#do I have enough self control to leave this in drafts?

[sftandwet]

⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀OLDER LEON! HEADCANONS

content warning oral sex, older boyfriend leon!au, leon death island, insecurity, smut, pwp, slut and "egocentric" leon. +18! MDNI

author's notes : I wanted to do this for a while, but as I was having creative block I was disappointed looking at the drafts. I was happy when I suddenly wrote something lol until I was happy with the result. I wanted to make a somewhat contradictory Leon, "raw" the way I see him.

links 4 u. masterlist 🥩 movie star

older leon: who picks you up and leaves you regardless of where you need to go, is always at your disposal, even if there is still work to be done, leon tries his best to take you wherever you want to go.

older leon: who, even with excruciating work to do, tries everything to be present in your life, even with minimal contacts, is always showing that he is there, by your side.

older leon: who is constantly afraid that you will abandon him, always hoping that you are loving him enough to leave other people aside. He desperately hopes that you don't find anyone more interesting than him, because he couldn't stand a second away from you. Extremely insecure, but always hiding this painful trait from you.

older leon: who loves doing "cheesy" things with you; from cooking with you, mugs, watching a ridiculous show, wearing weird shirts with bizarre and funny combinations, because it all sounds romantic or as leon says; "That's something a couple would do." He loves to talk about cheesy couple things with you, because regardless, what matters is being happy with you.

older leon: : who loves kissing you slowly while gently placing his hand on your neck, slowly slipping his tongue into your mouth. His hand slowly slides over your shoulders and fixes it on your waist, keeping you glued to his body during the kiss, always ending with a soft bite and a wet kiss on your neck.

older leon: who sometimes can't control herself and ends up lowering her lips to her lap, taking off the straps of her dress and lowering the fabric to expose her breasts, sucking them while putting his hands on her back to lick her breasts better, biting and giving licks that make you close your eyes in anxiety.

older leon: He kneels on the floor, pushes you against the wall and pulls up your dress, putting your panties to the side and placing your leg over his broad shoulders. He sticks his hot tongue into your wet hole, massaging your clit with his thumb over and over, making slow circles and making sure to suck it well to get it wet, making your body arch beneath the cold wall.

older leon: who is addicted to your pussy, always fucking you, making you even wetter to stick his fingers in while he mistreats your clitoris with strong sucks, always scratching your ass, trying to dive into your pussy, rubbing that nose on your pleasure point, taking and putting his tongue inside you. Smearing yourself, without paying attention to the cum that drips down your chin.

older leon: who loves to make a mess while fucking you, who loves to see you scream and is self-centered when he sucks your cunt, knowing that no one else will suck your pussy the way he does.

[lostgirlmuseum]

Who the Hell is Daryl?

Summary: Bucky is in love with you, and finally finds the courage to tell you. But what happens when it sounds like someone else is already in the picture? (Miscommunication!)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x f!Avenger!Reader

Words: 2k

Warnings: Miscommunication trope! Only one small mention of “Y/N”, teensy bit of yelling, let me know if I missed anything.

A/N: Wrote this a couple days ago and put it in drafts, spontaneously posted bc I'm procrastinating on an essay. Okay I'll get back to hw now :(

Dividers: @firefly-graphics

He was going to do it. He was really going to do it. 

He was finally going to ask you out.

-----

To the surprise of everyone on the team, you and Bucky had become fast pals after you joined six months ago. Something about the two of you clicked. ‘Opposites attract’ and all that, but Bucky always felt it went deeper than that.

The two of you had never argued, something he felt very proud of, considering he argued with most people. But not you. Never you.

The moment he decided that he needed to man up and ask you out wasn’t anything fancy. You were sparring with Wanda across the gym, and he was simply watching you work in tandem. He watched the entire 15 minute session, and didn’t take his eyes off you, even as you approached him. 

“Buck, I’m out of water, can I take a sip of yours?”

He nodded, “Sure, Doll,” and tossed you his bottle. 

You shot him a charming smile and opened the cap, and not-so-gracefully chugged half the bottle. You wiped your upper lip and handed it back to him. 

“Thanks, Jamie,” you breathily said, and jogged back to the arena. 

His head was completely empty except for a single thought, tumbling through his desert mind like a tumbleweed.

I’m going to marry her someday.

He shocked himself with the thought, he wasn’t sure where it had come from. But he couldn’t help the grin that snuck its way onto his lips as he realized he didn’t disagree with the thought.

Of course before marriage is dating. One step at a time Buck. 

After his realization, he had spent the next three days planning the perfect way to ask you out. He went through an entire list of ideas, but none of them seemed good enough for you. He wanted it to be perfect. But as the clock ticked on and he started running out of paper, he realized it was best to just be honest about his feelings. 

You had just gotten back from a solo mission, and Bucky was hanging out in your room as you showered.

He was blushing like an idiot and fidgeting like crazy on your bed as he waited for you to hurry up. It was surprising he had so much self control as to not blurt it out while you were showering.

“Oh, Bucky,” you called from the bathroom, the sound of the water pausing.

“What’s up?”

“Could you set an alarm on my phone for 7:30 A.M. tomorrow before I forget? I think I left it on the side table.”

“You got it, Doll.”

“You’re the best! I’m almost done, I’ll be out in like two minutes,” you called, and soon after the sound of rushing water resumed.

Bucky grabbed your phone and typed in the passcode, his heart fluttering a little as he thought about how you trusted him enough to know it.

But the flutter stopped almost as quickly as it started, the moment your phone turned on and resumed on your text string with someone. He would’ve ignored it, but a red heart at the top of the screen caught his eye.

Who the hell is “Daryl,” and why does he have a heart emoji next to his name?

Bucky couldn’t help himself as his eyes flitted over your last texts.

Daryl ❤️ I’m back in town, lemme know when you’re around 

You About to leave for a quick mission, but I’ll be back tmw evening. I miss you sm :( how about we meet up Monday morning at 8 at Bernie’s cafe?

Daryl ❤️ Lets do it. And I miss you too, can’t wait to see your beautiful face!! I love you, be careful

You Love you too, and Im always careful 😘

Bucky felt sick to his stomach. You had never mentioned a brother named Daryl, or any other kind of family member. And you’d told him about all your closest friends, and none of them were named Daryl. How did Bucky not know you had a boyfriend?

Bucky fought the urge to scroll up, and quickly tapped out of the app, and set the alarm you asked him to set. 

So you were meeting this “Daryl” tomorrow morning?

Bucky heard the water stop, and the sound of the shower curtain shuffling.

Shit. You were getting out. Fuck, he wasn’t ready to face you.

You’d never mentioned you were in a relationship before. He would remember. How long have you been dating? And more importantly, why did you keep this from him? Did you feel like you couldn’t trust him? Maybe you weren’t as close friends as he’d thought.

“Which movie did you want to watch tonight?” You asked, peeking out of the door with a turquoise towel wrapped around you.

“Um, I’m actually really tired, suddenly. I think I’m going to go to bed.” Bucky stuttered, avoiding your gaze as he quickly stood up.

“Oh, okay,” you responded, disappointment and concern lacing your voice. “Everything okay?”

“Everything is fine. Glad you got back safe. Good night.”

With that, Bucky ducked out of your room and practically ran back to his.

Bucky tossed and turned, and once he got over his embarrassment, he settled into a familiar depressive feeling. Of course you didn’t like him back. What the fuck was he thinking? He’s—well, he’s Bucky. Broken, only destined to ever be your friend. How could he be foolish enough to think you would love him like he loves you. At about hour 4, the heartbreak started turning into betrayal. Betrayal that you kept this from him. And soon enough, that betrayal festered into a kind of resentment, something he’d never felt for you before.

He didn’t get much sleep that night.

Bucky checked the clock for the 20th time in the past 5 minutes. 7:45 A.M. You were probably about to leave. Bucky felt his heart clench. He was usually up by 7, and eating breakfast in the common area by 7:30. He sat at the barstool, dragging his spoon around his now soggy Coco Puffs, waiting for you to appear. Why he felt the need to torture himself, he didn’t know.

Finally, he heard your steps coming down the hall. 

And there you appeared, wearing the most beautiful sundress he had ever seen. It was lavender, and had small white flowers adorning the skirt, and it fell just above your knees. 

Bucky took you in, and his momentary adoration turned back to his heartbreak. You were dressed up as if you were going on a date. There was no chance this wasn’t your boyfriend.

“Good morning Bucky, did you sleep okay last night?” 

“Yes.” He lied. Maybe you would tell him the truth if he asked. Yes it would hurt hearing the truth from your mouth, but he wanted to give you a chance to tell him your secret. “Where are you headed?”

“To meet a friend,” you nodded smoothly. 

Maybe Bucky was crazy. Maybe he was overthinking all of this. Maybe Daryl really was just a friend.

“Which friend?”

“Penny.”

So you were just flat out lying to him now. Bucky nodded and waited for you to leave before moping back to his room. He wanted to cry. And he did for a minute, or two, but his tears turned from sad to angry when he remembered you were now lying. You never lied to Bucky, and Bucky never lied to you. At least, he thought that was how it was. He clenched his fists, mad at you for betraying him, but more mad at himself for believing he could ever have you.

