our home?”

“N-not just yours! I collect photographs of old estates, mostly ones from Europe. I like to use them for inspiration for my… stories. I’m a writer– a novice, mostly.”

“A writer? Have you published anything I might know?” 

“Oh, God no–” you laughed, covering your face slightly with your hand. “I’ve not yet been published. I actually sent my manuscript to… or will be sending one to a publisher soon. Hopefully.”

“What do you like to write?” he asked then, leaning a bit closer to you as if he was actually enjoying conversing with you. “Romance? Children’s fables?” he teased softly, his one eye gleaming. He was quite handsome, you thought.

“I like horror– mysteries, gothic fiction. I’m quite enamored with the… macabre and weird,” you admit. “I hope that doesn’t frighten you.” 

Aemond grinned, his teeth shining, canines pronounced against his thin lips. “Oh, yes, it does frighten me. But, all good horror stories should frighten their readers, yes? I expect you’re a fan of Vampyre? Perhaps Dracula?” 

“Both are good. My favorite, however, is Frankenstein. Mary Shelley is a genius. The Castle of Otranto is also wonderful and the pioneer of the genre. I remember trying to read it when I was younger and being scared of the dark hallways at night. Later on in life, those dark hallways enthused me enough to write about them– hence my… fascination with old houses.”

“Old homes certainly do have their fair share of secrets, don’t they?” he paused, straightening his lapel slightly before leaning back in towards you. “And do you believe what they say? That Mary’s husband wrote it and published it under her name?”

Your brows knit together in slight irritation. “Of course not. Why would he need to do such a thing? I hope you don’t mind me saying, but men already have enough advantages as is– publishing under a woman’s name instead might be considered a disadvantage.”

“Will you be publishing under your own name?” 

You blinked, taking a sip from your champagne. It was something you considered and went back and forth upon. “I haven’t decided. I have a pseudonym ready just in case.”

“Do tell– so I know what name to look for on the shelves within a year.” 

God, was he ever charming– and without even trying, really. He was well-spoken with a voice that was soft and almost whispery. It made butterflies bubble in the pit of your stomach– now that was a feeling you weren’t familiar with. “Dorian Gray.”

“Cheeky woman.” he mused. “Fancy a dance, Miss Gray?”

“... I suppose I could be swayed.”

–

Your dance together, to say the least, was a success– it started month’s worth of courting after. Aemond took you on the most splendid nights out, wining and dining you like you were a gorgeous, interesting debutante. It was exhilarating to say the least and made you feel… truly wanted– especially since his family was exceedingly wealthy, your father’s wealth couldn’t have attracted him. 

He took you to the theater, out to wondrous restaurants, and bought you various gifts like jewelry, writing supplies and outfits to wear when you went out.

It all felt very much like a dream to you– something beyond your usual, weary routine that had hardly ever changed since your mother died when you were eight years old. You’d recused into yourself then, the dark hallways that scared you so fiercely just before her death now seemed welcoming. You thrived in the dark, like a moth. 

But now, you felt something more akin to a butterfly, bathing in the sun’s light. 

It wasn’t a great surprise when Aemond asked your father for his blessing to marry you. Your father, who had harped you for years to get married, was suddenly apprehensive. 

He pulled you aside, arm around you. “Do you like this boy, dear?”

“Y-yes, father– very much so.”

“I’ll be honest, sweetheart. I’m not exactly keen on letting my only daughter go off with… some man–” 

“He isn’t just some man, father! He’s a Targ–” 

“Don’t interrupt,” he chastised firmly. “I’ve had my people look into his family further– it’s a whole mess, issues with succession, backstabbing, incest, the whole nine yards,” he took a measured breath. “But I’ve heard nothing but good things about… Aemond. But… you’d be so far away. You’d be off living in the annals of England, a whole boat’s ride away.”

“This is what you wanted, father! For me to marry, for me to be happy! This is the happiest I’ve been in… so long. You must see that?”

The creases in your father’s forehead relaxed as he regarded you for a long moment, before turning to Aemond, who was waiting patiently off to the side. He let go of your shoulder and walked to your beau, staring at him sternly. “Will you treat her right? Give her everything she deserves and more?”

Aemond perked up slightly, rubbing the side of his forefinger with his thumb in a seemingly nervous gesture. “Of course, sir. I’ll give her everything I have and more. She will be regarded as a Lady– the Lady Targaryen of Dragonstone Hall, and she wouldn’t be treated with any less respect than a Lady deserves.”

