#charming ? more like masking ✨️

[pirateswhore]

Emma Swan: I'm a human lie detector. I can tell when you're lying.

me: honey thats autism

[mydearestbeloved]

Chapter 22 [Draft]

Sung Jinwoo/Trial Player!Reader

CW:

Inspired by @circeyoru ‘s “Future Power Couple”

[Masterlist🦋✨️]

“I’ll go ahead, Jinwoo,” you said softly, giving a brief nod to Adam White, the agent from the American Hunter Bureau. The man returned the gesture politely, professionalism etched into his features. You turned on your heels, already scanning the area for a secluded spot where you could teleport safely without attracting undue attention.

Before you could take more than a few steps, a hand gently but firmly grasped your left wrist. The contact stopped you mid-step, and you turned halfway, raising a brow in question.

“Jinwoo—” you started, but his expression stopped you before his words.

“Can you stay?” Jinwoo asked, his voice low, almost hesitant. His tone lacked its usual authority, replaced instead by something softer, almost… vulnerable. And so was his expression, the intensity in his grey eyes as they bore into yours, a quiet plea that he seemed unsure how you would respond to. It wasn’t an order or a casual suggestion—it was a genuine request. “Please.”

You blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the request coupled by the earnestness. His hand remained steady on your arm, his grip, while not forceful, neither was it loose.

Jinwoo was not someone who typically asked for anything, let alone in such a way.

You studied his face, weighing your options. Between the uncharacteristic pleading in his eyes, the whisper-soft quality of his voice, and his hold, it was clear he wouldn’t let go as easily as you would’ve liked. And you doubted it would be worth the trouble to try to convince him otherwise.

Still, seriously, of all the days I decide not to wear my mask, you internally lamented on your decision to forgo the subtle charm that helped mask your presence this time for the memorial service.

Despite your internal grumbling, you conceded with a sigh and allowed a small smile to grace your lips as you nodded.

“Alright.” you murmured, voice light.

At your response, Jinwoo’s neutral expression shifted ever so slightly—his features brightened in a way that was barely noticeable unless one was familiar with him. And unfortunately for you, you were.

Adam, meanwhile, shifted awkwardly on the sidelines. You glanced at him at the corner of your eye, suddenly remembering his presence, and felt a pang of sympathy for the agent. He must have felt incredibly out of place in this strange, silent exchange.

Adam cleared his throat, attempting to regain the momentum of the conversation. “Hunter Sung—”

Before he could finish, Jinwoo pulled you closer with a suddenness that caused you to stumble to his side. Your eyes widened slightly as his grip on your wrist slid to intertwine his fingers with yours.

“Whatever it is you want to tell me,” Jinwoo said calmly, his tone now laced with that quiet authority, “you can tell her.”

You stared at him, lips parting as if to speak but no words came.

The words were simple enough, it wasn’t so much what he said that caught you off guard—it was how he said it. The conviction in his voice was startling, as if his trust in you was absolute, and his words left no room for argument.

You didn’t even have time to recover when Jinwoo glanced down at you, his lips curving into a faint, warm and confident smile.

“She’s someone I can count on,” he added, as if that explained everything.

Adam blinked, visibly thrown off by Jinwoo’s rather blunt declaration. His gaze flickered between the two of you. “Ah, my apologies,” Adam spoke carefully. “Are you two perhaps…?”

Your head snapped toward Adam so quickly that under normal circumstances, you’d have felt a pang of vertigo.

“No!” you blurted out, voice sharper than intended as heat crept up your neck. Quickly regaining your composure, you cleared your throat before continuing more evenly, “You’ve got it wrong, Mr. White. What my friend here meant is that I’m privy to his… rather unique capabilities as a Hunter, and that I know how to keep my mouth shut.”

You managed to keep your tone as steady as possible, ignoring the subtle tightening sensation on your hand somewhere along your choice of words.

Bless Adam White, because he didn’t push further. Instead, he nodded politely, accepting your explanation without comment. “Understood. And please, call me Adam, Miss…?”

Adam stretched out his hand and you accepted it with a smile.

“(Name). Just (Name).”

---

After the conversation wrapped up, Adam escorted both of you to the car waiting nearby. As he excused himself to make a quick call—likely to inform his superiors about the additional “guest” accompanying Hunter Sung—you climbed into the back seat alongside Jinwoo.

It wasn’t until the car began moving that you realized: Jinwoo’s hand was still holding yours.

You glanced down at your entwined fingers, then up at him. Nudging his hand discreetly, hoping he’d take the hint.

He didn’t respond, his face calm and composed as if your silent protests didn’t exist.

You tried again, nudging him a little more insistently. “Jinwoo,” you whispered, “Let go.”

Still, nothing. He remained as nonchalant as ever, his focus seemingly on the passing scenery outside the car window.

Eventually, you gave up, resigned to the situation as you leaned back against the seat. If Jinwoo noticed your surrender, he didn’t show it, though the faint curve of his lips suggested he was aware.

Still, you couldn’t help but feel self-conscious under other’s occasional glances.

From his spot in the front seat, Adam’s eyes flicked toward the rearview mirror. His gaze lingered for a moment before quickly darting away. It was impossible not to, especially after he saw the way the S-ranker’s eyes glowed earlier when you’d referred to him as a “friend.”

Strangely, there was no intel about you, not any that Adam had received anyway. It was as if you went off the radar completely. But how was that possible, if you were this close to Hunter Sung Jinwoo?

The agent glanced between the two of you once or twice and wisely chose to remain silent.

The quiet hum of the engine filled the silence as Jinwoo sat beside you, his usual demeanor in place as if this casual intimacy was the most natural thing in the world. You, on the other hand, couldn’t help but feel acutely aware of his presence.

The coolness of his hand, how calloused it was.

When his thumb brushed against your skin briefly—a motion so fleeting you almost convinced yourself it didn’t happen.

As the vehicle continue to move nearing your destination, you silently wondered why, despite of it all, you couldn’t bring yourself to pull away.

---

Tis as you said, Mother.

Red’s voice echoed faintly in your mind, amusement dancing at the edges of her words.

She really does have them wrapped around her fingers!

You heard Trick’s giggles next, and the others joined in soon after. A cascade of light chimes in your head, each of them speaking in turn as they observed the woman named Norma Selner through your eyes. Their presence in your thoughts was both comforting and mildly distracting.

Norma, for her part, glanced in your direction briefly, likely sensing your gaze. You offered her a soft, unassuming smile and a polite nod. She returned the gesture before focusing her attention back on Jinwoo.

You mentally praised yourself, your children, and the system for the careful layering of enchantments that blanketed your nature so thoroughly. To fool someone like Norma Selner at first glance—someone with her unique gift—was no small feat.

Speaking of the system…

Are you going to intervene? The tone you used in your mind calm but probing. You know what she’s capable of, don’t you?

The response was silence. Not a sound, not a whisper. Nothing.

You sighed inwardly. Really, the empty reply didn’t surprise you. If the system had no objection, it meant the matter was left to you to handle. Typical.

---

Norma Selner was trapped in darkness.

It stretched infinitely in every direction, the pitch-black void with no sign of life. Nothing but an overwhelming emptiness. An endless abyss, where no light penetrated and no sound carried. The air was cold, almost biting, yet it felt weightless and suffocating all at once.

She turned frantically, searching for something—anything—that could anchor her in this oppressive nothingness.

Her breathing quickened as she tried to move, but the weight of the void pressed against her limbs, making her movements sluggish. Frantic, searching for something—anything—that could anchor her in this nothingness.

When her eyes drifted upward, she saw it.

A presence loomed above her, formless yet all-encompassing. Its gaze piercing and ancient, and it was staring back at her, dissecting her, peeling away every layer of her being.

It filled her with an indescribable, primal fear.

A scream clawed at her throat, but before she could release it, a faint glow fluttered at the edge of her vision.

A butterfly.

Delicate and luminous as it danced in the void. A tiny beacon, a stark contrast to the surrounding darkness.

“Come with us!” chimed a chorus of soft, bell-like voices.

Her trembling legs moved on instinct, her body scrambling to follow the glittery trail left behind without a second thought.

The abyss seemed to shift as she ran, the oppressive darkness trailing after her, neither rushing nor retreating. Instead, it moved as though it were tethered to the guiding light.

The void began to change.

The darkness beneath her feet gave way to splashes of crimson, blooming into vivid red spider lilies, their petals stark against the blackness. With every step she took, the flowers spread further, their roots twisting into the emptiness and replacing it with something tangible.

Bare feet splashed into shallow water, the sound oddly grounding, sending ripples across its surface. She looked down, startled, to see the night sky reflected perfectly in the liquid mirror beneath her. Above her, stars shimmered like diamonds scattered across the vastness of space.

She came to a stop, breathless, her heart pounding in her chest. The butterfly of light had vanished, leaving her alone amidst the endless field of red flowers that seemed to sway with an unseen breeze. Gone with them the fear that had gripped her prior.

And then she felt it.

Warmth.

It radiated through her body and soul, soothing every nerve and easing every ounce of tension she carried, melting away like frost under the morning sun. She barely noticed as a pair of hands cradled her face gently, tilting it upward.

Norma found herself staring at a figure clad in flowing white. Under the veil, molten gold eyes met her own. They were luminous yet distant, like sunlight filtered through a mist. She couldn’t look away.

The figure exuded an aura of pure, untainted comfort. Norma felt her knees weaken under the weight of their presence, not from fear, but from an overwhelming sense of belonging.

“Wake up,” the figure mouthed, tender yet commanding.

Norma’s lips parted as if to respond, but she couldn’t form the words. Their warmth was intoxicating and she felt herself sinking into the divine embrace, wanting nothing more than to remain there. Forever.