He didn’t move from his bed.

“Bucky?” Your voice emerged after three knocks to his door.

He couldn’t get himself to respond. 

The door slowly creaked open, a stream of light flooding his dark room.

“Hey Buck. You okay? You seemed a little off this morning.”

“Fine.” He mumbled, not turning over in bed to face you.

A pause. 

“Jamie, what’s wrong?” You asked, closing the door behind you and flicking on the light. 

“Don’t call me that.”

“What?” You asked, slightly taken aback. You thought he loved your affectionate nickname for him.

“I don’t want you to call me ‘Jamie’ anymore.”

“Okay…”

He felt the bed dip as you sat next to him. 

“Bucky,” you whispered, “please talk to me.”

He sat up and gave you a pointed look. Was he being immature? Yes. But what could he do, he just discovered that his best friend has been lying to him, and doesn’t love him.

“Where were you?” He asked.

You furrowed your brows a moment, trying to piece together where he was going with this. 

“I was at Bernie’s with Penny.”

“Don’t lie to me.” He sneered.

Your eyes widened at his bite.

“I’m not lying? Bucky, what is going on?”

“What’s going on is that you’ve been keeping the fact that you have a boyfriend from me. Why don’t you want to tell me?”

“A boyfriend?” You blinked. “I don’t have a boyfriend,”

“Why won’t you be honest with me?” He yelled, and you scooted back.

“I am!”

“Then who is Daryl?”

“What?”

“I saw your texts last night, when you asked me to set your alarm.” Bucky looked down at his lap, ashamed.

“Bucky,” you sighed, and a look of understanding crossed your face. A moment later you held out your phone to him.

“What?” He asked, dumbly looking at your outstretched hand. The screen was on your text string with Daryl.

“Call the number.” You simply said.

“What?” He repeated.

“Take my phone, and call the number.”

Confused and suspicious, Bucky grabbed your phone and hesitated over the call icon. 

“Go ahead,” you urged.

He pressed the button. 

Ring.

Ring.

Ri—

“Hey!” A familiar feminine voice rang through the speaker. “What’s up hon?”

“Hello?” Bucky said, looking from the phone to you to the phone.

“Uh, hi? Is that Bucky?”

“P—Penny?” He sputtered.

“Hey Bucky! What’s up, is everything okay? I thought Y/N was calling.”

“Hey Pen,” you interjected, “Everything’s fine, I’ll call you back in a bit, kay’?”

“Sure thing, bye, love ya,” Penny added, and hung up.

Bucky stared at the now blank phone, baffled.

“I don’t understand.”

“Bucky,” you sighed, and tilted his chin to look at you. “I don’t have a boyfriend. Penny is in my contacts as “Daryl” because it’s my funny little nickname for her. My Dad has had a best friend since grade school named Daryl, and they don’t see each other often, but when they do it’s like nothing has changed. They get along like no time has passed. I call Penny “my Daryl” because I know that even if we don’t talk for years, we are so close that I know we would be the exact same.”

Bucky sat quietly for a moment, simply taking in your story. He felt really stupid.

“I’m sorry,” he started, “I shouldn’t have yelled at you. I’m sorry I called you a liar.” He struggled to meet your gaze, ashamed of what he did.

“Jamie—can I call you Jamie now?”

He nodded sheepishly.

“Jamie, I forgive you. But I wish you had just talked to me about it, and asked me. We are usually so good about being open with each other. What happened?” You asked, wide eyes looking into his.

“I know, I’m sorry. I flipped out, I guess I was just shocked, because I was going to—” he licked his lips, “well, I was…”

“You can tell me, Bucky. Honesty, remember?” You soothed, placing your hand on his leg.

He gulped.

“I was going to ask you to be with me.”

You tilted your head, not quite understanding.

“Like, I was gonna ask if you’d let me be your boyfriend.” He mumbled. “So when I saw that you were texting and saying ‘I love you’ to some guy, I guess I was just blindsided.”

“James,” you smiled, moving yourself to sit on his lap. You brought your forehead against his. “You silly, jealous man.” You gently stroked his cheek with your right hand. “You want to be my boyfriend?"

"It sounds so juvenile, I don't know, I just want you to be mine, and for you to call me 'yours,'" he mumbled.

"I accept," you giggled, and watched his glittering eyes shoot to yours.

He had started to say something, but he stopped when you brought your soft lips to his.

“I'm so happy,” he whispered between kisses.

Suffice it to say, Bucky completed step one of the path to marrying you.

A/N: Tysm for reading! If you liked it, please feel free to let me know!

Also I'm sorry if the ending sucks, I wrote this in a couple hours and Idk why I'm so bad at endings gahh

Here's my Masterlist if you'd like to read more!

[ronearoundblindly]

okey dokey, I've had *a day* and will use this glorious...🥴 idek which body part to reference 😮‍💨...and merge it with your previous ask about cooking or baking for Steve and giving him a nice, comforting, home cooked meal. And his response to that act of service and caring. Because this is me, I will obviously be starting with ::gasp:: an argument. Don't you love how predictable I am?!?!

To Tire Is Human

No warnings, uhhh, canon language (sh*t)? Written in drafts so no exact word count. It's not long (2k maybe, very much unedited)!

"The hustle? What does that even mean?" Steve gripes as he finishes up various chores around the property.

"It means I do the work."

Your boyfriend rips apart the wood log he was about to start chopping. "Do the work? Do the work? For nine hours? After leaving home early enough to be at work for an hour before the actual work starts? Then staying at least a half hour to clean?"

"Unless I also have to restock," you add quickly just to really turn the knife.

"You have got to be shitting me," he nearly snarls, eyes down toward the pile.

You don't blame him for not understanding. He's from an era where people worked to live, the point was the living. This...is not longer that era, and you are not of that generation.

Of course, it frustrates him, too, because your work makes living almost impossible. With all that he just mentioned, the commute, and attempting to offer yourself the basic self-care of eating and washing, you don't have the energy to do chores, and you've certainly struggled to find energy enough to show Steve love.

"That's the gig nowadays. That's how us super-average humans do it."

The thing is that you are also so tired of having this conversation. You are tired of the guilt for not magically considering yourself the center of your universe because, despite jokes about every kid receiving participation trophies, it is deeply engrained in you that you are replaceable.

If you don't perform above and beyond, fired. If you ask for too much and offer too little, gone. If you don't constantly learn how to outpace others, useless. It never ends.

And, finally, Steve Rogers might not get this but you age. You aren't powerful to begin with, but day after day, you get weaker and older, while someone else on Earth gets smarter and stronger.

You don't want to hear the spiel. You can see from his pinched face that Steve wants to give the spiel.

You sigh in exhaustion and prepare to hear the whole Cap speech before you two go pick up dinner in town.

One day later that week, your work schedule falls apart and lands you back at home hours before Steve is due to return. Antsy to accomplish something--and looking for a snack,--you notice the perfect combination of ingredients, something saucy and salty, hearty, just like Steve melts for, and a fruity baked good.

It's a lot of steps, there's a lot of mess to clean up as you go, and then there's still a lot left behind. You're hastily rushing around to set the oven timer and yank a skillet off the burner. Perhaps the whole endeavor has gotten you in over your head.

Steve appears out of nowhere.

Well. Not nowhere, but all the chaos in the kitchen is making enough noise, you didn't hear the door.

"I have everything under control," you automatically say.

His expression morphs from one of surprise and concern to utterly overwhelmed. His eyes look glassy as he approaches and scoops you into a quick hug, hands tucking themselves beneath the hem of your shirt so he can feel your skin as he breathes you in.

He quickly releases you at the sounds of oil popping and sniffs, reverting to Cap mode.

"What do you need? What can I do?"

All you can think is that the table hasn't been set.

Steve eats his whole meal--entree and dessert--with his non-dominant hand just so he can hold yours.

He had one of your days.

He spent the drive home listing all the things he needed to do in his head, more energy for each tick, more time for sitting still, more of him to give...

...and then he got to enjoy a lovely dinner with you.

You spent your energy on him, on you both. You spent energy specifically to spend time with him, and Steve could cry but he won't. He keeps smiling, making happy, pleased noises with each delicious bite.

An hour ago, he wasn't sure he could feed himself or wash up. He's simply too tired.

You start playing with his hand, drawing patterns in his palm, lightly dragging your nails on the sensitive inside of his wrist. It makes him shiver.

There were at least four things he was supposed to do outside before it got too dark, a load of towels and sheets needs done, a basket of clothes waits to be folded and put away. He does not want to do any of it.

His fingers close around yours.

"Thank you," he interjects softly, "I was so tired."

You lean forward and plant a sweet kiss on his cheek, whispering in his ear, "you wanna leave the dishes to soak and watch a movie instead?"

Steve chuckles, turns his head to quickly kiss your lips, and nuzzles his nose to yours.

"Oh, you're a naughty minx, aren't you?"

Playfully racing up the stairs, ignoring the plates and glasses still on the table, you call back to him.