Your father’s gaze narrowed, taking it all into careful thought. “... very well. You have my blessing, son. But, one whiff of even a tear from her eye on your account, and your nads are forfeit. I may not be as well-off as your family, but I’ve got a lot of friends in a lot of places.”

– 

The marriage was a quick affair, as your father, and now Aemond, knew you had no patience for pomp and frills. Aemond gave you a beautiful ring with an absolutely gigantic sapphire inlaid in the center, citing it as a family heirloom from centuries past. Your father saw you off onto the boat, bawling his eyes out. You’d never seen your father cry– not once. 

As husband and wife, you both agreed to wait to celebrate your wedding night until you arrived in England at his family’s estate to your marital bed.

The trip overall was a little under a week’s time upon a luxurious liner, where you both enjoyed champagne and each other’s company. You craved your husband, and he craved you in the same, but you each wished to keep your agreement intact. But it was increasingly hard, as you held one another close each night and his need for you was clearly pressed to your lower back.

Dragonstone Hall was a few hours' carriage ride north of the port and was nestled upon a high-ridged cliff. It was as gorgeous as the pictures had depicted, even moreso. It was ancient, imposing against the skyline and mingling to the clouds, where sea birds and ravens alike swirled above the towering watch towers that were supported by stone walls with vines grasping to them like lifelines. 

It was gorgeous, gothic and most definitely haunted– a perfect place for a woman of horror such as yourself. 

Aemond helped you out of the carriage, a hand placed upon your waist as he guided you beyond the gates. Your eyes were wide with wonder, taking in the scenery like a breath of fresh air. Tears threatened to spill over suddenly, as you were just overwhelmed with everything going on. You were married to someone you loved, who loved you– and were the Lady Targaryen of Dragonstone Hall. 

“Something wrong, my love?” Aemond whispered into your ear, his lips tickling your lobe.

“N-no– I’m just… very happy.”

He wiped the tears away with the pad of his thumb, clearing your vision. You glanced up at one of the windows on the third story of the castle. Someone was staring back at you.

A lady. Her hair was red, her skin almost translucent. 

You must’ve been imagining it, surely. Looking to another window, another visage appeared.

Another– this time with dirty blonde hair, her blue eyes ghastly and bloodshot. She was practically see through. 

You pressed closer to Aemond, blinking profusely– it must’ve been the exhaustion from the nights on the boat catching up to you. Once you rubbed your eyes, you looked back; the figures were gone. 

As you approached the main door of the estate, another face caught your eye. 

Another woman– with dark hair and sullen, emerald eyes. They pierced through you like two heavy jewels, making goosebumps prickle atop your arms. She wasn’t ghastly or undeathly like the other two, and when you rubbed your eyes, she was still there.

She was still there, very much a living person in the flesh, with flowing blood and a beating heart. And she was beautiful.

[enden-k]

in response to this

kaveh if he breaks smth by accident is just this chibi like, all of it:

(just with some additional tears in his eyes if it rlly was smth bad AKJBKJ baby)

also agree. kaveh is an architect, an artist, someone who creates so seeing himself being like an evil (or corrupted as the anon said) version to take smth away, erasing existence...........ngl its interesting concept but he would be devastated fr 😭 using kaveh of all ppl for this aughh

unless u wanna think of it more comical and less angsty, and have him go like nah this thing ugly im just gonna unmake you *deletes offending monument* akhsjcbkj but he wouldnt simply go through this in someone elses world, especially if it manipulates/influences their game in a bad way

but!! imagine if kaveh had this skill fr (not only bursting dendro cores but simply making objects vanish after changing their traits), he would simply delete all the ugly furniture in haithams house that truly insults his eyes AKJSBCKJ can you imagine it go like:

"well, al haitham, i got rid of your entire bedroom because it was just too ugly. thank me later." ....suddenly, later in the evening, kaveh finds himself squished in his own bed between haitham and the wall - his own bed that is way too narrow for two grown men, especially one of haithams size and mass. all because haitham is like "considering this is my house, your bedroom is also mine so i will simply take it until you put every single piece of furniture back to where it belonged."