But the words came again, firmer this time, like a gentle pull back to reality.

“Wake up.”

---

Norma Selner jolted awake, gasping for breath.

The fluorescent lights of the meeting room above her felt harsh against her eyes. It was also loud with commotion, voices overlapping as figures moved in her periphery, while she could barely process her surroundings. Everything felt distant and distorted.

“I apologize, Mr. Sung, Miss (Name),” came a calm yet firm voice. It was Michael Conner, the deputy director. His tone carried a measured mix of authority and unease. “Our agents stepped out of line.”

Words were exchanged, but Norma couldn’t register them. Her trembling hands clutched her head, tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, though whether from fear or something else entirely, she couldn’t tell

The deputy director’s voice broke through again, this time directed at her.

“Mrs. Selner? What’s wrong?”

She blinked rapidly through her blurred vision, chest still heaving heavily.

“You’re sweating profusely,” Michael said, filled with concern. “Are you feeling ill?”

Norma tried to respond, but her throat felt dry, and her thoughts remained scattered.

“It seems Mrs. Selner isn’t feeling well today,” Michael added, his tone returned to professional and polite as he spoke to Jinwoo. “Can we contact you another time?”

“Wait.”

Somehow, Norma could single out that soft, melodic voice through the haze.

“I’m a healer. I can at least stabilize her condition, if you’ll allow me.”

Michael looked uncertain, but after a quick glance at Norma’s state, he nodded reluctantly. “Please, if you’re able to help her.”

You moved closer to the trembling woman, careful not to overwhelm her with sudden movements. Kneeling beside her, you gently placed your hands on either side of her face. She flinched at the contact, but the moment your magic flowed through her, she stilled.

Like sunlight breaking through clouds, warmth enveloped her once again, though it was softer, less overwhelming than—

Her breathing slowed, and the trembling in her limbs subsided.

Norma finally looked up, meeting your gaze.

“Y-you…” she croaked, her voice hoarse and weak.

“Shh,” you interrupted softly, your tone soothing. “Mrs. Selner, please focus on calming yourself first, alright? Everything else can wait.”

Though your voice was kind, there was a gentle finality to your words. Despite the comfort you exuded, Norma couldn’t shake the weight of something absolute—an unspoken order she had no choice but to obey.

Her lips pressed together in silent compliance as she nodded faintly, allowing herself to bask in the warmth of your touch a moment longer.

---

"My..."

It was faint, distant yet heavy, reverberating with its own brand resonance, an echo from the depths of the pitch-black void.

"My...Lord..."

There it was again—the voice that whispered the moment you connected your space with Norma Selner’s consciousness, delving into the depths of her mind and subsequently brushing against something far older, far darker.

The first time, you stiffened at the sound, not out of fear but from recognition. There was something achingly familiar in the tone, something that resonated deep within you.

"Is…that...you…?"

As you stood at the border, the voice echoed again, closer this time, yet wavering, tinged with denial and something akin to long-lost longing.

"Impos...sible..."

You didn’t move to retreat as shadowy wisps emerged from the abyss, curling outward like hands reaching for you. They stopped mere inches from your form, and it was hard to make out through the ever-changing smoke, but you had a feeling that they were trembling, as if afraid their touch would break the illusion. Or was it unsure of their welcome?

There was a battle in your mind, with two opposing sides.

You should have been alarmed; the situation was rife with danger, uncertainty, and countless unknowns. Yet, you didn’t fully understand why, but you felt no fear. Something in you—a quiet yet inexplicable confidence—assured you that whatever dwelled in this darkness would not harm you.

And so, following the feeling you couldn’t name and ignoring the flicker of logic warning you against it, you raised your hands.

Your palms pressed gently against the shadowy wisps. The tendrils were both intangible and tangible; past the ephemeral smoke, ethereal to the touch, was cold as metal. They quivered at your gesture but didn’t pull away as you slowly guided them to your face, resting their hard edges against your cheeks.

The icy touch reminded you of a certain raven-haired protagonist. You closed your eyes, welcoming their hesitant presence with calm serenity.

"You...are...not..."

The voice grew clearer, imbued with an unplaceable mix of awe and turmoil.

"How...?"

You opened your eyes then, gazing into the abyss with a tenderness that seemed to soften even the restless darkness starting to embrace you whole in accordance to the crumbling space behind you.

You asked, your voice calm, serene.

“Are you upset?”

There was a pause, the silence stretching, until the shadowy thumb brushed against your cheek. Its sharp edges moving with the utmost care, as though they feared leaving a mark on your skin.

"No."

The answer came at last, heavy with an emotion you couldn’t quite identify.

"I...do…not...know..."

“Then,” you began, your voice unwavering as you continue to cradle his hands in yours.

“Will you let me see you again soon?”

---

After stabilizing Norma Selner’s condition and ensuring she was in no immediate danger, you and Jinwoo were escorted to his car.

As Adam’s car disappeared down the street, Jinwoo was the first to speak.

“Is it really okay?” his tone measured, though his gaze was sharp as he watched you. “Showing your powers to her like that.”

Your eyes remained on the direction the agent’s vehicle had gone, a butterfly trailed discreetly behind it. Jinwoo spotted the second one you had planted on Norma Selner earlier, fluttering innocuously on her shoulder.

“She only saw a glimpse,” you answered smoothly. “Besides, there’s no point in hiding from someone like her. She’ll find out sooner than later, and I’d rather she learn under my terms.”

Jinwoo’s eyes narrowed. “You know what she’s truly capable of?”

You finally turned to him; your expression as unreadable as they were distant. “Yes.”

“So, I’m guessing it’s a fail?”

You gave him a flat look before answering. “Your powers have no limits, Jinwoo. Her abilities won’t work on you.”

Jinwoo absorbed that information in silence, then added, “Or on you.”

You didn’t confirm or deny it, only staring back at him with an inscrutable gaze.

Between the two of you, this was familiar by now, an indication that this was as far as you could tell him, as far as the system would let you anyway. There was no need for words, and Jinwoo could proudly say that he could take it with a stride now.

He gestured to his car.

“Let me drive you home,” Before you could decline, he added, “I want to talk to you.”

---

The car ride was quiet, the hum of the engine the only sound filling the space between you. You sat in the front passenger seat, your gaze wandering on the passing scenery outside the window, where other vehicles blur by.

“So,” you began, breaking the quiet, “what is it?”

Jinwoo tightened his grip on the steering wheel, his eyes fixed on the road ahead.

“It’s overdue, I owe you an apology,” he said, his voice steady but tinged with hesitation. “For back then—at my rank re-evaluation.”

He heard a soft sigh and Jinwoo snuck a quick glance as you shifted in your seat. You were looking straight ahead now, expression still hard to read.

“I should’ve been more careful,” he continued, the words spilling out faster now, tinged with regret. “You told me before, that you wanted to stay hidden, and I should’ve respected that. I admit I got…distracted. Too caught up in wanting to show you how far I’d come. But that’s no excuse for crossing your boundaries like that.”

He took a deep breath before adding, “I’m sorry.”

“Jinwoo…” Your voice was too quiet. He wondered if he somehow messed up again.

“I’m sorry too.”

That was the last thing Jinwoo expected to hear. His grip on the steering wheel momentarily loosening as he caught himself. He shot you a quick glance a second time before returning his eyes to the road.

 “Why are you apologizing? You didn’t—”

“I was high-strung that day,” you cut him off gently, probably already anticipating his protest. “I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. I forgive you. Just…” You paused, turning to look at him. “Just tell me in advance next time you’re planning to pull something like that. Clearly.” You emphasized, though your gaze softened.

“Like when you wanted me to accompany you in meeting the U.S. Hunter Bureau just now.”

The road was mercifully empty as Jinwoo risked another glance at you, and the sight of your expression made his chest tighten unexpectedly.

“Thank you for that.”

The setting sun illuminated your face as you said it sincerely. The way your eyes shine with unmistakable fondness, expression warm and tender. The shy smile tugging at your lips, carrying an undeniable gentleness. Your unwavering attention. All of it—at this moment—directed solely at him.

How utterly lovely.

Jinwoo’s throat felt dry, and he quickly looked back at the road.

“R-right. You’re welcome. I mean—” He stumbled over his words, the tips of his ears burned. “I forgive you too…”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw your shoulders shaking slightly as you covered your mouth. Failing to prevent a few giggle that managed to slip by.

Jinwoo felt heated up—the warmth a similar kind to when you held hands or when you were in pretty close proximity—and he had half a mind to crank up the AC.

Still, he couldn’t help the giddiness. Because in that moment, he didn’t mind embarrassing himself if it meant hearing your sweet laughter again.

End Note:

Unfinished Draft of [28/11/2024] -

[ghostlyferrettarot]

❗️This is a collective reading, take what resonates and leave the rest❗️

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🎀Masterlist🎀 🎀Masterlist 2🎀

‧₊˚💎✩ ₊˚Pile 1: What makes you so charming is that unique ability you have to be absolutely yourself, without trying to fit in or be liked by others. No matter what happens around you; you have a way of staying centered and serene that gives peace of mind to those around you. Your energy is so genuine that it is impossible not to be drawn to it. You also have an incredible ability to be spontaneous, to go beyond the conventional and make things flow naturally. In addition, your essence is deeply natural; the k-drama "True beauty" could be meaningful, you give me lim Joo-kyung vibes <3 . You don't need to make a great effort to show who you are, because your true beauty lies in being authentic. That lack of fear of being different or taking risks makes you fascinating, because you don't follow pre-established rules; rather, you create your own, and that's something people deeply admire. People enjoy being in your company because, without having to say anything, you manage to convey a sense of freedom, freshness and joy that is simply magnetic. What really makes you charming is your ability to be yourself, without pretense, without masks. People feel like they can be themselves with you, which creates an atmosphere of acceptance and comfort that is not easy to find elsewhere. You are simply like a breath of fresh air in a world that can sometimes feel too heavy.