"Show some hustle, big guy! We got a whole lot of nothing to do."

He twitches, just for an instant, before finally deciding that grabbing the spare pillows from the guest room will add more to the movie experience than doing the dishes.

You're both going to do the work tonight: the work of taking care of each other, enjoying each other, and being human together.

Thank you for asking!

[Main Masterlist; Light Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

[e-hibiscus]

Pairing: Rahu x reader

Warnings: NSFW, Transfem!Rahu, oral

Author’s Note: Rushed & not proof read| not uber happy with it, but i just wanted it out of my drafts

Minors DNI! | NSFW! under the cut

﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊

Desperate. That would be one way to describe the expression etched onto Rahu’s face at this moment. Her unwavering loyalty and desire to heed your command have left her utterly helpless to your actions as she hasn’t been given the order to move– to even touch you. Each action you took was with deliberate care, riling up the sinner to the point where she’d like nothing more than to grab your hips, flip you over, and ravish your body in the only way she knows how. Well and deep, until her cock molds itself into the velvety walls of your pussy. However, now there’s little she could do.

It was taking every ounce of self-restraint to exhibit her self-control as your hands start wandering down, unblucking her belt while planting soft kisses along her neck, collarbone, and chest. You’ve long since removed the offending piece of clothing. Leaving her top exposed and sculpted body out for display for you to worship. For only you to touch.

You have yet to go further in freeing her erection. Her cock remains in the confines of her pants, straining against the material while shifting around in hopes to get some stimulation. She’s left desperate and needy in your hold.

Rahu hasn’t been able to see for the past half-hour. Her discarded tie acts as her make-shift blindfold, though not tight, remains fastened over her eyes. She could feel every little sensation as she was left seated at the edge of the bed with you sitting upon her lap.

Your hand presses down on the aching bulge in her pants. The breathy whine escaping Rahu’s lips is loud despite the muffling from her mask. The way her chest quickens with its rise and fall shows how hard she’s trying to hold back. Knuckles white, Rahu grips the sheets to maintain control. It doesn’t help that she can feel the dampness of your core staining her pants as you continuously ride her thigh instead of using her throbbing cock.

“Poor puppy, you’re getting so worked up.” Your words came out breathlessly beside her ear causing the woman beneath you to shudder. Your hand grips onto Rahu’s chin, tilting it to the side so your lips can meet the sensitive skin of her neck.

The way your lips feel on her skin was like fire. Rahu lets out a muffled groan as your teeth lightly nipped at her pulse point. Gods, how much willpower Rahu is using just to simply stay put. The mere seconds you were by her neck felt excruciatingly long, but Rahu could do nothing more but let out a shaky breath lest she loses control.

She wants nothing more than to rip off the blindfold so she could see your face. The pure bliss that crossed your face as your hips glide along the material on her thigh. Rahu could hear how your voice tapers higher as you’re just about to cum. The sinner can only imagine your face. How your eyes roll into the back of your skull as you cum with your hands clinging to her body.

Why did you have to cover her eyes? Rahu doesn’t understand. She was being good, wasn’t she?

Once you pull away, freeing her cock from the confines of her pants and boxers, you can see how hard she has become. How much of a mess Rahu is reduced to.

Your hand glides along her shaft, fingers ghosting over the tip before collecting the liquid there and pumping it along the entire length of Rahu’s cock. Your touch in general felt like fire, but in a good way. Warm enough for her to want to lean into your touch yet too much at the same time. This has her moaning shamefully, much to Rahu’s own embarrassment.

Pride blossoms in your chest seeing Rahu unravel in such a way. Gradually, you’re chipping away at her control. Seeing the usually in-control and level-headed Rahu get needy and desperate was something you don’t get to see often.

The fact she couldn’t touch you was driving her insane. At the very least, Rahu wants her lips on yours, but the mask stays on. Like a muzzle, it prevents her from reaching your supple lips or marking her claim on the soft skin of your body. She wants to be able to touch you– to have her lips on yours. Her desperate pleas for more contact manifested into another whine.

At this you slowly pull away, removing all physical contact from Rahu for a moment, leaving the poor woman confused by your actions. Her confusion was short-lived though as she felt your hot breath between her legs. Despite sitting down, her legs already felt weak in anticipation.

“You’re going to be good right, Rahu? Remember…” Your command was absolute, “No touching or we’ll have to start all over again m’kay?”

You stick your tongue out, offering nothing more than a few kitten licks to the tip of Rahu’s cock. Your hands wrapped around her shaft as you offer the bare minimum of stimulation for her. She’s breathing heavy, breath beginning to go ragged as you start taking her length in your mouth.

An hour of teasing had Rahu on edge. You’ve stopped every time the woman was about to be pushed over the edge. Rahu’s hands kept finding their way into your hair when you start deepthroating her cock. This time though, Rahu kept her hands to herself, the needy whine escaping her lips doesn’t go unnoticed as you suck her with fevor.

“Please, please, please, m’gonna cum… Don’t stop now.” Rahu’s body was trumbling from the sensation of your mouth wrapped around her cock for the nth time. You softly moan as Rahu’s grunting at each bob of your head. You can feel her cock twitch and throb in your throat until her orgasms washed over her.

Being deprived of her sight had her body shuttering from the sheer intensity of each wave of the euphoric feeling. Ropes of her cum came spurting down your throat. Her thick and warm cum filling up the cavern of your mouth has Rahu tense. Some of it dribbled out of your mouth as you pulled away, whipping your mouth clean as you watched Rahu’s body relax and slump slightly.

You gently pull down the tie covering her eyes. You’re pepperng her face with kisses as Rahu finally gets to see you. Your fingers brush away the pretty tears before pushing your lips against Rahu’s. Tasting herself on your tongue has her moaning. Pulling away, Rahu’s needy expression spoke for herself.

“C’mon puppy,” Your hand gently pushes the sinner so she’s laying down in the sheets, hair splayed out as you cage her underneath your smaller frame. “Let me ride you first, and then you can fuck me silly for the night. Does that sound good?”

All you needed was Rahu’s eager nod before she felt your pussy swallow her whole.

[inumkii]

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ idiots to lovers - yuta okkotsu x reader

bullet point scenario

genre: fluff!! idiots to lovers (obviousllyyy)

wc: 1.3k

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ a/n: i figured it was better if i posted this instead of letting it sit in the dungeon (my collection of drafts that’ll never see the light of day)

okiee yuta timeee

i love annoying misconceptions and (falsely) heartbroken pining

the way i see it is that yuta strongly admires maki’s strength and resolve that, to you (who’s hopelessly pining after him), it can get mistaken as romantic ..

and it doesn't help that panda likes to be annoying about the two of them together ,,, it just all deflates your mood a little bit whenever you see them together 

and you know you have no right to be sulking about this,, maki and yuta are your friends.. it shouldn't matter if they did like each other,, it's not something you could control

but you just desperately wish that yuta could look at you with the same level of admiration that he has when he talks to maki about sparring or whatever it may be

hell, he could barely look you in the eyes

it makes you a little sad seeing everyone’s friendship with yuta develope rapidly throughout his time at jujutsu tech,, but when it comes to conversing with you, things still feel a little different 

its not like you two are merely acquaintances! you wouldn't hesitate to call okkutsu yuta a friend of yours,, but it's a simple relationship. not much complexity beyond your conversations during missions or gojo’s lessons

unfortunately for the both of you, you’re unaware of yuta’s affection for you

the reason why he doesn’t look at you with the admiration you wish for is because he can’t even look you in the eyes without getting too flustered ….

poor boy

he’s definitely gained a lot more confidence after joining jujutsu high, but it's still not enough to muster up enough courage to ask you to lunch or even have an in depth conversation without him getting too red in the face

he doesn’t know why you have this affect on him,, his previous relationship had been so easy- then again the carelessness of childhood was not a luxury he has anymore. though it was simpler, he knew he didn't have the mental capacity at such a young age to be overthinking shit like he does now

to add on, your friendship with toge has him struck with the familiar worries that you experience with maki

catching a glimpse of the spectators during his spar from the field, he can’t help but feel a little disappointed when he sees you seated a little too close to inumaki up on the bleachers. 

“how long have yn and toge been friends?” he questions maki in the midst of their spar as he blocks her oncoming attack

“oh those two? just as long as we all joined jujustu high” maki switches to the defensive as yuta charges forward. yuta moves to strike her but maki smirks, “though i think they oughta start dating sooner later”

her words cause yuta to freeze for a split second and she shoves him to the ground, effectively placing herself on top of him. she holds her staff to his neck, signaling her win. one point for maki

she laughs in victory before lowering her voice back to her previous volume.