(this turned into a full, usual youn ramble lol rest is UTC)

kaveh is too proud and refuses to simply give up on his bed to sleep on the divan so he stubbornly stays, which comes back at him to bite his ass when hes in bed and gets a faceful of haithams bare chest and when he turns to face the wall hes too aware of the scribes warm body against his back - its like his dreams came true a nightmare

still too proud to admit defeat and let haitham have his bed, kaveh continues sharing his bed even though he barely gets any sleep with haitham right there. he also starts actually crafting haithams furniture by himself, at first all annoyed with him and simply wanting to finish this as fast as he can no matter how ugly, so he can have his own room for himself again before smth stupid happens (like kaveh giving in and kissing him or confessing)

but as soon as he learns from first hand that haitham is quite the cuddler in his sleep (the first time a sleeping haithams arms wrapped around his waist to pull him into him got him so flustered he didnt sleep at all that night), them getting closer everytime theyre sleeping (the amount of times theyre spooning or lying on top of each other all cuddled up is increasing)............haitham growing more soft now that they spend their nights together, having more of kaveh................his work turns from simply trying to replace what he made disappear to more thoughtful, loving pieces

a bed that resembles haithams older one, but big enough for two people to comfortably sleep in there (not that he designed it with himself in mind, its just....well.....a big bed is always nice and haitham takes up quite a lot of place right? totally not designed for both of them) with curtains in this soothing teal shade he knows haitham is fond of and nice patterns to block out the sun falling through the stained windows if he wants to sleep in; a closet with pretty, geometrical carvings matching his bed that haitham probably doesnt even care about; a nightstand with even a holder for his headset to place on, etc etc

its haithams bedroom but with small changes and improvements regarding design and comfort that kaveh did just for haitham. and he notices. of course he does

however, they got so used and comfortable to this whole (awkward at first) sleeping situation (bc it wasnt just kaveh loving to fall asleep in a sleeping, cuddly haithams arms, it was also haitham loving to wake up to the sight of a sleeping kaveh too) that every now and then kaveh slips into haithams (way too comfortable) bed ("well, i designed it so technically its also my bed") and even though its way bigger than kavehs bed, they somehow still seek each other out and find their way to cuddle up to each other

it doesnt take long until its not just their bodies seeking each other out but also their lips

not longer until the first utters a confession against the others skin, asking him to stay as their fingers intertwine and more kisses are exchanged

and not even longer for them to turn haithams bedroom, all designed and crafted by kaveh with love and care, into their bedroom

tl;dr: not only are they roommates, theres also only one bed (no clickbait)

[seth-burroughs]

I think many fanfics or other works featuring Yomi depict him as like Way Too Serious than he actually is like. That's the guy who mastered the skill to ugly cry on command just so he can mock pretend to be distraught at Seth's heinous atrocities (pointed out by his gf of course) before sending him to the chopper this is the only scene where he did so they even gave him like three unique sprites just for that. This is the man that upon watching the liveleak footage of the submarine explosion (whilst using his gf as a seat) exclaimed in the most enthusiastic voice "KABOOM!! It sank all right! Haha!" in front of tens of his men completely unbothered, minutes later after the woman cube incident he says "alllll right now let's go and find the corpses of those detectives that got blown up :)" with his hand up in the air. And that is after his cube scene. And I cannot state this enough, the Cube Machine was not specifically just made as a one time thing for Martina, the weirdly passionate way he speaks about The Cube, stating he's gonna carry the woman flesh cube on his form at all times in front of tens of his men once a-fucking-gain, the goddamn "even humans can be turned into pretty (highlighted in game.) little cubes" line that even I can't fucking decipher is just... he's just really obsessed with the Cube object. There is no normal (well, as normal as attempting to turn your gf into a cube can be) explanation for this. Plus, invented detectivephobia, according to some people. Even if he claims to Makoto, he can easily also be just... gently coaxed by him just politely saying "please🥺" once, into letting an alleged terrorist completely off the hook, that he wanted to capture and torture so bad before that point. He fumbles his insults so fucking tragically "that's even more impossible than a chance meeting between an umbrella and a sewing machine on an operating table" "empty headed balloon boy" so far I can name only one (1) that actually landed, and that's debatable too. After momentarily getting rid of Makoto resulting in him being alone in the room with Yuma (the goons don't count as people), literally after 2 seconds with the tiny wretch his first question is "what even are you. why do you exist. you aren't from this city. you aren't a detective. so what point is there in your existence :/ not like i care anyway... take him away girls" (what was he on about, how did he know yuma is and isn't a detective, guess you will never know). The "YUOUR IN NO POSITION TO ORDER AROUND THE GREAT YOMI!!1!11". His honest reaction to Makoto getting those documents is to start screeching "CAPTURE HIM EXECUTE HIM CHOP HIS HEAD OFF CRUSH HIS SKULL!!!!!!!!". That was my hopefully comprehensive Yomi moment scene list. Let Yomi be silly and deeply, incredibly unserious. Cringe, even. I am begging. While he can absolutely act intimidating when he wants to, he usually fucks it up like, 3 minutes in with his uncontrollable desire to be the goofiest guy in the room. Genuinely tragic