‧₊˚💎✩ ₊˚Pile 2: First off, you give me Aurora vibes, your energy feels like a princess. It's like if you have an inner calm that is effortlessly transmitted to others. You have an incredible ability to listen and absorb, without rushing to give answers or solutions, you are "serene" is what I hear. Naturally others want to know more about you, they want to understand you, but not in a way that feels forced. You are simply that person who, without trying to impress, creates a space where others can be themselves and feel understood. You are also a mystery to many, but not in the sense of being inaccessible, but in that there is something about you that invites curiosity. You are not there to show off or impress, but people are drawn to your serene way of being. What really makes you so charming is how, without saying much, you make people feel heard and valued. You are the type of person who, with a look or a small word, can make someone see things from another angle, I feel like you light up a lot of people's life pile 2! There is something almost magical about how you make others feel like you understand, even if you don't always say it out loud.

‧₊˚💎✩ ₊˚Pile 3: Im seeing right away that people watch you and, without realizing it, feel a little more alive just by being around you. There's something about your way of being that reminds them that life is more fun when you throw yourself into the unknown, when you take risks and follow what makes you feel fulfilled. You have a unique way of being fierce. You are that person who, when you walk into a room, manages to make everyone feel a little more encouraged, even on the grayest of days. It's as if your confidence is a magnet, and without you realizing it, you inspire others to be a little more daring, to try new things, to enjoy the journey more. What's fascinating about you is how you manage to balance such vibrant energy with a calmness that surprises. Although you are able to throw yourself into new experiences with all your being, you also know when to step back and take a breath. That mix of pure energy and self-control is what makes people want to be around you. They see you as someone who has everything under control, but without being rigid, and that is very attractive. Your confidence is not arrogant; it is relaxed, as if you have a calm certainty that everything will work out, and that is something that is rarely found.

‧₊˚💎✩ ₊˚Thank you for reading and let me know if it resonated‧₊˚💎✩ ₊˚

[redvexillum]

Well, this was just asking for a companion piece to my other two story C☆CKWARMING and ROUGH S☆X, so thank you for that. I dedicate this story to @kewpikayo. Listen, I dedicated yesterday's story to your wife, it only makes sense this story should be dedicated to you - after all, Dew & Kew FOREVER! 💖

TAGS/WARNINGS: f!reader, human!alastor, alastor is dom, reader is sub, pain kink, reader is masochistic, alastor is sadistic, bad BDSM etiquette, no safe word, no after care, blood play, biting, spanking, rough ☆ral s☆x, p in v, c☆m outside, c☆m eating, implied period-typical racism

✨️ Companion piece to C☆CKWARMING and ROUGH S☆X. This story is the origin of where it all started. ✨️

A low, irritated growl simmered in Alastor’s throat as he watched you—Daddy’s sheltered little girl—stumble back, arms flailing as the load you carried slipped from your grip. You landed unceremoniously on the ground, the papers and boxes you’d been carrying spilling around you like fallen leaves. The sight was exasperating, yet all too familiar; he wasn’t sure whether to sigh, sneer, or simply walk away. 

Instead, he felt his left eye twitch as he forced his grin wider, an increasingly tight smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. Each muscle in his face strained against his better judgment, but he bent down, begrudgingly extending a hand to help you up. 

And there it was: the way your cheeks bloomed crimson as you looked up at him, hesitantly taking his hand as if touching him was some kind of privilege. 

Under normal circumstances, he would have thrived on this—the adoration, the bashful flush, the clear admiration in your eyes that so many others had shown him. The mere idea of having another fan should’ve filled him with smug satisfaction. But not this time. 

No, there was one pesky fact that dulled the thrill. 

From the beginning, breaking into the radio world had been an uphill battle. The station was his dream, and to make it a reality, he’d had to secure an investor. But with his humble roots, Alastor had needed more than a charming smile; he needed money, power, and someone with influence willing to back a stranger like him. And so he’d found himself entangled with a wealthy patron—a man who agreed to fund him… under one condition. 

He had to hire you.

You. 

His patron’s clumsy, insipid little daughter, the perpetual thorn in his side. Each time he thought he’d seen every mistake a person could make, you’d invent a new one, blundering through tasks with astonishing incompetence. His nerves frayed more with every passing day as he forced himself to breathe, to smile, to tell you gently that "everyone makes mistakes." The words tasted like rot in his mouth. 

Alastor considered himself a patient man. A forgiving man. But everyone has their limits. 

And you, quite simply, were his. 

He took a slow, seething breath, plotting as he felt the spark of a plan take root. If he could get you to quit on your own, perhaps he could still keep the funding—maybe, if he played his cards right, he could even sway your father to his side without the added irritation of watching you trip over your damn feet every three steps. 

So he began to freeze you out. Day after day, he kept his distance, watching from the corner of his eye as you struggled on, hoping his chilly demeanour would drive you away. But you were far too talkative, your relentless cheer slipping through the cracks of his carefully crafted mask. Every time he steeled himself to ignore you, there you were, talking at length about how much you loved his show, how much his puns and wordplay made you laugh, how his humour lifted your spirits. 

The way your eyes sparkled when you praised him—it should have been satisfying. Instead, it was infuriating. 

Yet, against his better judgment, he found himself responding. Something in the glint of your smile made his guarded grin relax, if only for a moment. Begrudgingly, he’d join in, rolling his eyes at your endless enthusiasm but unable to entirely dismiss it. It was as if you were some parasitic creature, a leech drawing life from him, clinging on with no intention of letting go. 

And he endured—patient, calculating, waiting for you to tire of him. 

But then came the last straw. His beloved broadcast, his dream, was starting to slip through his fingers. Listeners dropped off, each patron he had worked tirelessly to convince backed out one by one. Every investment vanished like smoke. And with it, his patience thinned to a knife’s edge, fraying with each setback. Months of self-restraint, of resisting his baser urges, of refraining from any “extracurricular activities” in favour of keeping his show alive, felt like sacrifices crumbling underfoot. 

And he blamed you. 

Though in truth, your mistakes weren’t drastic enough to ruin his business, but they were enough to tear away at his sanity: the times you forgot to pick up his dry cleaning, spilled coffee on his meticulously crafted script—one he knew by heart—or neglected to take his typewriter in for maintenance, forcing him to painstakingly handwrite his next segment. Small annoyances, but they added up, each one tightening the coil of irritation within him. 

Today, though, something snapped. It started with a simple spill, water glistening on the polished wooden floor of his office. As you bent down to hurriedly wipe it, your hand brushed against his glass vase, sending it crashing to the ground in a cascade of shattered crystal. The shards sparkled around you, a mocking reflection of the life he felt slipping into chaos. 

In one swift movement, he had you pinned against the wall, his hands braced beside your head, his body pressing close. He could feel the heat radiating from you, his knee slipping between your legs, lifting just enough to keep you fixed in place. The room felt smaller, the air charged with something he couldn’t name, something that sent a thrill down his spine as he watched the flush creep up to your cheeks. 

“I have never met anyone as clumsy and foolish as you,” he murmured, his voice low, menacing. Though his mouth held its trademarked grin, his eyes burned, dark and narrowed, a storm barely restrained. 

“Ah, u-uhm,” you stammered, your eyes darting away, body trembling before him. 

“Look. At. Me.” His fingers caught your chin, tilting your face up, so your gaze was locked with his. 

Deep down, Alastor knew he was risking everything. You were untouchable—Daddy’s little girl from a family of wealth and power, far beyond his own background. He knew what one accusation could do, one tear sent running back to your father. His dream, his work, his station—he could lose it all before he could snap his fingers, hah! 

But right now, the months of mounting irritation, of resisting every impulse, of pushing down every dark urge—none of it seemed to matter. 

“So-sorry, s-sir,” you whispered, a helpless apology on your lips. And at that moment, something snapped within him. The rush of power, the slight tremor in your voice, the glimmer of fear in your eyes—it was intoxicating. 

His fingers itched with desire, a pulse of longing, dark and primal. 

He wanted to choke you, see the life dull from your eyes, kill you. 

It had been so long since he’d indulged, felt the thrill of being in control, of bending someone to his will. Slowly, his hand slipped down, brushing along the column of your neck, fingers tracing the soft, vulnerable skin. 

Just a small squeeze. Just a taste.

The moment his hand rested there, he felt the rapid beat of your pulse beneath his fingertips, sensed the quick rise and fall of your breath. Your pupils widened, darkening with something that wasn’t just fear, and he nearly laughed at the realization. 

You were… enjoying this. 

“Was it all on purpose, dear?” His voice dropped to a dark murmur, lips just a breath away from your ear, close enough that he could feel the heat of you. “Did you want this to happen? Have you been fantasizing about this with me?” His leg shifted, pressing upward, his knee sliding dangerously close to the warmth of your core, your skirt sliding higher as he held you in place. 

There was no escape for you, nowhere to look but at him, and he could hear your heart pounding louder, a heat blooming that had nothing to do with fear. The line between his anger and desire blurred, each breath he shared with you pulled him deeper into something he couldn’t resist. 

“Did you want to be punished by me?” Alastor’s voice was a low, dangerous purr, his fingers pressing into the side of your neck as he held you there, watching your every response. The softest moan slipped from your lips, unbidden, and his mouth curved into a slow, wicked grin. 