“i was kidding, by the way. there’s definitely no feelings between them” she helps the defeated (and visibly embarrassed) boy off his feet, “clearly there are for the two of you, however”

she struts back toward you, panda, and toge to retrieve her water, leaving yuta a flustered mess on the ground

and in that whole instance, you hadn’t heard any of that conversation 

you had been leaned up against toge murmuring your complaints so panda, mediating the fight ahead, couldn't hear you

“they look good together” you say in self sabotaging pity

toge only shakes his head and disagrees

“okaka”

you’re sure he’s just doing this to make you feel better about yourself

“shes so pretty,, how couldnt he like her” you wail pathetically. toge is so fed up with this but its not he can just tell the other side how you felt (he would never rat you out like that though),, but hes certain yuta likes you back and that you're over analyzing him too much

he places a hand on your shoulder and waits for you to look up at him

the expression on his face tells you clearly, ‘you need to stop’

you sigh. toges right, he always is- but it still doesn’t do anything to quell your fears

and low and behold! your thoughts are interrupted by maki’s victory laugh. she was on top of him, rendering him unable to move

god you wished that was you………

you bury your head in your hands in utter frustration and groan. this is the worst feeling- you know you’re being stupid but jealousy is a disease and you’re dying over here!!

yuta swaps out with panda, who was waiting eagerly to fight the victor 

he joins you guys up on the bleachers, seating himself beside toge. he quickly notices your distressed figure

“is,, everything alrigjt?” he asks tentatively 

to his dismay, toge answers for you with a hum. this causes yuta to be a little peeved when it's him answering in your place- he tries to ignore it

you and inumaki seem way closer than you would ever be with him,,

but to yuta’s delight and your demise, toge stands up from between you (he doesn’t think he can stand to be sandwiched between the pining idiots anymore)

your blonde friend lets out a noise, motions to the line of water bottles at the bottom of the bleachers, and promptly leaves

yuta takes this opportunity to scoot himself closer to you, who’s still slumped over + wallowing away

“what were you two talking about?” he asks, trying to gauge why you’re sulking

you have to choose your words carefully. you couldn't just tell him you’re upset over something trivial like his spar with maki

“i’ve just been frustrated” you mumble vaguely

“frustrated?” he inches closer to you, trying to mimic toge’s proximity from before. he questions you with the utmost sincerity

“yeah. sorry i dont really know how to elaborate” you lift your head, deciding to stop staring holes into your shoes. you’re trying so hard to make this conversation not awkward- but your short answers don’t help your case at all.

“its alright, you dont have to talk about it if you dont want to” 

if there's one thing you love about okkotsu yuta, it was how sweet he is

for the first time in the last hour or however long you had all been out on the field, you let out a genuine smile

“thank you yuta, i appreciate you” 

his ears turn pink within a split second but nevertheless, he reciprocates your smile

the problem with conversing with you is that most of your conversations were too short

he could get so lost in your smile at times he finds himself silent, forgetting to carry on whatever you were talking to him about

this time he manages to snap himself out of it

“did you wanna hang out after practice? i mean- if you’d rather be alone right now that's fine to!” he knows he left the option to decline open but he hopes you didn't take him up on the latter,,

“that sounds nice.” you’re biting back a stupidly large grin 

neither of you notice that maki and pandas fight had already concluded or that inumaki had been gone a suspiciously large amount of time to just grab a drink of water 

makis smiling at the two of you up in your own world while toge almost sighs in exhaustion, 

“sujiko” 

(finally)

being around the two of you was quite a taxing event for them both

panda, on the other hand, is finally catching on- eyes shifting back and forth between you and yuta and his friends at the bottom of the bleachers in disbelief

it was an unspoken understanding between toge and maki that they should avoid panda becoming aware of the sprouting couple to avoid some- awkward comments, though he meant well

well, there’s no hiding it anymore with the two of you hopelessly blushing at each other + toge and maki’s shared smirks

before panda could say anything to disrupt the moment, his two friends were already dragging him off the field to avoid him opening his big mouth

“they wont notice we’ve left” maki says with a chuckle

“salmon”

[savannahsdeath]

hiii I love your work! could you pretty please do some toxic ellie? :)

TOXIC!ELLIE WILLIAMS X READER

mdni please<3

summary: a miserable attempt to leave your toxic girlfriend

warnings: preferably 18+, just lots of toxic shit, manipulating, reader is crying

writers note: probably the only toxic post you'll see on my profile. honestly, i dont even know why i wrote this and im posting it just for the anon. i dont support any toxic behavior, cuz even a simple fanfic can bring some harm. dont read it if youre sensitive to such topics and if you decide to read it, dont romanticize it and dont blame me for any bad feelings you felt while reading - youre responsible for your own media consumption, im not forcing anyone to read. as i said, i just post it for the anon and also because i dont want it to just sit in my drafts (i dont have the guts to delete it). ugh its kinda long but i just want to make sure everyones safe, please take care🩷

you were sitting in your bed with your head buried between your knees for half an hour now, ignoring the buzzing of your phone. you caught her with another girl. you should cry and feel miserable, and all you could think of was; 'finally! finally a reason to leave her!!'. all you could feel was happiness.

but leaving her wasn't easy. you tried a few times before.

'maybe it'll be different this time', you hoped. but the way you kept receiving notifications from her said otherwise. 'maybe if i ignore her for a few more minutes, she'll let me go.'

you tried to put your phone down, but your hands won't let you. your thumbs kept reaching for the screen in a desperate, involuntary action. you were powerless to stop it. you knew you shouldn't respond. you know you should walk away, but you couldn't. every time she messaged you, your heart beated faster and your breathing quickened. you knew this isn't the best thing for you, but a part of you was still clinging to hope.

'enough, stop it.' you ordered to yourself.

you picked up your phone, deciding to call your friend. she'll make you remember all the cruel things ellie did and leaving her will be easier.

your hands were shaking and you were truly scared of what's going to happen. you hestitated for too long before clicking on your friend's profile and.. lost your chance.

ellie was calling you. she wasn't giving up and she was probably pissed off by now.

you sighed and whispered; 'sorry' to your future self, before answering the call.

"why aren't you answering to my texts, huh?" she asked in an accusatory tone, as if you were the one who did something wrong.

your breath hitched as you heard her voice. there's no going back now. "i'm sorry, ellie, it's over." you mumbled and shook your head in disbelief. 'i'm sorry'?? for what? where was your confidence?

she took it from you, just like she's going to take anything she wants.

"i'll pick you up in a few minutes." she announced and you felt tears starting to well up in your eyes.

great. so she's on her way here.

you took a deep breath to stop your voice from quivering. "i'm not going anywhere- not with you."

ellie laughed, thinking it's all a joke. "you're funny, honey. you know you come crawling back to me everytime." she replies calmly. "so get ready. i'm coming to pick you up, and then we can talk about this. like grown-ups."

ellie was good at controlling you. she'll say she's coming to pick you up, and you'll be waiting on your porch when she arrives. she had a firm grip on you and she knew it.

not this time.

"like grown-ups?" you nervously laughed. "you cheated on me. again."

ellie didn't get angry. she wasn't even surprised.

"don't overreact, babe." she replied in an irritated tone. "it's not like it was anything serious. it's just some random girl. i'm still with you. you should know that."

you were stunned by her cavalier attitude. she really thought it's no big deal.

"leave me alone." if there was even a little bit of toughness in your voice before, it all left. now, you were just simply begging her to stop. "please."

ellie's confidence and her nonchalant attitude was getting to you. you felt angry, but at the same time, you were starting to doubt yourself.

you wanted to hang up, but you couldn't. you just waited for her reaction, praying this'll be the end. but you knew everything depended on what ellie wants, and for her, only her own good mattered.

ellie chuckled. "oh, sweetheart. you think you can just break up with me over the phone? we're not even having a fight here. come on, be reasonable. let's just talk this through. i'll be there soon."

you proudly raised your chin, even though she couldn't see that. the tears ruined your confident facade anyway. "i locked the door."

she stayed silent for a moment, not expecting that from you. but she always had a plan b, and you realised that as soon as you heard her laugh. "i'll check that myself."

you heard her car arrive outside your house, and an instant wave of regret washed over you.

she knocked on the front door. "i'm here, love. open up." her voice was gentle, with an apologetic tone.

you knew it was all a ploy to get you to open the door. you knew this was just another manipulative tactic she was using, but it was starting to work.

"come on, be a smart girl." she continued in a sweet voice. "or we'll do this the hard way."

you cursed yourself for how weak you felt, even though it wasn't your fault.

"ellie, please..." you begged, with as much authority as you could muster, but your pleads still sounded weak.

"what's that, babe? are you crying?" she responded in a mocking tone.

you felt powerless to resist her. your stomach twisted in knots, but your fingers reached for the knob. your other hand quickly wiped away your tears, though there were some visible smudges left. you stared at the doorknob in your hand, fighting every instinct in your body to open it and let her in. but you knew she'll get her way, sooner or later. you just wanted to get this over with.

with a shaking hand, you opened the door. you saw that ellie was holding a set of keys - there was definitely one to your house too. she could just unlock the door, but she wanted to check if you'll listen to her. you didn't even want to think about what would happen if you didn't give up.

she walked inside like she owned the place, and she didn't even look at you. she knew she's got you wrapped around her finger.