[gallafics]

𝙶𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚊𝚏𝚒𝚌'𝚜 𝚁𝚎𝚟𝚒𝚎𝚠

Title: Wipe You Clean With Dirty Hands

Author: @livinginsunnyhell/@marzgaperez (Ao3)

Rating: Explicit Series: N/A

Chapters: 3/3 Word Count: 43.6k

Archive Warnings: No Warnings Used

Favorite Character: Ian and Mickey of course. And this fic has my favorite version of Mickey!! There’s also a few great side characters!

Least Favorite Character: Ford and his “gang” of losers.

Ao3 Summary: The door opened behind him and Ian closed his eyes, bracing himself for what was to come next. He took a deep breath in. Steadily, he let it out as he prepared himself to face his new cellmate. Mickey and Ian meet in prison. AU.

Review: This is a lovely quick read, packed with detailed writing, sexy prison smut and slight angst. We’ve got fluff. We’ve got a meet-ugly. We’ve got sexual tension mixed with mutual pining. We got my beloved, protective!mickey. I adore Ian in this fic as well, our lovable dopey boy.

I’ve always been obsessed with the “mickey is a dick to Ian at first but is pining for him, becomes his personal protector and then falls in love” trope! What I love about this fic is that both boys are mutually pining for one another, and then get together in a very strangers-to-friends-to-lovers way. Mickey opening up to Ian is a great scene and them finally breaking the sexual tension is 1000/10, *chefs kiss*, sexy scene. Their dynamic in this is fantastic!

Spoilers Below↓

Favorite Moment(s): As I said above, my absolute favorite scene is when they finally break the sexual tension…

He saw Gallagher’s eyes dart down to his mouth and freeze there. Mickey subconsciously licked his lips and he eyed Ian’s hungrily. One taste…just once…

I also love when Mickey is trying to be all tough, like he’s indifferent to being intimate with Ian but then he just…

The juxtaposition of hot against his back and cold against his front, made him shiver. Or maybe it was Ian’s soft lips mouthing against his neck. He tilted his head so that Gallagher could have more access to the skin right under his ear. He just needed him to move slightly to the—like that. “Fuck,” Mickey whimpered.

Soft moments during sex always get me too…

Against Mickey’s skin, he choked out a whispered promise that they’d find each other again. They’d always find their way back to each other.

One of my favorite moments, a small part where Mickey shows some vulnerability around Ian

He ducked his head, so Ian couldn’t see his face. He watched as Mickey taped his finger against his knee.“Did you ever meet a kid who couldn’t be saved?”

And the ending…it holds a special place in my heart

They could be headed back to the Gallagher house or stopping at a diner for breakfast. Maybe Mickey would drive a few miles and pull over in a secluded area so they could fuck. Or they could continue driving until they ran out of gas and started a new life together wherever they ended up. Whatever it was, Ian didn’t care. He was with Mickey. What he did know was that he was about to be far, far away from Beckman. It might be the place where their relationship started, but it definitely wasn’t where it was ending. 

The story has many moments that brought me joy and excitement and occasionally even made me a bit emotional. It's a great read, despite the mature content, and can be enjoyed quickly while still offering a detailed plot. *I keep mentioning "quickly," and although 43k may not seem short, I mean the fic is written in a way that doesn't feel like a lot!*

Favorite quote(s):

Usually, people feared him. They cowered when he was around. But Ian was fighting back. He was coming closer. Not pulling away.

Or maybe he was a masochist and tended to be into men who wanted absolutely nothing to do with him.

“He and his last cellmate got into it. Milkovich stabbed him with a plastic fork.”