“Oh, dear,” he murmured, clicking his tongue in mock reproach. “How utterly deviant, depraved, you are.” He leaned closer, his lips barely grazing the edge of your ear. Every sound, every whisper, heightened the tremble in your muscles as your body gave in to his hold. 

Alastor felt the thrum of his own pulse, a deep, carnal need that was building to an undeniable point. He’d known desire before, but never this tangled web of control and raw hunger that he felt with you pinned so willingly beneath him. 

To his dark amusement, he felt the tightening in his pants as he took in every inch of your flushed, submissive form. You were an enticing little thing, and now, the line he’d never meant to cross was beginning to blur. 

A tempting thought crossed his mind. “If I fulfill your desire, will you fulfill mine, dear?” His voice was a low, velvet promise as he pressed his knee firmly against your core, feeling the heat of you even through the fabric. His grin grew, an expression laced with a dangerous delight. “How utterly sinful you are, hiding that desire under a mask of innocence.” 

“I-I would do anything you’d like, sir,” you whispered, breath hitching, your hands glued to your side.

Keeping his eyes locked with yours, Alastor pulled back, though he didn’t allow enough distance for you to look away—or see the intensity of his arousal pressing through his trousers. 

“Let me give you what you want,” he murmured. “One good, hard fuck, and I,” his voice turned sweet as he tilted his head, his gaze narrowing with intent, “want you to quit for good, after ensuring that Daddy keeps his generous funding for me.” He brushed his fingers along your cheek, a mockingly gentle caress. “What do you say, dear? Do we have a deal?” 

You hesitated, looking into his eyes, the flush of your cheeks deepening as your lip caught between your teeth. “Hard f-fuck?” you stuttered, voice soft yet bold, your fingers hovering near his chest before you finally dared to touch him, briefly tugging at the lapels of his jacket. “You don't find that strange?” 

Alastor didn't care how unusual your desire was. As long as he got what he wanted at the end, that was all that mattered to him. 

The end always justified the means. 

A dark laugh slipped from him, and he tightened his grip, one hand sliding up to tangle in your hair, fingers pulling enough to tip your head back as he leaned in. He pressed himself against you, his hardness now unmistakable against your stomach, his lips grazing yours in the lightest, tantalizing tease. 

“Eyes on me, darling,” he commanded softly, releasing his hold on you just enough to let his thumb trail down your lip as he took a small step back, watching you. “Now,” his voice dropped to a dark whisper, “strip.” 

To his delight, you hesitated, only for a heartbeat. Your cheeks flushed in that shade of pretty pink he found almost as irresistible as your trembling compliance. But then, slowly, you began undoing the buttons of your blouse, your fingers shaking slightly as you slipped the fabric from your shoulders, baring yourself to his gaze. 

Heat surged in his veins, not only from the sight of you, but from the delicious power thrumming in his veins. This wasn’t just about pleasure. It was control, a feeling as heady as the thrill of holding someone’s life in his hands. 

But tonight, he was going to savour every second of holding you in the palm of his hand. 

As your clothes slipped away, one by one, you stood bare before him, your skin glistening in the dim light, the cool air teasing your erect nipples. He stepped closer, the sharp click of his heels against the polished wood. “Someone might come in, dear; are you aware of that? I left the door unlocked, after all.” His voice dripped with sadistic glee.

Your breath hitched, and your gaze flicked nervously to the doorknob, before you paled, realizing it was indeed unlocked. You had no idea that his workers had all quit once they heard wind of the investors backing out. 

Yet, you stood your ground, your eyes meeting his with a potent mix of fear and unyielding resolve. There was a trust there—a dangerous, intoxicating trust—that he knew he didn’t deserve but was all too willing to take. 

“Kneel,” he commanded, and your knees hit the floor without hesitation. His lips curled into a wicked grin as he closed the distance, his hips thrusting forward enticingly. “Show me just how much you want it, dear.” His voice was sultry and low, coaxing you into surrender. Your fingers fumbled with his belt and pants, pulling them down to reveal his half-hard cock, thick and waiting for you. 

You inhaled sharply, before you pressed your lips to the tip while looking up at him, waiting for his next command. “Open your mouth,” he ordered, and you obeyed, “Tongue out,” he added, and your tongue slipped out from your lips, eager to please him. 

With a firm grip on your hair, he guided your head forward, forcing his cock deeper into your mouth. A low, primal groan escaped him, echoing off the walls of the office. It had been far too long since he’d indulged in such raw pleasure, and the thrill of having complete control over you heightened his arousal. This was not the gentle foreplay he was used to; this was a deliciously crude act of dominance that made his heart race. 

He couldn’t help but imagine how his mother would disapprove of his treatment of you. But you craved this, wanted him in ways that thrilled and terrified you both. It felt like a dark dance of power—a beautiful, twisted exchange that neither of you could resist. 

With each thrust, he lost himself deeper in your warmth, the sensation of your soft, wet mouth engulfing him driving him to the edge. He revelled in the control he wielded, in the way you surrendered to his desires, your submission stoking the one lukewarm drive within him. 

The best part of this exchange? He was going to remain on top, remain in control, remain in power, both in the deal struck and the way he devoured you. 

When he called you depraved, a deviant, your heart sank. Deep down, you knew it was true; your desires were unconventional, perhaps even strange. You had been with other men before, yet none had ever come close to scratching the itch that Alastor stirred within you. 

Every word he spoke about you rang true. Yes, you had a crush on him. Yes, you often found yourself lost in naughty, impure thoughts about him. Still, you yearned to keep those thoughts hidden, for working for him had become the highlight of your months. 

For once, you felt needed, desired, and useful—feelings that seemed to vanish the moment you returned home, where you faced the disappointment of your parents after yet another failed meeting with a suitor. The worry etched on their faces suggested they feared you might become a spinster.

The thought of Alastor wanting you to quit stung. It felt as if your dreams were crumbling around you, and the realization that he didn’t reciprocate your feelings hurt more than you cared to admit. But if you could have him for the first and last time, you wanted it to be an unforgettable memory. 

What Alastor would never realize was that you would never allow your father to withdraw his support from him financially. You loved his show genuinely, and you wanted to see him succeed and thrive. You believed in him wholeheartedly, confident that one day he would achieve the success he deserved, so he wouldn’t have to bargain for your father’s backing. 

As his hot, heavy cock filled your mouth, you felt a rush of heat flush through your body. You gagged slightly when the tip pressed against the back of your throat, a combination of pleasure and slight panic washing over you. The salty taste of him overwhelmed your senses, and you glanced up, seeing Alastor’s eyes closed in pure ecstasy. His fingers gripped your hair, the pressure varying as he slowly rolled his hips, the head of his cock brushing against the roof of your mouth. 

Each time you choked on him, you felt the violent twitch of his cock, and a small, heady low moan from him. It seemed he relished the sounds you made, and you focused on creating a tight seal around him, sucking with all the enthusiasm you could muster. But the bliss was abruptly cut short when he pulled your hair, yanking you off his cock. A glistening strand of saliva connected the tip of his cock to your lips, then fell, leaving a tiny droplet on the floor. 

“Messy girl,” he teased, and you could see the hard anger in his eyes fade, replaced by a gleam of something more raw and animalistic. He was enjoying this, and your heart raced at the thought. “Always making a mess of all my things.” His gaze flickered to the shattered vase on the floor, but thankfully, none of the fragments had reached where you knelt. “What do you have to say for yourself?” 

Your shoulders jumped as you looked up at him, your voice trembling. “I’m so—” But before you could finish, he thrust his cock back down your throat. You gagged again, tears springing to your eyes as you grasped at his thighs for stability. 

The struggle for breath was real, but Alastor didn’t relent, pushing deeper until your vision blurred from the lack of air. You fought to breathe through your nose, panic mingling with arousal. Just when you thought you might pass out, he finally pulled back, leaving you gasping for air, your body bowed low as coughs escaped your lips, mixed with tears and saliva spilling from your mouth. 

“I should punish you, shouldn’t I?” Alastor purred, his voice smooth like silk as he sauntered over to the single-seat couch in the corner of his office. His cock stood proudly, glistening with your saliva, an inviting sight that made your heart race. He patted his knee, an invitation that sent a shiver down your spine. “Come.” 

A flutter of excitement mixed with trepidation filled you as you quickly stood up, your legs feeling slightly unsteady as you approached him. When you reached him, your stomach flipped with a blend of curiosity and uncertainty. His gaze roamed hungrily over your body, settling on your slick folds, and he hummed a low note of approval. Slowly, he extended his hand, sliding a finger between your inner folds before teasingly flicking your sensitive clit. 

A sharp gasp escaped your lips as you doubled over, almost collapsing onto his lap. You could see the wicked glint in his eyes as he observed the slickness on his finger before bringing it to his mouth, tasting you. “Hmm,” he hummed, a smirk played on his lips. “Lay on my lap, stomach down.”

Your mind spun with a mix of confusion and apprehension. You complied, laying across his lap, your gaze dropping to the floor, heart racing. You felt the heat of his hard cock pressing against your side, and his hand began to stroke the gentle curve of your ass, sending sparks of desire coursing through you. 

“Have you ever been punished before, my dear?” he asked suddenly, his tone teasing yet serious. You hesitated, unsure of how to respond. “Have you ever been spanked before?” he corrected himself with a soft chuckle. 

Confusion clouded your thoughts as you shook your head. “N-no, my mama and papa never laid a hand on me like that,” you admitted quietly, unsure where Alastor was going with this. 

“Ah, it all makes sense now,” he mused, his hand continuing to caress your ass, fingers grazing your drenched folds. The teasing touch was just enough to send waves of heat pooling in your core, igniting a desperate need within you. You wanted him to delve deeper, to flick your clit until you were begging for release. 