"good girl." she said, with the same mocking tone.

ellie's eyes darted around the room, and she walked over to take a closer look at a framed photo of the two of you on your shelf. she smirked, letting out a sarcastic 'hmph, so cute'.

you stood there, defeated, as she walked past you and paced around your home. she made herself comfortable, as if she belongs there. you tried to keep a brave face, but she could see right through it.

she sat down and turned to you. "tell me, why we ended up here?" she asked, her voice was cold and unforgiving, but it also sounded curious. "why are you trying to leave me? aren't you happy?"

you felt your lips tremble, as you parted them to speak. "you know damn well what you did."

she stood up and walked up to you, standing right in your face and leaning a little to match your eye level. "fucked another girl? huh? is that it?" she stroked your cheek with the back of her fingers, mocking your pout.

you flinched away from her touch, but she grabbed your face with both hands and pulled you towards her.

"i just had some fun." she said calmly. "besides, you can't blame me for wanting something different. just trying to make up for what you lack." she caressed your face, tracing your lips. it was almost gentle, as if she wasn't even trying to hurt you. but her words cut deep. "now, stop acting like a baby." she let go of your face. "i'm trying to have a mature conversation with you."

the obedient, scared side of you wiped your tears away and straightened up without thinking, but everytime you closed your eyes - everytime you blinked - another wave of salty liquid streamed down your cheeks.

you sniffled and tried to keep it together, but your body was shaking and feeling dizzy. still, you stood your ground.

"please, ellie... i can't do this anymore." you begged in a shaky voice.

"sh, shhh..." ellie wrapped her hands around you, rubbing your hair in a soothing motion. "don't say dumb things. i already know you can't live without me. you know that too." she grabbed you by the shoulders and forced you to look at her for a second. "don't you?"

her embrace felt somehow comforting, not matching the poisoning effect of her words. you clinged onto her, hoping to get as much from this rare moment as possible.

but you knew, deep down, that this is just another manipulation tactic. you shouldn't fall for her games.

"there, there." she whispered to you. she held you even tighter, as if she was trying to absorb every ounce of energy you had left.

she pulled back and looked you straight in the eyes. "do you see what happens when you try to leave me, babe?"

"i am leaving you." you said with as much conviction as you could muster. "i'm serious this time."

but ellie just smiled, treating your words like a joke. "that's funny, honey. this is just another one of your little tantrums. you're just upset because you haven't gotten enough attention these days. but you don't want to lose me." she ran her hands along your cheeks and caressed your hair. "you'll come back to me. you'll come crawling back, just like always. because you can't live without me."

you instantly buried your face in her chest, as she started stroking your back.

she sighed. "are you finished?"

you felt ashamed. you failed, once again. you let her win.

you lifted your head up so you could see her expression. her smile was even more mocking and cruel now that you've given in to her.

"that's more like it, babe." she said with that same condescending tone. she pulled you in for another hug, as if nothing happened. "now, let's forget all about today, okay?" she whispered in your ear. "my pretty girl."

[cottoncandyafterdark]

Hello, Nanami's alphabet was so good, and I was wondering if I could request Senku (as adult ofc) NSFW alphabet too? I hope it's fine, thank you!

Got it right here! =D Thanks for the request, hope you like this alright! To be honest, I always have trouble seeing Senku in sexual situations, so I did my best to keep it true to him and how I see him while still being sexy. Hope you enjoy, thanks for waiting!

Fandom: Dr Stone

Character(s): Senku Ishigami

Warnings: None

ao3 | Ko-Fi

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

He needs a moment to catch his breath, but after that, he's surprisingly cuddly. He might not usually be one for physical touch, but he's not so averse to it that he'll leave you dry. Plus, just about everyone needs a hug once in a while- this is his once in a while.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He's not so focused on the physical, at least, not to the point that there's a specific part of your body he's more attracted to than any other. He thinks you, as a whole, are very attractive, end of sentence.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Mostly irrelevant because he pretty much always uses a condom. He doesn't have penetrative sex until they can make condoms in the stone world, and then always uses them until they re-invent other forms of birth control, or you discuss having kids and decide to try for a pregnancy. Whatever comes first.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

When he first decided to broach the subject of sex with you, he wrote down and practiced what he would say because he felt his typical blunt "brutal honesty" attitude wouldn't go over super well in this particular instance. He tried as hard as he could to make it sound like he hadn't spent hours rehearsing. He still has the notes where he drafted it hidden away, but if anyone ever found them he might die of embarrassment.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Yeah, it would be a shock if he had any experience before he met you. He's never been in a serious relationship before, and he's certainly not one for casual sex, so, yeah, you're almost certainly his first. He has no clue what he's doing your first couple of times having sex, but he'll get the hang of it pretty quickly.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

He's a fan of cowgirl and any other position where he's sitting or laying down and doesn't have to exert himself too much (not that he's lazy, but his physical strength and stamina is... Well... You know. He's Senku.) Don't take that to mean he's submissive, though; Senku is quite the power bottom.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He doesn't really purposely try to be humorous, but if something funny happens, he can laugh and go with it.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

As funny as it would be, he doesn't have any green streaks in his pubic hair- it is white/platinum blonde, though. He keeps it trimmed and well-groomed.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He can be quite romantic, in his own way. For Senku, an emotional connection is a non-negotiable prerequisite for sex, so he almost has to be. He might not show his love in the most traditional of ways, but if you know him, and you do, you'll be able to feel it in the way he touches and talks to you during.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He doesn't do it all that often, especially once he's in a relationship. On the rare occasions he gets horny enough to want that release, he's going straight to you. He only jerks off on the rare occasion that he gets really horny and you just aren't available for whatever reason.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

He's mostly vanilla, but he's pretty into dirty talk to a point you could probably call it a kink.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Bed. Maybe a chair in a private place if he's feeling spicy. He has a fantasy of fucking you in the lab, but knows that you probably shouldn't actually do that (too many dangerous chemicals).

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Really, you just have to tell him straight up that you're horny and want to fuck. If he's in a good mood and not too tired, that'll start getting him nice and worked up on its own, then the foreplay will really get him ready to have some fun.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

No pain, no fluids, and no completely unprotected sex (at least, not without a lot of discussion and a clean STD test beforehand.)

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He likes giving oral a little better than receiving it. He enjoys receiving, of course, but feels it can spoil things a bit if he comes before the 'main course', so to speak. But when giving, he can just focus on your pleasure, especially if you have a little more stamina than him and he can make you cum once or twice without any fear of ruining anything.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Usually, he lets you set the pace, but he prefers it to be on the "fast and rough" side.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Not really his thing. His sex drive isn't very high, so a quickie just feels like a wasted opportunity. If he's in the mood, he wants to really enjoy it, and that usually means taking his time.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Experimentation is core to science, isn't it? So yes, he's game to try out new things. As for anything risky... Not really his thing. It's not like he's scared to take calculated risks, he just doesn't find them particularly sexy.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

We all know Senku isn't the most physically inclined guy. Unfortunately, this does affect his stamina in sexual situations, too. He can go for one round, and if you want more, he needs quite a bit of recovery time- though this is lessened if you go for a position where he doesn't need to exert himself as much, like cowgirl or other 'riding' type positions.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He kind of likes toys, though only uses them for his partner, not himself. He sees them as a tool mainly for foreplay- not the main event themselves. Of course, there's not many options for toys in the stone world... Though that may be a private little side project he works on occasionally.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Only a little bit. He's not trying to deny your orgasm or anything, just, draw out the foreplay a little bit more than is strictly necessary. He just wants to get both of you properly worked up and if that requires a bit of teasing, so be it.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He's very quiet. To the point that if you're in the dark, you could think he's fallen asleep or something. But he knows most people like more noise from their partner, so he'll start to fill the silence with words, since he's just not the type to moan and groan a lot- see entry W.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He is shockingly good at dirty talk. You're honestly not sure if it's natural talent or he's copying what he's seen online or what, but his talent at whispering just the perfect thing into your ear to get you going is unbelievable- and unbelievably hot.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

His dick is about 5 and a half inches in length and also has a pretty average girth- nothing special in terms of sheer size, sure, but we all know it isn't the size of the wave, it's the motion of the ocean, right? ;)

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Quite lower than average, honestly. He needs a bit of motivation to get him going, so you'll have to get used to being the one to initiate most of the time.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He usually dozes off after 10-20 min if he stays in bed- which he often does, because he gets pretty tired, especially after more intense rounds. He doesn't stay asleep for long, though, it's almost always more of a nap than anything.

[jasminewalkerauthor]

So you've wrote a book, what's next?

So I recently started uni and naturally immediately joined my universities writing and book societies, last week I was sat editing my book when a couple of people approached me. Apparently through some light instagram stalking they had found out I published books and was wondering how on earth do you even do it.

Upon being on tumblr this week it turns out that this is a question that a lot of people are interested in, this being probably my most requested post ever?

ANYWAY. You've wrote a book, either you're two drafts in or fifty drafts in it doesn't entirely matter. I am going to give you the bad news that the work has only just begun.

The first choice you really need to make is whether or not you want to pursue traditional publishing or self/indie publishing. I believe the common misconception of the difference between the two is that one is 'Easier' than the other. Both are hard, just in different ways.