I wonder what his red hair feels like… Mickey shook his head and ran a hand through his own dark hair as he tried to brush those weird thoughts away. His hair probably felt like fucking hair.

He wanted Ian to read him, to understand exactly what he needed without Mickey having to say anything.

Mickey honestly wasn’t sure what he wanted. But he knew what he didn’t want. And that was to wake up in a cell without Ian. To go about his day without Ian.

I could go on and on about how many moments in this fic caught and held my attention. The plot and dialogue are fantastic. I don't want to spoil too much—just read it and see for yourself. You won't be disappointed!

Final thoughts: I was really intrigued by this fic right from the start. It it’s set during the prison era, canon compliant or AU, I'm into it. The way Mickey and Ian's characters are portrayed is so true to their original versions, even in this AU. The way Mickey's longing for Ian is written is beautiful, and it's different from Ian's own pining. I could really feel Mickey's desperation and desire so clearly that it felt like my own emotions on the page! The plot is great, the smut is hot, and the chemistry between the two characters doesn't hit you over the head right away; it builds up gradually, making you want to keep reading. But it doesn't leave you unsatisfied as it wraps up in the best way. I highly recommend it. It's short and to the point, giving everything you need in a fic!

Thank you so much, ProstheticLoVe, for blessing us with this fic!!

— Harley, Gallafics Reviews

*Note that you do need an Ao3 account to read this fic!*

[neptuniadoesstuff]

Abecias Malice Ref (God OC Ref Sheet Remake)

(Edit: Had to pic the drawings a bit bcs I FORGOR I HAD THE FACIAL HAIR AT 30% OF OPACITY LIKE THE MORON I AM!)

AND HES DONE!

After a few days this gae bacon-haired moron is finished & tbh I like this new ver of him more than his original design. (If you wanna see his original design the link is here- (Plz remember the post is pretty old on here as well as the pic bcs originally this fella was actually a Early b-Day gift for my frend back when this year just frikin started.)

& yes that is some wine coming out of his mouth. (He loves his wine) & of course.... Bro is flipping u off. (But it's censored, also I originally was gonna draw a bird crossed out but then I forgor SO LETS PRETEND ME FORGETTING WAS INTENTIONAL & NOT SOME GOOF I COMMITED!) Look we a bit of somewhat vulgarity even if I'm not the person who would just curse. (But I do say byastord, which this guy is, so its fitting.)

Also Lil rewrite of his bio bcs frik u:

|| Name: Abecias Malice (aka Adder'Synn Malkovich) | Gender: Male (Trans), He/Him | Age: ?? (Died at the age of 22-23) | Sexuality: Gae | Height: ??'?? ft (Possibly was 6'2 ft tall when alive) | Enithcity: ?? (Possibly was a Rozokeen/Osmort mix when still alive) | Personality: A very unhinged & crazed individual who seem to have a unhealthy obsession with men & himself?? Seems to really like seeing oeppel die yet despises getting himself dirty to the point that he will literally start avoiding anything that has a SINGLE speck of dirt! What im saying is, hes narcissistic, sadistic, & also very lazy & wants others to do stuff for him. (Also is very racist to bird ppl idk, why though) I Occupation: The King of his kingdom of Vallenfholt (This is Godhome's hew name) | Family: ?? (When alive he had a older brother, a younger sister, & 2 parent but one of them was ded) | Species: Bloopmo (Halflett type) (Formally), Ascended God | Other: Can't seem to get drunk from the wine he always drinks EVERY SINGLE FRIKIN DAY! Is literally a rich pompous a-hole who despises the porr, homeless, & ugly ppl. Also thinks the mailmen are coming for him /hj ||

(A lot of the info here is not filled on purpose bcs gods... dont really care about mortal nonsense.)