“Let me give you a lesson on what we do to spoiled princesses,” Alastor remarked, his voice dripping with mock cheer. 

Before you could utter a word, you felt a sharp slap against your left cheek. The sting radiated through you, a mix of pain and unexpected pleasure that made tears prick at your eyes. You stifled a cry, fingers clenching at his pants in a desperate bid for control. 

“Does it hurt?” he asked, his tone devoid of any sympathy, only curiosity. 

You nodded vigorously, the truth washing over you. 

“Excellent,” he replied, a smirk curling at his lips before he raised his hand again, delivering another sharp slap to the same spot. The pain was intense, yet thrilling, and you felt a tear escape, rolling down your cheek as your body reacted in ways you never thought it could. 

Before you could beg him to stop, you felt his fingers plunge deep into your core, rubbing and massaging against your walls. A sharp gasp escaped your lips, quickly morphing into a heady moan as your body instinctively wiggled, seeking more of his touch. The slick sound of his fingers squelching inside you mixed with your cries, blending the initial pain into a dizzying rush of pleasure. 

Suddenly, an insatiable hunger ignited within you. You hadn’t realized how exquisitely pain and pleasure could intertwine. “Please, sir, m-more,” you mewled, unable to hold back the desperate need spilling from your lips as you turned your tear-streaked face to meet his gaze. Your heart raced, overwhelmed by the heady blend of emotions and sensations. 

Alastor’s fingers stilled inside you, his eyes darkening as they traced over your expression, drinking in your vulnerability. The corners of his lips twitched with satisfaction, and you felt the heat of his cock twitching insistently against your side. In a swift motion, he withdrew his fingers, pulling you up and manoeuvring you to straddle his lap. 

Blood rushed to your head, the dull ache of arousal amplifying every sensation. Your breath hitched as you felt the thick tip of his cock pressed against your entrance. With a firm pull, he sank you down onto him, filling you completely to the hilt. 

A scream tore from your throat, a mix of shock and bliss as the delicious stretch enveloped you. Tears streamed down your cheeks, mingling with the sharp, heat of pleasure as his cock throbbed against your walls. The arousal only mounted as Alastor leaned back against the couch, his mouth slightly parted, eyes fluttering shut in bliss. 

Moments later, he opened his darkened eyes. His fingers released your hips, and he commanded, “Move.” 

You hesitated, adjusting to his size, then began to lift yourself up, savouring the emptiness he left behind before sinking back down onto him again. The rhythm felt exhilarating as you rode him, bare and exposed before his hungry gaze. 

His hands found their way to your nipples, fingers grazing your sensitive skin, teasing your areolas with gentle circles. The electric pleasure shot through you, urging you to move faster, each rise and fall sending jolts of pleasure through your body. As you sank back down, he pinched your nipples hard, the sensation exploding through you. 

A sharp cry escaped your lips, mingling with a wave of decadent arousal that crashed over you. Desperation consumed you as you began to grind against his hip, your clit pulsing with need, craving attention, longing for the release that only he could provide. 

“My, you certainly do handle pain in quite a strange way,” Alastor said, his breath coming in heavy, lust-filled gasps as his hips jerked up against you. “Though—hah—I can’t say that I dislike it,” he murmured, a wicked grin spreading across his lips. 

He pulled your body forward, pressing his face between the soft, inviting curves of your breasts. His hips took full control, pistoning his thick cock deep inside you. Each thrust sent shockwaves of pleasure rippling through your body, rising in a staccato rhythm that matched the desperate cries spilling from your lips. His teeth sank into the tender flesh of your breast, and you felt a delicious blend of pain and elation that blurred the lines of your pleasure. 

Your fingers dug into his shoulders, clinging to him as he bit down harder, his hunger for you evident in the fierce way he held you. Finally, he let go, his breath hot and ragged as he revealed his lips stained crimson with your blood. 

Your heart raced as you looked down, seeing the deep teeth mark oozing with warmth. His tongue flicked across his lower lip, savouring the taste of you as he pressed you even deeper onto his cock. A deep, throaty moan escaped him, the sound raw and primal. 

His eyes glinted with a dangerous hunger, and he bit into the underside of your breast once more, drawing another cry from your lips as his cock throbbed insistently against your walls. Instantly, the world flipped, and your back hit the cold floor, the shock sending sparks of mind-numbing pleasure coursing through you. Alastor's every bite left a blazing trail of sensation, a heady mix of sharp pain and bliss. His teeth glistened with crimson, and he began to thrust into you with desperation, each powerful movement sending waves of euphoria radiating from your core. 

It was overwhelming—the way he drilled into you, the way his hips slapped against your clit with a relentless intensity. The wet sound of skin against skin filled the air, mingling with the cacophony of his moans and your cries. Just as he sank his teeth into your other shoulder, you felt a blinding rush of pleasure, a bright flash that took you over the edge. You shattered around him, your body convulsing in waves of pure bliss as he continued to thrust, driving you deeper into ecstasy. 

Sobbing with a mixture of overstimulation and overwhelming emotion, drool trickled from your lips as tears flowed freely down your cheeks. You clung to him, the intense heat of your orgasm washing over you in a torrent. When he finally withdrew, Alastor positioned himself above you, pumping his cock vigorously, each stroke pulling a raw, primal growl from deep within him. The gleaming head of his cock pointed toward you, dripping with unsatisfied lust. 

With a low, guttural sound, he released himself, spurting hot, milky liquid that mingled with the crimson of your blood, swirling together into a beautiful shade of pink. The warmth splattered across your face, your neck, and trickled down the curve of your chest, marking you as his. 

When he finally let go, he gazed down at you with a mix of desire and admiration. “My, how pretty,” he murmured, his voice thick with lust, his eyes glazed and wild with an unquenchable hunger. 

Your heart raced at his words, and you lay still, the remnants of your orgasm still pulsing through you, each throb a reminder of the heat and sting left by his bites and slaps.

You didn’t dare speak as you waited for Alastor to gather himself, bracing for the inevitable moment he would fire you. Instead, he did something entirely unexpected. With a slow, deliberate movement, he traced his cum, now mingled with your blood, transforming into a light pink hue across your bottom lip. The sight sent a shiver down your spine, a mix of fear and something more debased stirring within you. 

He then penetrated your mouth with his finger, the salty, bitter taste flooding your senses. You could taste the metallic tang, and a whisper of disgust escaped your lips as the awful flavour overwhelmed you. 

“I expect to see you tomorrow,” he murmured softly, his gaze locked on your lips, hypnotized as he pistoned his finger in and out of your mouth. Each movement was both gentle and demanding, making you feel utterly exposed. “Perhaps I underestimated your usefulness,” he continued, pressing down on your tongue, forcing you to swallow around him. “If you don’t come, I’ll assume you quit.” 

As he withdrew his fingers, glistening with your saliva, he brought them to his own, licking them clean with a slow, deliberate motion, his eyes boring into yours with an intensity that made your heart race. The way he savoured you, relishing the taste, ignited a forbidden thrill deep within you. 

“Understood,” you managed to say, your voice hoarse yet tinged with submission. The soft addition of “sir” fell from your lips like an offering, and the way his eyes darkened in response sent a jolt of excitement through you. 

His grin stretched wider, a predatory gleam flashing across his features, making you feel like prey caught in the gaze of a hungry predator. You were trapped, utterly captivated by his dominance, and yet there was a part of you that craved it—craved him.

And deep down, you knew you would let him devour you whole, wouldn’t you?

Follow #vexitober 2024 to read my questionable kink/fluff stories!

[bitchin-beskar]

Well, since we're on a Boba kick, let's go with classic Bounty Hunter Boba. You ran away from home before you were sent away to be the mistress of a distasteful Imperial Officer. When Boba finds you, because of course he does, you offer up your charms in exchange for freedom. I feel like at first he'll be all cocky, like you'll need to prove it to him that your ✨️charms✨️ are worth it. But then, once he has a taste, he's hooked...

BESTIE I LOVE HOW YOUR MIND WORKS

your parents are rich, like royalty of a whole system of planets rich. you've always been aware of the fact that you'll be married off to whomever they deem appropriate, and while you don't like it, you also understand that this is just how the galaxy works.

but then, you find out that not only is your husband-to-be an imperial officer, he's had three previous wives, all of whom died under suspicious circumstances. you try to bring this up to your parents, but they won't hear anything of it, already dreaming about the influence they'll be able to wield with their daughter as the wife of an important imperial officer.

you're determined that you won't let this bastard kill you, so you make the brave (or maybe stupid) decision to run away before the wedding.

your parents, being as rich as they are, of course hire the best bounty hunter in the galaxy.

meanwhile, boba is of the impression that this is going to be easy. you're essentially a spoiled princess, running away from home because you don't like the husband mommy and daddy picked out for you. he's seen this all play out before. you're just looking for a bit of a thrill, but soon enough you'll be hanging off your husband's arm, dazzled by the riches and influence he supposedly wields.

but.

slowly, his opinion begins to change. it takes him weeks to find you. he's never had a bounty hide out from him for this long. it's almost impressive, if he weren't so annoyed.

he finally corners you on hoth of all places, and he's completely stunned to see that you've managed to set up a small ice cave, lined with furs you must have skinned and cleaned yourself, and meagre but filling rations. you're wearing surprisingly sensible clothes, warm but also unassuming. you don't have any technology, but you wield a knife with unerring accuracy. you were prepared, that much was obvious. still, you're not formally trained, and boba's the best in the business.

it takes him longer than he'd like to admit to subdue you, and the scuffle ends with you on your back as he straddles your hips, hand pinning yours above your head as he holds a vibroblade to your throat.