Traditional publishing is hard to break into, you need to convince enough of people that your book is worth selling which can be incredibly difficult and results in a lot of heartbreaking emails. However once you have that publishing deal you have those people in your corner to help with editing, cover design, and distribution among other things.

Self publishing, much like the name suggests, means that you have to do everything yourself, edit (or source an editor), design (or source a designer), marketing, the works. However the plus side of self publishing which I like is that you have a lot more creative control and freedom.

Now to be fully transparent, I am an indie author, naturally I am going to know a lot more about a process I have actually gone through rather than one I havent. However I do believe I can provide at least a rough guideline of the process so that people can get an idea of what going into it.

So starting with traditional publishing, assuming that you have a full draft that you've at least done some self editing on, your first step is finding an agent. You'll need a couple of things for this. First is make a document of the first 30 pages of your manuscript (a 'sample' if you will), and a query letter which is almost like a cover letter for your book, this is what potential agents will look at to judge whether they want to represent your manuscript.

I dont think I need to say it but your query letter is VITAL, please take time with it, some agents may not even look at your sample if your query letter is bad.

Now, searching for agents is relatively easy, there are a lot of databases online that will give you a list of agents and whether or not they are accepting submissions. Most agents will also have a kind of 'wishlist' of manuscripts they're looking to represent (e.g. sci-fi, philosophy, high fantasy), look for agents with a wishlist that includes your kind of book.

Once you have an agent they will be able to go to different publishing houses with your manuscript, hopefully leading to a book deal at some point. From there the publishers will help with editing, design, and distribution.

With self publishing the process is a bit more complicated. First is the editing process. Either you can edit your own manuscript if you feel up to it or you can source an editor. There are three different editors you can hire: Developmental editor, Line editor, and Proof reader. Almost every editor charges per word of your manuscript.

I would also recommend looking for Beta readers, these are readers who will read through an early copy of your manuscript for feedback (These are NOT editors, more reviewers). There are also ARC readers who you send an early copy to about 2-3 months before release to build interest in your book.

When it comes to the actual publishing itself, there are two main publishing platforms: kdp and ingram spark. Both of these are three besides the fact that you will need to buy an ISPN for your book to use ingram spark.

I think i'll leave it there because this is LONG, but i may turn this into a series, what do y'all want to know about?

[farfromstrange]

6 Totally Random Matt Murdock Headcanons that keep me up at night

Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x afab!Reader

Summary: Just some Matty headcanons today!

Warnings: Mentions of Smut! 18+ MINORS DNI! (Not proofread)

A/n: I was planning on writing a fic, but then I found this in my drafts and thought I would finish it. Yes, I did write those at three in the morning every time I woke up. That's...that's not unhealthy at all or anything.

1. Volume

Matt is a very vocal person in bed. I'm not talking full-on screaming though.

While there are times he is quiet to hear your breathy moans and whines as he’s pounding into you and he hears you begging for “More, more, more…” as soon as he feels you around his cock, it’s game over for him. He loses that tiny bit of self-control. He grunts and groans, and sometimes, when he feels particularly in the mood, he whines and whimpers because you treat him so well.

Don't even get me started on when he goes down on you. He will moan just from the taste of you, and then some more when your hands tangle in his hair, causing the slightest amount of pain. He thrives off of it.

He wants to show you how good you make him feel, not just the other way around, and ever since he has noticed that you like it when he makes noise, he makes sure to moan every so often when you're fucking or making love or simply enjoying each other's bodies in all the ways possible. He trusts you enough to do it, to let himself go and surrender himself, and you reward him for being a good boy.

2. Eating...

We have established that Matt Murdock is the King Of Eating Pussy. The love for giving oral runs deep, not just in his desire to please and never take anything in return. Not just because he wants to make you feel good. It's literal torture on his sensitive senses when he doesn't get to drown between your legs at least once.

It's his form of worshipping you, of praying to you in a highly blasphemous context when he thinks about the things you have moaned, but he would do it time and time again. He loves it. The taste alone gets him high and then it's all he focuses on. It calms him.

I truly believe that hearing your heartbeat, the blood rushing in the veins of your thighs, and the taste of your arousal mixed with pheromones do something to him that lets out some sort of animal whenever he smells you. And then he just needs to have you or he will go crazy. It's the same with your natural scent.

Matt Murdock gets off on the mere taste of his partner’s arousal. He can taste it in the air. He makes sure to make you come on his tongue at least once when you’re getting intimate, and not just as foreplay. He does it before, during, and after, depending on his and your mood. He knows what buttons to press, how hard to suck on your clit and he knows how to slide his tongue inside of you and fuck you with it until you’re shaking. He will keep your thighs spread wide and hold you down, but let you wrap your legs around his head and clench around him because he loves the momentary loss of oxygen.

3. Consent.

He will only ever touch you when he knows that you want it. He won’t fuck you when you’re not in the right mental state because he doesn’t want to take advantage of you. He makes sure to ask and communicate and when your answers are not clear, he stops the scene. He can hear it in your heartbeat and he would never cross that line, not even when he is horny and full of adrenaline in the middle of the night.

He would ask you for permission to fuck you when you're asleep, maybe, so he won't have to wake you when he comes home late from patrol, but even then he needs vocal confirmation beforehand to know he won't cross a line. So every night when he leaves, he asks if you'd still be okay with it, and after learning that he would be anything but mad when you say no, you give him the most honest answer.

4. Cuddles

When he has a bad day, he wants nothing more than to be held by you. Either he is the little spoon or, and that happens the most often, he places his head in your chest as you entangle your limbs with his and hold him close, raking your nails through his hair.

He relaxes when you massage his scalp, but he also enjoys your touch on his tense shoulders, and that's when he likes to be pampered like a little princess. Pampering, in this case, is cuddles. He wants all the cuddles you can give him.

It's nights like these that he realizes how in love he is with you, and how safe he feels when he's in your arms. But God forbid anyone finds that out. He will not admit that he enjoys being pampered by you because that would make him seem vulnerable, and we all know our dear Matthew, don't we?

5. Concerts

This came to me randomly, but since he has sensitive hearing, it would be hard for him to go to concerts with you. However, he will make sure to follow along to the venue, drop you off, and then I'm certain he would find a rooftop somewhere further in the distance, put some earbuds in to protect his sensitive ears, and he would listen.

He would filter your voice out of the crowd and imagine himself dancing to the music with you. He loves how excited you get when your favorite artist is playing. He knows you're aware of what he's doing, and you make sure to whisper, "Thank you," under your breath.

Listening to you have fun at a concert would also broaden Matt's horizons when it comes to music, and you would catch him playing your Playlist at home while cooking one day, humming along.

One of these days, you will find a way to take him there with you, but until then, he makes sure you at least know he's listening while you're having the time of your life.

6. Neck-holding

This doesn't need an explanation, but I will give it to you anyway.

Matt loves holding your neck, sexually and non-sexually. He loves feeling your pulse, the way you respond to him, and he loves how much closer you get whenever he does it.

He'd be like, "Come here, sweetheart." And you would jump into his lap, cuddling into him, while he holds you with one arm around the rest of your body, the other wrapping gently around your neck.

And in bed, you guys probably know how it would go.

Do you guys want a Part 2? Maybe some angst?

[cinnamonest]

Uwahhh ty anon <3 I had two other requests for more Xingqiu content as well so please appreciate this thought blurb I've had drafted for a while

Something I've been thinking a lot about is that not only is Xingqiu so incredibly petty and picky and controlling, but it's made so much worse by the fact that he lacks self-awareness of it.

Like, he's always been told by adults that he's oh-so-mature for his age, and he's internalized that, made it part of his internal self-image. Not to mention, becoming a successful author isn't something most teens his age have accomplished either — he feels very “adult,” like he's smarter, more conscientious, more considerate than his peers, and better than them for it too.

And it’s true that most of the time, he usually is all of those things, but this makes him entirely unaware of the ways in which he is, in fact, very much immature.

He's picky. He likes to have things the way he wants them. Part of why he fails to realize how picky he is, is due to the fact that all his life, he's usually had anything he wants handed to him, and anything he finds issue with resolved, and it all comes so easily that he's never considered that perhaps it doesn't go that way for normal people, and that perhaps he wouldn't be quite so agreeable if he was ever told “no,” that his agreeableness and easygoing nature is really just due to the fact that he's never faced with anything to be disagreeable about, a near-total lack of resistance to his will. Even outside his family home, usually waving around money or speaking his father's name is enough to get him what he wants.

And being raised in an environment where he's only ever known a marriage dynamic where one specific partner is completely submissive to the will of the other, he's not even prepared to conceive of anything short of it. After all, his parents arranged the marriage to begin with, surely they would pick someone just as agreeable as his mother.

He likes to pick what you wear each day. When the servants ask what you'd like to eat that day, he answers for you. When people ask questions about you, he answers for you too (although to be fair, in those social circles, they usually direct questions at him anyway, as if you're some animal that can't answer yourself).

He always tells you what you'll be doing, where you'll be going for the day, never asking for your preference — it quite literally simply does not even occur to him that you might have one.

It's not malicious, and he's got that usual cheerful and easygoing demeanor about it all, but it's a clear total disregard for your personhood nonetheless, even if not intentional or conscious.