Extras: Was originally a college student (or whatever he was when he was still alive) pretty much dealing with a pretty ab*sive father who would not respect his identity & was basically a complete snake. Although one Adder just.. snapped & ran off the campus to drive to his father's house &... kill him... But that was not the end of it, by the next day he had murdered around 12 people & injuring 2 (that being his now ex- bf & his now rival) only to be killed by his once best friend, Hugo.. When he died his soul was sent into the ring of Wrath but over the years, the regret he had turned into pride... He enjoyed what he had become... Not only that but his personality had started to shift, become extremely lustful & abnormally greedy to also having his appearance be shifted also, this was normal for a Sinner, but this Sinner was different... He risen up the rank & eventually became a God, not a well known god but a God nonetheless. Eventually going up into Vallenfholt & making a kingdom there which suited his needs. He however became so obsessed with himself that he pretty much just lost it & became the thing he originally despised the most... A rich, greedy, & selfish monster like his father was. Not only that anyone was below him was eventually killed instantly in the arena that he built for prisoners (Usually bcs he didn't like bcs of their appearance) to fight to the death in. Now as for how the hell he became obsessed with men & started to h8 on bird ppl (+ the whole thing about the mailmen coming for him... idk bro-). Now keep in might he was BoRN in a time humans (the morons from earth) did NOT come to Eeross.

Also if you wanna see the uncensored puc of the guy flipping u goofs off then here- (plz click read more but if u are offended by ppl flipping u off plz don't.)

Yeh no body pic bcs this is a friend's oc (that I made for em) but it would be VERY WEIRD OF ME TO POST THAT! (Even if we are AroAce & its a *full body ref* but plz don't ask me to post it in respect of MY FRIEND!)

ANYWAYS CREDITS BCS I H8 MYSELF! (Not really but I sorta do.... I need help-)

Character: Created by ne but belongs to a frend of mine who I'm gonna keep anonymous but they are on here (I ain't gonna say who BCS THEY ARE MEANT TO BE ANONYMOUS!)

Art: MinE

Program: IbisPaint x.

Bubs' TOS: Plz don't repost/steal, trace, or recolor my art WITHOUT MY PERMISSION! If you do, I'll take yur femur and pelvis.. SO, DON'T THINK ABOUT IT! (The PNS on my blog's pinned post clearly means "Please No Steal" plz follow that rule.) If you do post my art on anything like yur blog or somewhere else (With my permission) PLEASE CREDIT ME!

[caffeineandsociety]

Also I feel a huge reason that a lot of debates over whether trans men or trans women Have Male Privilege/Experience REAL Misogyny fall flat in a lot of regards is that they assume that misogyny is EITHER about Femaleness/Womanhood as an identity, OR the simultaneous idealization and demonization of, and possessiveness over, the presumed-"female" body, when in reality it's very much a matter of both in complex and intersecting ways.

Which ends up meaning that trans women are subjected to the body factor, especially the possessiveness thereof, in ways that are definitely unique - phallocentrism, an aspect of patriarchy and usually tied to male privilege, becomes at LEAST as much of a detriment as a benefit (on the one hand, at least medicine for the "male" reproductive system is pretty well understood and taken seriously; it's not just a matter of biological logistics that make prostate cancer one of the most treatable cancers out there, but that sure as hell doesn't take away the fact that people get fucking creepy and invasive and obsessive over women's dicks - sometimes even when they're trying to be affirming - with obsession with and terror of The Dreaded Penis being a major motive behind arguably the majority of transmisogynistic violence), and trans women are held to an even higher standard of "if you're not a flawless supermodel goddess you shouldn't be breathing my air, let alone outside in public being an eyesore" than cis women - but trans men are ALSO subjected to the possessiveness of it, as well as the neglect, in ways that trans women, save for some intersex ones, are often straight up biologically incapable of being primary victims of (see: the erosion of abortion rights, doctors prioritizing preserving one's ability to become pregnant over anything else in their care, forced pregnancy as an explicit goal of corrective rape, etc. - though notably, the sorry state of the way medically significant period distress is treated is NOT a case of this, as hormone fluctuations can cause everything but the bleeding even in the absence of a uterus!), and it's not like lacking a "natal" penis makes someone inherently immune to being harmed by phallocentrism - treating someone like a lesser person over the lack of a penis where one is expected, or a penis that doesn't function "normally", is very much a manifestation of phallocentrism! Never mind the way vaginas are treated as essentially a gaping void in the brain, or the disgust with which they're so frequently spoken of - that impacts pre- and non-op trans men, AND post-op trans women, both in similar yet slightly distinct ways!