"kill me," you whisper, and he once more finds himself caught off guard. "kill me, or keep me for yourself, but don't take me back to him."

he scoffs, the noise doing a poor job of masking of how rattled he is by your request. "not how this works, princess."

but you don't flinch. "either you kill me, keep me, or take me back. and I promise you, if you take me back, I'll take my own life before I let him do it."

boba doesn't want to think about what that means.

he stays quiet, pulling out a pair of cuffs and locking them around your wrists. you sigh, having expected this. he pulls you to your feet and leads you to his ship.

there, he pauses in front of the carbon-freezing unit. you can't see his expression behind his helmet, but you wonder if he's considering your offer.

but, he says nothing, and gestures for you to step into the unit. you close your eyes for a moment, already planning how you'll get access to the poison you need for a swift but painless death once you're delivered to your fiancé.

you step into the carbon-freezing unit, and the world goes dark.

~~~

when you come back to awareness, it's slow and painful. you're dizzy, confused, and you can't see a thing. your hands are no longer bound, so when you feel a firm grip on your shoulders, you instinctively lash out at who you assume is a guard, or your fiancé.

you manage to get a punch in before your wrists are grabbed, and a surprising voice filters in through the fog.

"easy, princess."

you still, eyes searching but unable to see anything.

"f-fett?"

he doesn't respond, but you allow yourself to be moved until you're settled into a seat, the cushion soft beneath your aching legs, sore from the pins and needles rushing up and down every inch of your body.

"give it a minute, princess. let me know when you can see."

it's difficult, just sitting there, vision blank, but slowly, shadows and light begin to filter back in, followed by blurry colors and shapes that slowly form into a clear picture.

the bounty hunter is sitting on a table in front of you, still in most of his armor, which explains the pain in your knuckles, but his helmet is off, revealing a stern expression, though it softens almost imperceptibly when he sees the recognition in your eyes.

"I can see you," you whisper, eyes darting around as you try to make sense of your surroundings. "where am I?"

he lets out a low laugh.

"you gave me three options, princess. remember?"

your mind flashes back to the ice cave, where you'd fought for your life, and been subdued regardless.

"kill me, keep me, or take me back and I'd kill myself."

he nods.

"it'd be a shame to kill such a pretty young thing," he says softly, tone almost mocking. "even bigger shame to let you kill yourself over that piece of bantha shit."

your mind jumps to the third option.

"so," the bounty hunter says, contemplative, with a hint of a challenge. "convince me why I should keep you."

you don't give yourself any time to second guess. you lean forward, hands landing on his broad thighs as you place your lips against his. you nibble lightly on his lower lip, letting your tongue flick out to beg for entrance. he grants it to you, though you can't tell if he's just humoring you or not.

as soon as your tongue brushes against his, he's pulling back, and you worry for a second that you've done something wrong.

but his arm wraps around your waist and yanks you forward so you're perched in his lap, hands flying to his chest to steady yourself. he looks up at you, eyes dark and hungry.

"that's a good start, princess. why don't you see what else you can do to convince me to keep you?"

[nurse-bunnie]

Yeah sure why not. Welcome to my ramblings. Sharps is 141s nurse/medic, because these idiots fucking need one let's be real. Course soap falls hard. Ghost irritably holds his own burning feelings tightly away from himself. He's already let Johnny bury himself into his head, his heart. He can't take more chances, but... it's hard to ignore. Anyway, that's the quick backstory to this angsty thought. Lemme know if you want more Sharps. I have lots of thoughts.

✨️Tw for violence, abuse, abusive behavior, domestic violence, injuries, breakdowns.✨️

Someone, maybe gaz, finding sharps crying alone in a little closed off corner of medbay, trying to clean herself up after getting the shit kicked out of her from her now ex, the bastard. Too many figures cloaked in fatigues and camo get away with the shit they pull, it isn't a secret. This wasn't one. The man had a grip on her that bruised and broke, the slight woman clinging to false coos murmured after rough hands hit, hard words spat, tears spilt.

But now...

Maybe it was Gaz who got in her head, all but begging her to please, please leave him. He, they, would help, that she didn't deserve - "he loves me," a choked whisper. A question. A lie they both knew. He'd crept into that lonely place that held her isolated, quiet and alone for too long.

Before she knew it, Sharps had friends in the form of cheery, blinding smiles and constant kindness, check ins and late nights spent on worn in sofas or creaky wooden chairs, a pot of tea growing cold between conversation. Cigars and spiced tea becoming a soothing aroma, a near pavlovian response that was drawn out when their captians large hand clapped down on a shoulder, the smell of smoke and Chai simmering down the swell of growing anxieties. The hulking, brooding figure haunting just in the background, a silent but firm protector. Ghost, Simon, who Sharps had grown to understand are two very different people; a mask for the quiet, hurting man Ghost kept locked away in a box somewhere deep behind his ribcage. Simon still crept out, clawed his away to the surface like digging out of a grave, all blonde curls and murmured words, dry jokes spoken to a mussed up mohawk through the crackle of comms. It had thrown Sharps off when Simons gentle voice began to dust her poor eardrums with medical quips, clearly pleased with himself when the jokes drew a soft splutter or giggle from split lips. Soon enough, the brit had joined Johnny in leaving an offering or tea, or a sweet on her desk, the medcart, disappearing before she could catch and thank the phantom. It still made her heart swell, and stomach churn in a strange way. Soap had his own way of drawing heat to her cheeks, a flush of pink staining fair skin and causing a flurry of commotion in her chest. John was committed, relentless in his affection and flirting, despite the fact that she was nearly certain Johnny and the LT were more than just partners on the field. And besides, through Sharps didn't have a ring as Soap liked to point out -"ah'll get ya one, one day, bonnie-", she was by all means in a relationship of nearly three years.

A man on base who had caught and snagged her heart those years ago with charming smiles, lips on knuckles, scratchy swrawled notes that proclaimed love, adoration, dedication... She often wracked her brain wondering where it all went wrong. When things had changed from kissed pressed to her hand, to knuckles on her skin, blooming purple over fractured cheekbones, welts and marks placed by the brutality of anger and violence where love once was promised.

The 141 had been gently trying to coax her away from this guy who she's been with for a couple years, prior to being assigned to the chaotic men of the task force. Maybe it was then that the abuse got worse, intensifying in its art.

There was little to no regard to the bruised that pained fair skin, not bothered to be placed hidden. But this? This is what it takes to make her leave, run. Things had gotten bad before, creeping towards the threat of this violent break, but had not crossed the line before tonight. The threats spat at her had always been promises, and she had been stupid not to heed their warning.

So here she stood, pressed into the corner of her own medbay, dark bruising creeping around her throat in the shape of hands that aimed to kill. To finish the promised job.

The sight of them makes Gaz want to be sick.

The purple shade darkening cheekbones, snaking across swollen skin. Tears that run pink, mixing with the mess of blood seeping out from under her hair, hands trembling from where they clutch a stained gauze pad, failing in its attempt to swipe away the evidence of events a mere forty five minutes ago. Too late for Gaz, for anyone to have pried the fingers from her throat, to block punches and kicks. She could still hear the screaming. Choking on the fresh memory, more salt dripped down swollen cheeks, dark hands drifting over hunched shoulders, trembling under the weight of sobs poorly consealed. Sharps felt as if she were breaking apart from the inside out. The tender flesh hidden under skin and bone matching the bruises decorating her body. Finally, they match.

"Kyle -" she didnt know what she was asking for, the mans name falling broken from iron tinged teeth.

Plucking the bloody mess of gauze from her fingers, Gaz tempered down his own distress after a soft, pained noise, Vaguely, sharps managed to realize her fruends shirt was going to bw ruined between tears and crimson that lazily soaked into the fabric, her cheek pressed over a steady heartbeat, a gentle hand over her hair, arms around her sore body.

Finally broken, the woman allowed herself to sag into the comfort that had been wrapped around her, nearly unaware of concerned voices that approached, the rise of concussion drowning out anything but the pain, and Gaz's steady warmth. The white flag of surrender waved, giving way to exhaustion. Footsteps approached, paused, before the lilt of another thicker accent barely registered in her ringing skull, another hand at the small of her back, sticky hair tucked behind her ear. Her own hands clung to the man whose shirt she had ruined, not needing to open her eyes to know it belonged to sergeant Mactavish. Simon would be along any moment now.

Somehow, Sharps was beginning to feel more relaxed than she had in months. The vague memory of close combat training reminding her of the education that had long since been instilled in her. Tension buildup, release, reduction. Everything has to break. Push past that point and things had to begin to wear down and settle. The realization that the abuse was finally over, that the handprints bruised around her neck would never mark her body again, that she had been found this time, that this was not the end of her... story?

Did she have something worth living? Heavy boots registered on the dull floor, a rough voice laced with anger. Maybe. Either way, for the first time in recent history, with iron heavy on her tongue, she wasn't alone. And maybe that could be enough.

[kairiscorner]

I rewatched the Barbie movie again and I must say, it's one of my favorite movies without hesitation, but I came up with an idea for the Spider-Noir 🖤 x Spider-Barbie Reader 💖 and it's this: Do you remember the scene where Barbie goes to the real world and is harassed by men? Well we know that Barbie Reader can hold her own, but I'm pretty sure Spider-Noir wasn't going to let that happen in this scenario, right?