But you can tell there’s a certain degree of stubbornness in him. It comes out the moment there’s any resistance to his will, when there’s a moment where something can’t go exactly as he wants. It’s never directed at you, at first, since you have done everything in your power to comply, but you notice it coming out towards others — that time one of the family servants had to inform him they didn’t have something he asked for because a shipment was delayed, or when they tried to stop the two of you from leaving because his father needed to speak with him first, so on and so on. The sudden change in expression, tone, body language. Crossed arms and heavy irritated sighs, frustration in his voice — deliberate, a tone he knows will only make the poor family servants that much more apologetic. Maybe he likes feeling that power over them, you think.

The first time he hears no from you, though?

He doesn't even really know how to process it. Just a blank stare of stupor, a few blinks, the usual gentle smile hasn't even faded from his face.

…Huh? Come on, get up, like I said, we're leaving…

He reaches down to grab your arm — and you pull back. You swat his hand away. You cross your arms and clench your jaw and say that word again — no.

And there's a long, long pause.

…What?

You feel his hand wrap around your arm, this time too quick to pull back. He says it again, a tone that's merely confused, not angry, still in a state that's struggling to comprehend your resistance.

What are you doing? I said—

And you interrupt him.

You jerk out of his grasp. You scowl and tell him he can leave, that you're staying home, that you're mad and need time alone. You turn on your heel and start to walk away.

Once again, you feel his hand wrap around your arm.

Only this time, it's harsh.

And this time, it jerks you backward with a force that slings you down onto the ground.

There's a few seconds of silence. You hear his heavy breaths from the exertion of the movement.

You don't get to say something like that.

His words are still not angry, per se. Not harsh, more disbelief, almost intonated like a question.

Likewise, his expression and tone aren't ominously dark like some might be. It's more of a scoff, stubborn and still somewhat baffled. More petulance, rather than outrage.

And there's that same shift in expression and posture — the crossed arms, brows furrowed in disdain.

Really, what's gotten into you?

It's said more quietly, almost like a hissing sort of voice, grumbly, bitter. You're still in too much of a daze from the fall to react beyond a surprised grunt when you're pulled back up onto your feet, a few quick swipes of his hands dusting your off and smoothing our your clothes, only for him to notice a newly-formed tear in the fabric from the harsh movement. You get another exasperated sigh.

Now we'll have to have someone fix that…

This time, you're drug forward with force, a firm grasp on your wrist, a subtle threat that this time you ought not pull back.

And this time, as your feet stumbled forward in compliance, your obedience is clearly a source of satisfaction, based on the shift in his expression, the soft hum of contentment. Now that you, like everyone else, have bent to his will, as everything does with enough pushing.

It's good that whatever came over you was over so quickly. That was very unlike you.

Still, of course, he's going to be a bit cold and petty about it for a day or so, and you just know you'll get yet another overbearing mother-in-law lecture when he inevitably goes whining to her about your behaviors like he always does, always getting her to try and teach you how to behave properly, rectify any perceived flaw he finds with you, like a child begging Mom to repair a malfunctioning toy.

Can't have you thinking you could ever do something like that again. You really need to be more mature, he tells you. You can't always have things go the way you want in life.

[just-mary-ann]

I DON'T HAVE SELF CONTROL!

Harlequin swap AU by: @tadc-harlequin-au

Based on the draft of me and @mrs-nightshade

Honorable mention: @thore-lb

Lavender

Pomni and Caine sat across from each other at the kitchen table. Their coffee preferences differed—not that they needed coffee—but indulging in such a human ritual allowed them to feel alive, if only for about ten minutes.

"I didn’t see Able this morning," Caine remarked, inspecting his top hat before placing it back on his head.

"He hasn’t returned from the fighting ring yet," Pomni replied, stirring her coffee slowly.

"The fighting ring?" Caine tilted his head, mimicking the gesture of a raised eyebrow.

"The first rule is not to talk about it, so that’s all you’ll get from me," Pomni chuckled.

Suddenly, they heard a grumble. Able entered, exuding irritation.

"I’m back," he muttered, heading straight for the coffee machine.

"You look exhausted, brother," Caine slid a clean mug toward him. As expected, Able caught it effortlessly. "Don’t tell me you lost?"

"Bite your tongue, detachable jaw," Able retorted, pouring himself a cup of coffee before sitting beside Caine. "I found out who my 'secret admirer' is."

"You mean that fanatic who’s been staring holes through you at the fights for the past month?" Pomni leaned forward.

"She’s so persistent I could physically feel her gaze," Able ran a hand over his head. "You’ll never guess who she is."

"Oh, let me guess—a dainty little statuette who’s bored of high society and fell for a bad boy," Pomni waved her hand sarcastically.

"Your sister," Able replied, waiting for Pomni to meet his gaze. "Lilac."

"Pomni has a sister?" Caine was genuinely shocked.

"Not just a sister—a twin," Able explained.

"No way. Lilac is a 'proper lady.' I refuse to believe she’d attend a fight," Pomni nervously started stuffing herbs into her pipe.

"Believe it. I’d recognize her Harlequin design anywhere. How many Harlequin puppets do you know?" Able sighed.

"Excuse me, but could someone explain how Pomni has a twin sister?" Caine interjected.

Pomni and Able exchanged glances.

"When a man and a woman love each other, they can create new life," Pomni began with a smile.

"Th-that’s not what I meant!" Caine facepalmed. "I mean, why hasn’t anyone mentioned her all this time I’ve been living in the bunker?"

"There wasn’t a need to," Pomni leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. "My sister and I haven’t spoken since she gained full consciousness. I’m not even sure she knows where the bunker is. I did try convincing her to move here, but even after enlightenment, she chose to stay with her human owner."

"A puppet willingly serving a human?" Caine mused.

"Can we drop the subject?" Able stood up from the table. "Her voice is so sweet it’s practically cavity-inducing. I’d rather not think about it anymore."

The day passed quickly, and soon it was night. Able prepared to leave for the fighting ring again.

"Able," Caine stopped him. "Listen. Can I come with you tonight? I’m really curious to see how you fight other puppets."

Able chuckled.

"What? Losing to me wasn’t enough for you?"

"Our match was a tie. We’re evenly matched in strength," Caine crossed his arms.

"Fine. No harm in having one more spectator. Let’s go."

Caine enjoyed watching his brother fight, though the crowd's noise made him uncomfortable.

"His stance is solid. His punches are professional. It’s clear this isn’t just fighting for him—it’s a sport," Caine muttered to himself.

"YES! GO, ABLE! YOU’RE AMAZING UNDER THE RING LIGHTS!"

Caine turned toward the feminine voice. Beside him stood a puppet woman. Her long black hair was styled in elegant curls, gathered into a loose updo. She wore a floor-length lavender gown with closed shoulders and long sleeves, adorned with ruffles and lavender embroidery. She completed the look with mesh gloves and a parasol hanging from her elbow. The puppet applauded enthusiastically with every blow Able landed.

Suddenly, realization hit Caine.

"Lilac?"

"Hm?" The puppet turned to him. "Do we know each other?"

"Not personally. I’m a friend of Pomni and Able. Caine."

"Oh, a friend of my sister. And my darling Able? Well, hello there. I’m Lilac, the Lavender Harlequin. Come to watch the fight?"

"Yes. But I won’t stay for the rest of the evening. Once Able is done, we’re heading home."

Able’s opponent suddenly landed a hit on his shoulder. His arm went limp.

"Looks like a shoulder joint injury," Caine winced at the thought of the pain his brother must be feeling. "We’ll need to replace it."

"You... can repair puppets?" Lilac clutched her parasol tightly.

"Both Able and I know how to repair and create puppets. I can’t recall where I learned, but it doesn’t change the fact that we often spend time in the workshop."

"Create... puppets..." Lilac clung to his words.

Despite his injury, Able secured a victory. As they left the club, Able suddenly cracked his shoulder back into place, restoring its movement.

"Ah, so it was a dislocation, not a break?" Caine asked.

"Did you think a weak hit like that could hurt me?" Able teased.

"Darling Able!" Lilac hurried after them, slightly out of breath. "You’re so fast, and I’m in heels!"

"Ugh. Lilac," Able averted his gaze. "What do you want this time?"

"Caine said you can create puppets. Is that true?"

Able shot a glare at his brother.

"So what if it is?"

"That means... you can create one from scratch?" Lilac fidgeted with her parasol.

Able froze.

"So what?" he repeated.

"My owner, Lady Melissa," Lilac’s voice broke as tears welled up in her eyes. "She’s gravely ill. No medicine helps her. Please, I beg you, help her." She looked at him with pleading eyes. "Can you turn her into a puppet?"

Able hadn’t expected such a request. Usually, Lilac would shower him with compliments and hint at a date. But now, she seemed... desperate and hopeless.

"Ugh," Able sighed. "To be honest, yes, I can build her a body." Lilac’s face lit up with hope. "But a mechanical body is just a shell. Without a soul, it’s useless. I don’t have the knowledge or skills to transfer her soul from a living body to a mechanical one." He turned and began walking toward the bunker. "If I could help, I would. But as it stands..." Able glanced back at her. "Pray for the best outcome."