The intersection of these factors also means there are unique ways trans men and trans women experience the identity factor. Trans men experience misogyny for moving away from a female identity being forced upon them; trans women experience it for trying to actively claim that identity for themselves. That identity is seen as lesser, as a Property role, so as far as society sees trans men of COURSE anyone would want to escape it...but you have to stop ~playing pretend~ eventually, right? Alternately, it's traitorous, it's an "I got mine so screw you", it's prolonging the pretend game with roid rage, it's any number of horrible predatory ugly things - because to society, a trans man can never be a real man; his core identity is still A Woman, whether he knows it or not; the closest he can ever come is a disfigured caricature, acting out a rough approximation of an ideal that of COURSE is all the violent parts of that ideal and nothing else. Meanwhile, as far as society is concerned about trans women, no one would EVER opt INTO such a lesser identity without ulterior motives, so it MUST be a predatory thing, right? In many cases, these have similar narratives, but very different overtones.

So, who has it worse? Who experiences more Real Misogyny? Who experiences More Transphobia? Well, that depends on way too many individual factors; there is no constant answer and, critically, there doesn't need to be! It's not about keeping score, it's about making the problems get better! We're not going to do that by denying that people other than us have unique experiences with this shit!

[azurlily]

Day 3 of 31 of the yandere month May challenge. This yandere is a platonic yandere. SO STILL DARK FUCKING THEMES. Sorry this one is shorter than usual.

You want to see your family and leave Fei...she can't have that.

Also I am thinking of doing COMMISSIONS. Every 100 words is 1$. I'll do the people I have set out and I'm willing to do some men. If yall are interested talk to me in my asks.

Yandere!Fei Hargreeves ANGST

"You cant leave. I'm here to keep you safe. Why...why the hell can't you understand that!?"

You two are good friends, she values you as someone she can talk to. She feels safe in your arms, she feels warm, she feels comfortable.

While she is a sparrow and has a hard time being around you without the paparazzi. She loves just seeing you, just being around you. Sadly, though, when the world was going to shit. You wanted to leave, you wanted to go see your family.

You wanted to leave Fei in her time of need. You wanted to leave Fei when she needed you most. You can't do that, why would you do that? What's wrong with you?

You'd leave your best friend- your only friend, in her time of need? You truly are a bad person...but that doesn't matter. She'll fix you, she'll keep you safe. You need her, she can give you anything you want.

Of course...she'll have to get rid of a few obstacles. The obstacles are your family. She's smart, really fucking smart. She controls crows, so she of course has the mind of one. She takes good, good care of your family.

After "dealing" with your family she takes you to see them. You don't know the horrible things she's done, you'll never know. She wont let you.

You see their dead and assume someone killed them. You cry into Feis arms, crying and begging her to take you away from this horrible sight. She smiles happily and does as you ask.

Fei takes you back, back to Alphonso, back to Sloane, back to Ben. Back to your real friends, your real family. She brings you back to the people she believes truly love you.

For weeks you didn't know it was her, she was great at hiding it. Emphasis on the was. She did, at some point, slip up. That was the day it all came crumbling down, it all went to hell.

"Calm down. No, no, you need to calm down, you're going to hurt yourself."

That's what Fei told you when you found out. She slipped up, she was talking to Jayme about it, she was bragging about bringing you back. Back where you belong. She's proud of herself.

You walked in. You heard it all, she was talking too loudly, something she didn't usually do.

You slapped her and her glasses fell off. Her face always gave you a small scare, from the beginning, the then, to now. It's always scared you, you never mentioned it though. That would be rude. Although now, now you could hurl all the ugly words you wanted to at her.

You called Fei all sorts of hateful things. She she only smiles when you finally ran out of breath, you were shaking out of rage.

"Ah. You don't mean that, I mean, you probably do, but I don't care. You can mean it all you want, it doesn't mean I'm mad. No, I'm happy you grew a backbone."

You cried and tried pushing her away as she hugged you. She held you close, she said she wasn't angry, but you knew she was lying. When you went into her room all the birds were cawing at you in anger. She continued to tell you she wasn't mad...until you were alone.

"I'm not sorry for this."

She hurt you. Something she's never done before, she never intended to do it either. She heard your screams as the birds nipped and bit at your skin. She watched in fury, until she found herself calming down.

The birds went into their cages and she smiles. She bandages you up while you glare at her.

"Hate me all you want. I'm keeping you safe, you're my only real family. I'm not afraid to do this again...if it means you'll stay by my side."

She knows she's a monster in your eyes. Although she Hope's one day you see why she does this. Part of it is because she is a monster, she does get some enjoyment of seeing you cry. Only because you run to her, because you have nowhere else to run.