- Crystal ✨️💞

hello again crystal >:)) OHHH MAN HE WOULD NOT LET THEM GET THEIR HANDS ON HER FRRR

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

hands off — spider noir x spider barbie!reader

summary: spider barbie and noir go out and about in town as ordinary people right now—or as normal as normal will allow, because noir is still in spider man mode, and when he is, he does not let a single thing slip from his fingers, especially when it comes to some creeps wanting to get their hands on spider barbie. word count: 562

"wow, peter! this town is very... colorless. colorless, but charming! in a dull kind of way, but it's charming!" barbie remarked with a gleeful smile as she and peter walked hand in hand, looking like complete polar opposites of each others' aesthetics. miss barbie was all decked out in pinks of all shades, with such an elaborate get-up for a sunny day that a lot of people who'd have their eye caught by her would stop and stare at her for a minute, think to themselves: 'does this woman think she's an actual barbie doll or what?' peter, on the other hand, was clad in full on black—as if he were to attend a funeral service, but no, he's just here with miss barbie, going out and about like ordinary people, it was their reward to themselves for tirelessly saving a few universes.

peter chuckled at barbie's comment, agreeing with her that it was kind of boring here in the city, but it was a wonderful day out, he just had to take her to see sights here. but it seemed as though a lot of other people were treated to sights, too, as the couple strolled down the sidewalk. peter couldn't help but feel a little conscious and protective, what with him sensing a lot of men staring down at barbie.

it was at that moment that they both sensed a creep coming close to palm at barbie's behind, and though barbie could've hit him, smacked him on her own—peter instinctively apprehended the guy. he grabbed the arm that was going to inappropriately touch barbie, pulled it way back, and kind of, sort of... broke the guy's arm. peter and barbie's eyes widened as barbie grabbed his hand and ran away. "fucking pervert!" barbie exclaimed as the creep was groaning on the pavement.

"you're not... you're not mad i went a little too far?" peter asked barbie. "oh i'm angry, but you did it for me, so it's a little bit more of 'i wanna kiss you' with a little bit of 'maybe i'll punch you for that later because it wasn't a fair fight because you've got powers', but more on the former!" she exclaimed as peter and barbie ran away from a couple of cops that witnessed the whole thing and were now chasing them down to bring them to a precinct.

peter then had the wonderful idea of quickly donning on his mask,gently holding barbie by the waist and carrying her, and then swinging upward to get them away from the cops. "i don't regret anything from that, though, dearest." he said with a smile as barbie rolled her eyes and moved his mask upward a little and gave him his kiss. peter was flustered for a minute after the kiss, and as a smile formed on his face, barbie threw a punch at him. "like i said, a little bit more of 'i wanna kiss you' with a little bit of 'maybe i'll punch you for that later because it wasn't a fair fight because you've got powers'. but thank you, peter." she said as she planted a kiss on where she punched him. peter chuckled as he took off his mask and put her down. "anytime, love. even if you'd punch me again, i'd beat a million creeps that think you'd be easy."

tags !! @thecoolerdor @sabcandoit @k4tsu3 @fiannee @fictarian @yuridopted0 @luvstarrstruck @maxoloqy @thee-fantastic-mrfox

[icefish-bah]

If it would be possible could we have a detailed pack sourced from the character Jinshi from the anime Apothecary Diaries?

No worries if not !

I don't know him very well, but I vaguely remember watching a few episodes of Apothecary Diaries! You sending this reminded me of it. Now I really wanna go watch it again

I really like Jinshi, most of this is based on Vibes, so I hope this is to your liking!

- 🦐

Detailed Jinshi (Apothecary Diaries) Alter Pack

、Name（s）：Jinshi，Takeo，Zui，Yue，Jinka，Kousen，Kaiji

、Pronouns：he／she／sparkle

、Gender（s）：Sparklegender，Genderfluid（masc lean）

、Orientation（s）：Omnisexual

、Role（s）：Jokestar，Romanticist，Daydream Holder*

、Source （s）：Apothecary Diaries

、Likes：Relaxing，Teasing people，Being pampered，Baths and bath bombs，Dressing up

、Dislikes：People who don't think he's pretty，Getting dirty，Being wrong

、Personality：sparkle acts serene and humble, putting on a display of grace for the public. In private, he lets her mask fall to reveal a more childish nature. Sparkle often uses her natural looks and charm to get his way.

、Hobbies/interests：Reading，Makeup，Fashion

、Kintypes：Swan kin

、Music taste：Jpop

、Typing quirks：Adds "✨️" for emphasis

、Positive triggers：Glitter，Dressing fashionably，Lounging in bed，Self indulgence

、Negative triggers：Being insulted，Meltdowns，Being sick

、Species：Human

、Appearance：Jinshi from Apothecary Diaries

、Aesthetics：Sparklecore

、Signoff（s）：✨️，🌌，🌟

、Stimboard：

*Daydream Holder is for those with Maldaptive Daydreaming, if you don't have MaDD, he probably won't have this role in your system

[wisterias-in-bloom]

A little more about me. Answering these lovely questions as I go.

Honestly I know I'm lonely so I'm doing it MY way✨️❣️

glance: At first glance, what stands out most about your OC's appearance? What's their distinguishing feature?

I supposs the first thing everyone notices are my eyes, I can't deny they are quite intimidating. I've been told in the past that looking into them gives the impression that I might be haunted. Can't deny either.

My most distinguishing feature, you say? It must be my right arm. The virtiligo is no longer easy to hide, and there's no product that would make it any less obvious, and since I can't rely on my shapechanging abilities, due to this annoying worm, it can easily make me recognizable, unlike other changelings.

face: Describe your OC's face. What's their smile like? Are their orbs cerulean? What would someone notice first when looking at them?

If I see someone else referring to my eyes as cerulean I swear on Lathander's light you'll meet the wild magic😒✨️

At first sight, I might look... intimidating. I have a fairly sharp jaw, a very skinny face, completely black eyes, like a void, skin white like paper, and I don't smile - unless.. a certain vampire smiles at me first. I have very long hair, both because I never cut them, and because in my last adventure the wild magic had it's course, so now I have obnoxiously long hair that I keep in a braid during the day.

As far as my face goes, the most obvious thing it's the eyes, as I mentioned above. I quite like them, but others don't agree.

stature: What's your OC's body type? How tall are they? Do they wear clothing to accentuate their look or do they try to mask it?

I'm on the lean side of the spectrum of skinny, I do have a quite impressive constitution, though my main focus is mostly agility, so my muscles are not necessarily obvious. I have a fairly small waist and broad shoulders. I'm not tall, I think at best I can be around 160cm?

I make sure I'm always showcasing my good features to distract from the bad ones, and of course since I strive to be charming, I can't overlook the detail, right?

motion: How does your OC move? How does their clothing help or hinder their range of motion? Are they flexible, coordinated, clumsy?

My clothes are tailored specifically so I can be as functional as possible, I might be unlucky, but at least I'm quick, flexible and coordinate.

Let's say I'm clumsy only when it's about.. fangs.

stillness: How does your OC act while still? Are they fidgety? Do they have any common gestures or tics? Does their clothing affect how they hold themselves while at rest?

I am usually quite still I suppose, I figet a lot with my nails though, or my hair. I clasp my hands a lot while talking. My clothes don't interfere with my resting, though I don't sleep in the button up and leather pants, I've got some decorum.

canvas: Does your OC have any scars, piercings, tattoos, or other markings? Do they display or cover them up at all?

I have a lot of scars sadly, the most visible one is the scar that goes through my right eye, but my back is basically covered in old whip burns that never healed properly, several knife wounds collected over the years. On the chest there's a wound shaped almost round that I got when I died and I got brought back once before arriving in Faerun- which by the way I don't suggest anyone to experience.

[helslastangel]

Hello muffins 🧁 ✨️

I'm still recovering, but things have improved in the last 6-7 months. I'm finishing up those astro series and brainstorming new directions to go with this blog.

I've learned my lesson with overly-specific promises so all I'll say is, thank you to those who have had to watch me reblog 1000 things a day for half a year with barely a meaningful post of contribution from me as a content creator. As I always say, I'm at the mercy of my mind sometimes. But I'm back, for now.

Also...I'd like to announce...

I've also realized that I need variety to stay motivated. LOL. But we knew this. Yesterday, I posted Episode 1 of a fiction series called Veron.

Here's the synopsis and character charts, in case you're interested in following my other blog, @antih3roine, for weekly posts of each part.

Synopsis

✨️ The dark is hungry...and so is she. ✨️

They say the streets don’t love nobody. The basement? Even less.

Veron’s body is breaking down, and her hope died two winters ago. Homeless and alone, she’s ready to let the storm take her.

That is, until she crawls through a broken window and into a basement that should’ve been empty.

But something else lives down there.

Something that speaks in shadows and feeds on breath.

And he’s been waiting a long, long time.

Now, the girl who wanted to disappear has a choice: run from the darkness...

Or talk to it.

Either way, she's not leaving the same.

A gritty, slow-burn supernatural serial about survival, identity, and strange companionship beneath the city.

Characters

(Spoiler-Free)

Veron

Veron is the kind of person who makes silence feel louder. Cunning, reserved, and impossible to pin down, she operates in the blurred lines between moral high ground and practical necessity. Veron doesn't just keep secrets. She IS a secret, wrapped in impeccable tailoring and a reputation that precedes her. Known for her sharp intuition and even sharper tongue, Veron navigates the world with a calm detachment that unnerves allies and enemies alike. She rarely speaks first, but when she does, it’s with surgical precision.

MBTI: INTJ 8w9 (The Strategist)

Human Design: Projector (Waits to be recognized before acting)

Alignment: True Neutral with Lawful leanings

Aesthetic: Dark academia meets cybernoir; velvet blazers, worn books, steel knives hidden in leather-bound journals

Quirks: Collects outdated currencies, always writes in fountain pen, allergic to sentimentality (and daisies)

𓆩♡𓆪

Marwan

Marwan is the storm Veron refuses to forecast. Charismatic, impulsive, and unapologetically bold, he walks into a room like it owes him something... and leaves with more than he came for. Despite his easy grin and high-octane energy, there's a steel core beneath the charm, forged by experience and betrayal. Marwan thrives in chaos, often appearing reckless to outsiders, but his unpredictability masks a calculating mind. He’s the type to throw the rulebook out the window… after reading it twice and setting it on fire.

MBTI: ENFP 7w8 (The Trailblazer)

Human Design: Manifesting Generator (Fast starts, faster pivots)

Alignment: Chaotic Good

Aesthetic: Street mystic with a dash of desert punk; gold chains, combat boots, henna tattoos, laughter echoing off rooftops

Quirks: Talks to animals like they’re old friends, refuses to use maps, has a lucky coin he flips before any big decision

---

Episode 1 is live on @antih3roine.

See you there? 🐈‍⬛️

[noahsbookhoard]

📚July 2024 Book Review (Part 3/3)📚

We were that close to have a cover coordinated trio of book this time, I failed you... This batch is completely mismatched in every way, even my opinion of the book.

House of Hollow by Krystal Sutherland

Grey, Vivi and Iris are three wierd sisters: since their disappearance for a month when they were little they have silver hair, a ravenous appetit, strange powers of attraction, and a half-moon scar on the throat. When Grey, the eldest, disappear again and a strange man in a bull mask starts hunting Iris, her and her sister Vivi will go looking for Grey as well as answers to what really happened to them when they vanished 8 years ago.

This novel was the July random draw at my book club and a very pleasant surprise! I was worried at first: it felt like the YA novel cliché with witchy vibes and a 17 year old protagonist who is ✨️not like other girls✨️. I was bracing for a high school setting and teenagers being The Worst and I really didn't want to read that.

However it quickly evolves into a search for answers, almost a treasure hunt if it wasn't for the dark and gloomy atmosphere. This is what really elevates the book: it has a very rich and vivid ambiance, including with smells and a recurring theme of decay and fire and wet wood.

The mystery also is a plus point: there're a lot of question, you feel like they are all linked but at first you don't know how and as the story unfurls answers come and they are more terrible as you go deeper. A small disappointment however: not everything is answered in the end, there are things left open that could have been said more explicitly. And one big plot holes that was quick frustrating.

The characters were really interesting, especially the sisters: they are all described as very alike in appearance and extraordinarily beautiful, but they don't live it the same way: Grey is a model, using her charm for her work, Vivi is the punk musician doing her best to make herself look unattractive and Iris is just a high-school kid trying to blend in. They also have very different relationships with their mother and although it doesn't evolve much (except Iris, she gets most of the character growth) the book reveals the reason behind those differences and it is really nice to discover more about them by touch: some present events will brings back Iris' childhood memories and this build up to give us a complete picture.

This was a really nice discovery and not at all the Fantasy YA novel it was advertised as. It veers slightly toward the horror genre (TW for child death and dome body horror) with interesting characters and a very well written atmosphere. I highly recommend it!

Blanche Neige et les lances-missiles by Catherine Dufour

Trouble in Fairyland: The ghost of Bill Guette decided to get revenge, and to that end turned God and the Devil into alcoholics. Without guidance, angels and demons have be running havoc. Classic Fairy Tale character bereft of their happy ending meet and try has much as possible to find out what is going on and how to avoid the worst of it.

When you pick a book just because the title is funny you might end up reading the most insightful book of your life or the derpiest wierdest shit ever; somehow this book is both. The title means "Snow White and the missile lanchers", yes this is plot relevant.

This is a fairy tale parody mashup on steroids: Sleeping Beauty almost married demon, Donkeyskin falls in love with Cinderella's prince, Red Riding Hood is a neurotic mess nicknamed "Jacket-Shut up" and Snow White is a tyran with a large military arsenal and the eagerness to use it. Apart from that it's kinda hard to sum up the plot, it's quite disjointed and takes a lot of time to get to the point. Each character has an arc but the story with Bill Guette comes up really late in the book. Once it is there however, the individual character's storylines blur and that's when I gave up on global comprehension.

The style however is consistent and really good, if peculiar. Catherine Dufour has something of Terry Pratchett in the use of fantasy to underline the satire, in the humour a little too. There is a lot of puns and hidden references in the character and location names. But there's more vulgarity and, well, warfare equipment.

I honestly don't know if I liked it. By the end I was sincerely too baffled to say and now, several month later, I remember it as if I had read it seven years ago in a language I wasn't fluent in. It is just plain wierd.

The Lord of the Flies by William Golding

After being stranded on a desert island without any adults, a group of boys has to find means to survive. It gets trickier when two clans form among the children, with conflit emerging around leadership, beliefs and rituals.

I read this book in 6th grade. I remember liking it but now I found it kinda boring? Is it being now on the adult's side of the story rather than the child's?

I don't know what would happen if you had a pack of children left to their own devices for an extended period of time and that's not really a renewable experience* but I hope they wouldn't get to murder that quickly (that being said I don't know how long the plot last, it isn't said). I don't know if 13 year olds would also fall into superstition and create a cult as quickly as in the book but kids are wierd sometimes.

*The Wikipedia page of the book informs me that apparently something similar DID happen in 1965, ten years after the book was published: teenagers were stranded for 15 months and survived by creating a functional and globally peaceful society.

What I found bizarre too is the image the author has of the kids: they are all undisciplined and unreasonable. The younger ones have an attention span of 15 minutes and the older ones are violent to the point of murder. It sounds an awful lot like a venting fanfiction of a teacher that can't kill his students but write about it to take the edge of... And Golding was a teacher so that checks out!

Still a classic, I think a lot of kids read it at school but it did not age as well as in my memories.

[icarus-does-fall]

MY FIXATIONS HAVE COLIDED >:]

Gonna be Gen1 characters btw yes it said dolls but that means effort and not memory and eh

Alr alr (a lot of this is personality based ngl)

Soap- HEATH BURNS he's flirty, loud, waayyy too cocky for his own good BUT he's also protective and does his best to always be helpful

Ghost- hear me out (yeah he's a guy whatever) But TWYLA!! She's not very outspoken but she has a lot of great oneliners and when she's with friends she's more open and always sneaky too lmao- TELL ME that's not our Simon Riley

Ghost pt2- IF you're gonna be picky and want a guy character SETH PTOLEMY mfer legit hides behind a mask until he finds people he trusts with his secrets and with them he gets to be himself

Gaz- CLAWD WOLF ISTG man is dedicated and loyal and I love him, he's a cuddle bug imo

Roach- GILL WEBBER- our boy is under appreciated and not talked about enough, gill has some major sass behind all his nervous and pacifist behaviours

Price- HEXICHIAH STEAM, daddy?? Sorry- he's big and wears a stupid hat and has that same bushy ass facial hair he's so fiercely protective amd would shoot someone to save his loved ones lmao

Laswell- NORA BLOODGOOD, the epitome of ✨️has braincells✨️ sure she gets frazzled occasionally when things insane happen but the girl adjusts and saves the day all the time

Laswell pt2- BATSY CLARO, hot tempered, no bullshit, would cut someone if they possed her off (woudl later apologise for losing her temper) the conversational niceties are zero with her, it's tell her what you mean when you mean it or shut up

Nik- JOHNNY SPIRT, replace music expert with weapons and its Nik I promise you it's nik

Graves- ROMULUS, he's egotistical (pack life yada yada) Graves just screams ✨️American✨️ not to mention man can hold a grudge buuuuut in 13 wishes? He gets all shy and flustered too so he's not always an ass

König- ANDY BEAST, he's big, he's got anxieties, buuut mfer knows how to use his size

Keegan- KIERAN VALENTINE, keeg just screams playboy heartbreaker ong, not to mention just a fantastic flirt, like man just oozes charm

(kieran was supposed to be gay😭😭😭😭)

Sarah Leary- TORALEI STRIPE, she's bold and bossy and extremely independent, will fuck you up over missing reports

Alejandro- SPELLDON CAULDRONELLO, okay okay so sue me, spelldon is only mentioned in the dairies, he's not in a movie or book or whatever BUT I don't care 🥰 he made Kieran crush hard, and if you think our lil drug boy couldn't make a playboy stop his ways yall trippin

Valeria- NEFERA DE NILE (celos older sister) scary sassy bold lesbain

Rudy- DEUCE GORGON he's playful sassy sporty, can kill you with a look, hides the things he enjoys the most cause insecurities it just makes sense

Abigail- ABBEY BOMINABLE (yeah yeah same name shut up) it's the vibes yaknow?? The straightforwardness, flirty in her own type of way (Abigail has like.... a million brother I think, you know girl can't flirt properly)

Alex- NEIGTHAN ROT he's his own type of guy and loves the opportunity to do his own thing while fighting for whats right, loves to help others whenever he cam cause bro is goal oriented

Alex pt2- Also could be that French mfer GARROT smth or other, will pick a fight if you gonna try and prove he's bad at smth, will move across the world just cause he misses you, cannot do smth but tries to anyway

Uhhhhhh... I know there's more but it's like 2am and 🤷‍♂️ I can only do so much and yes some of the explanations are half-assed, im eepy okay??

Honorable mentions of my favorite characters:

Bonita Femur (she's a moth love her lmao)

Operetta

VENUS MCFLYTRAP (love her new design ngl)

Vandala Doubllons(?) (Fucking ghost pirate hello???)

Rochelle Goyle

HONEY SWAMP (she was so pretty😭😭)

Victor (he was so twink coded lmao)

Bitches, lets talk, seriously now

what kind of Monster High doll do you think the COD men and girlies would be? I need a presentation on your reasons for the doll and the character...