[blackberry-gingham]

👋 hello love your blog and toad content feel free to ignore this. Maybe it will give you some ideas idk

I just was on clock app and watched Esmeralda edits AND IT FITS SO WELL with Mortimer and reader concept like that scene where Esmeralda dancing on festival (?) (I don't remember how it's called) . Unfortunately I can't send an edit but THIS THIS SCENE I'M TALKING ABOUT p. s. I'm really sorry if there any mistakes english not my native language

First of all, sorry this took so long to get to 😭

Second of all, may I just say, your username is ELITE lmao 😂 easily in my top three favorite usernames I've ever seen, right along with dilf-hunter69, I believe it was

Y'all have easily twice the creativity I do lmao

Definitely a cool idea tho! There's lots of cross over for Quasimodo's story and Toad's, I honestly wouldn't be surprised if some of his character iterations were inspired by it all. I do love a good "sad, ugly mutant man gets picked by pretty reader character". Hm....

Ooooo you know what would be cool? Like a straight up au of sorts revolving around the hunchback of Notre Dame + X-Men 👀

This turned into a little blurb, so here you go :) reader is gender neutral btw!

Imagine being a mutant rights activist at like a rally or protest or something and of course the brotherhood are in the area, possibly fighting cops or whatever- something to get the X-Men's attention ig. To speed things up tho, Magneto has the team set sights on the bystanders, which includes you of course.

The rest of the brotherhood doesn't care so they do it, all humans are the enemy after all- even ones who claim otherwise. But... Toad's not so sure. He has reservations, but as usual it only takes a stern look from Magneto to put him in his place. He joins the fight and you and your fellow protestors scatter.

You run because you're getting chased- chased by Toad, it seems. In the rush and the panic, you fall, even getting trampled by the human stampede a little. Toad's on you in no time, and there you lay... Hurt and helpless. He could kill you right now and maybe earn some approval with his master.

Or...

He looks left. Then right. Then over his shoulder for good measure. No one is looking....

"Get up!", Like you weigh nothing at all, he flips you over and sets you on your feet to face him.

You look scared- but he's used to that. Besides, he's not sure he can even blame you. Fear is better than hatred at least. And anything's better than disgust.

In a moment of weakeness, a thought comes upon him; Is this really what he wants to be? Feared and distrusted, by actions of his own doing? As though his face isn't bad enough- isn't he just making things worse? You weren't here to fight or cause trouble after all. Quite the opposite, in fact.

Lost in his mind, he studies your face for a long time... Just about as much as you study his.

A minute well spent- he lets you go gently, sneering even as he does. Toad looks around one more time, backing away to save face until at last he turns to you, a growl of a whisper as his voice, "Go on- get lost, then!", he looks at the surprise in your eyes... Then looks away. He doesn't deserve even that.

"I ain't gonna hurt you... but thems all will if yo-"

Surprise is the least of all the feelings that wash over him when your arms interrupt his warning. Hung tight in an embrace across the back of his neck- Mort suddenly remembers... When was the last time he ever was hugged?

For a fleeting moment, he thinks to return the gesture. Somehow, this feels better then anything he's ever imagined. Better then he ever thought something was silly as a simple touch even could. Your waist is right there, too.

If he'd only move his useless limbs, then maybe he could just...

But the moment passes. And with a gentle, sincere smile- another in the line of first times for him today, you let him go with a hurried thanks before turning to run.

For a long while yet, just long enough to commit your wonderful face to memory... He watches you go. Something in his chest feels tight as he watches you run from him, all the way until you're out of sight.

"Toad! You fool... You let one get away!", from somewhere far away, Magneto growls and degrades- taking a break from the mayhem to round up his troops for the X-Men's approach.

No.... Not running from him, Toad thinks.

Running from-

Erik Lehnsherr mutters yet another insult under his breath, before issuing a new command, "Don't just stand there, go with the others! Charles' men will be here any minute!"

Even as the master of magnetism threatens and barks his orders- His pathetic pawn, this shell of a man, finds he can't help but look after the corner he saw you turn just a little longer... Toad watches. And he thinks. And at last, he turns, face pinched in bitter contempt.

Maybe... Even a Toad could aspire to something better, he wonders. Better then... This. Anything, would be better than this.

But for now-

"Yes... Master..."