Caine felt sorry for Lilac. She stood frozen, as if rooted to the spot, her tears abruptly stopping. Without a word, Caine followed his brother.

To be continued

[atlantis-just-drowned]

I just finished chapter 15 of 'Love, Death and Rollerskates' and Oh Damn

This post will contain slight spoilers so beware

Guys we already know that Sun also has his memories wiped by Afton but has anyone picked up on the fact that Afton also manipulates both Sun and Moon to hate each other?

I mean listen.

They are both so deeply convinced that the other is a monster. It's not just some manipulative tactic to keep the reader for themselves (as I thought for Sun in the beginning tbh). They really do think it's the truth. But how did they end up thinking this way, and why?

Welp those are very interesting questions but they're not exactly the right ones. What we have to ask here is who does this hatred profit to?

And here we have an answer, and this answer is William Afton.

Why? Because as long as they hate each other, they 1) forget that he's the one controlling them because they both have a scapegoat to blame for their situation and 2) can't team up to beat him, leaving them isolated and powerless.

Which is so damn clever to be honest.

So yes Afton erases their memories, but I also believe he takes this opportunity to fill in the blanks with some made up stories and/or manipulate the truth to nourish their hatred.

The worst part is the fact that he doesn't have to participate that much in it: all he has to do is twist the facts just enough for them to drift apart and stop communicating, and the rest is only a vicious circle of misunderstandings, negative emotions and lack of communication, that will never stop unless they actively seek to break that pattern and communicate.

For now I think Moon is the one who would recognise this pattern the most easily, because he's the most logical one of the two, and he already knows that Sun is being manipulated as well and experiences memory losses, he just doesn't know to what extent this affects his counterpart. Whereas Sun is in complete denial of it all, covering it with some sort of toxic positivity, and the narrative he gives is incredibly self-centred and based on his feelings rather than the facts, making it impossible for him to see the whole picture.

Reader have a crucial role in this dynamic, because both Sun and Moon care about them deeply, making them more keen on listening to y/n and taking their words into account. This is both a disadvantage and a good news: reader can aggravate this circle if they start picking sides and talking negatively about one of them to the other, but on the other hand, they could be able to push through the mutual hatred and get them to talk together again, with a common goal for the two of them: keeping y/n safe, and maybe, break free from Afton's emprise.

Anyway thank you for listening to my rants, I had to type this WHOLE SHIT twice because Tumblr didn't save my first draft lmao

[terresdebrume]

For the WIP ask game: Edwin and Charles reunite, please?

[Ask me about my WIPs]

Hi and thanks for asking about that one, it's one of the works I'm most excited about right now (I cycle, I cycle). I had to check my tag to make sure I didn't end up sharing the same snippet as before xD

So, here's something new from draft 1:

Eye contact, with Charles, used to be easy. Or, not easy, exactly, but easier. Easier than it is with other people, at least. Right now, Edwin can barely look at his left eyebrow, but it’s enough to discern the way his frown deepens. The confused tilt of his eyebrows.

“What do you mean?” He asks.

Edwin closes his eyes against the tears threatening to boil over.

“Please, do not make this harder than it needs to be. I am talking about the message I sent you—the last one you read.”

“Edwin,” Charles says, urgency entering his voice as he takes a step closer to Edwin, “I have no idea what you’re talking about. What message?”

Edwin takes two steps back, pressing his fists together again. He looks up at Charles’ face and finds it tense and frowning but not…upset. Or avoidant. Besides… why would Charles have shouted his name in the street and ran after him if he truly was upset by Edwin’s confession? The possibility makes no sense. Edwin breathes in, then out, and his fists relax against one another.

“My… coming out to you,” he says, amending his sentence at the last minute. No sense in incriminating himself more than necessary. “You… it was marked as read, but you never answered. When we came back to school and we were told you had transferred out, I thought—”

The sound of his bookbags hitting the floor traps the rest of Edwin’s words in his throat, and then Charles is in his space again, hands on his shoulders, thumb pushing hard enough against his clavicles for Edwin to feel them through his layers. This is what Charles did when he wanted Edwin to listen to him carefully. Edwin does the same thing he did then: lifts his gaze and does his best to meet Charles’ eyes.

“I would never,” Charles starts, an intensity in his expression that has Edwin’s breath stop in his throat, “ever transfer school to get away from someone because they’re gay. Especially not a friend, and especially not you, Edwin. Never in a million years.”

Edwin lowers his eyes, tension seeping from his shoulders fast enough to leave him dizzy. His entire torso feels numb, sore in the way prolonged effort always leaves him. Edwin breathes. His eyes are still wet, but they don’t burn as much, and it’s almost easy to look at Charles again when he ducks down to find his eyes.

“Edwin,” he says, thumbs pressing harder against Edwin’s clavicles, “you were my best friend. You’re the only person I missed after I left—and it had nothing to do with you. I never got your text.”

“Yes,” Edwin agrees, frowning in confusion, “I am starting to understand that. I simply—why, then? Why did you leave, why did you not—”

Charles steps back again, burying his hands in the deep pockets of his jacket. The same patches adorn its shoulders, its elbows. On the lapel, Charles’ checkered button pin gave way to a cluster of raised fists in various shades of brown. The joystick is now a pair of Switch controllers. The Rastafarian flag is still there. The smiley pin is gone. But Charles doesn’t look entirely like his younger self until he shrinks in on himself low enough to look Edwin’s height again. Edwin’s stomach sinks.

“Things at home were uh…not great.” Charles’ hand comes up to scratch at the back of his head, and a fist squeezes around Edwin’s throat. Charles straightens up a little. Looks to the side, his face pinched. “Bad.”

[vodika-vibes]

CONGRATS ON 500!!

Long time lurker, I am here every morning around work, and have reread most of your fics at least 3 times. Your writing is amazing!

Okay I'll stop gushing 🙈

For the follower event, I was thinking Kix, Emerald, and late night.

Thank you, and congrats again!! 😊

I'll Wait Forever

Summary: When an emergency makes Kix late to pick you up for your date he’s incredibly apologetic. What he doesn’t know, and what you need him to understand, is that you’d wait forever for him.

Pairing: Post-Stasis Kix x F!Reader

Word Count: 830

Warnings: None

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: Thank you for your nice comment! I'm so glad that you like my stories enough to come back to them! I hope this is close to what you wanted, you didn't specify, so I chose to go with Post-Stasis Kix rather than TCW era Kix. Both are swoon-worthy. My goal is to keep all of these under 1000 words. I wonder how I'll do, lol.

The fall of the Empire, and the rise of the New Republic, has made you a very wealthy person. Wealthy enough that you, and a group of your friends, were able to repurpose a Lucrehulk Class droid control ship into something a little more useful. 

As of now, and with the permission of the New Republic, the ship is home to over two million displaced individuals (many of Alderaanian descent), it’s also home to a massive shopping center, and is the home point for this sector's Bounty Hunters Guild.

It is a point of some pride, yes.

And, at this point, it basically runs itself. Which means that you only have to do a little bit of work to make sure it stays running smoothly. Which, for you, means that you have to play nice with the politicians in the New Republic.

But that only happens every so often.

Which means you’re able to focus on more important things.

Like writing your novel…and spending time with your boyfriend.

Both are very important to you, though you’re not ashamed to admit that Kix, your boyfriend, is far more important to you than anything else that you own. Including the ship that you currently call home.

He travels a lot, and you don’t mind, because in the end he always comes back to you. 

Speaking of said boyfriend, he said that he was going to take you on a date tonight.

You tilt your head back to catch a glimpse of the chrono on the wall, and you release a sigh, though there’s a smile on your face. It is well past closing time for all but the seediest of restaurants, which means no going out tonight.

Ah well. Such is life.

You flick your gaze back to the first draft of your novel, and you make sure to save your work before you set it to the side.

Time to make dinner, and if you’re lucky, Kix will join you for dinner. 

You meander into your kitchen and you put some water on the stove for the pasta, before you dig around your pantry. Might as well make a proper meal.

You’re about to put the pasta in the boiling water when the door to your suite slides open. Absently you pour the whole box into the water, before leaning back to look into the main part of your suite, and a bright smile crosses your face.

Kix is gorgeous. 

Tall and broad, with thick curly hair and an equally thick beard. The tattoo under his hair just barely peeks out at his temple.

You’d quite happily follow him into hell, if he asked.

Not that he ever would.

“Welcome home,” You chirp from the kitchen, “I started pasta for dinner, do you want cheesy bread or garlic. I have both because I have no self control when it comes to bread. It’s a problem.” You check the water and then leave your posting in the kitchen to walk over to him. 

He sets his helmet on the table next to the door, and then casts his gaze to you, something akin to guilt crosses his face when he takes you in, “I’m late.”

“I don’t mind.”

“You got all dressed up for me.” Kix says, his lips turning down.

“I got dressed up for myself. The fact that you also appreciate it is just a bonus.” You grin at him, and slide into his arms, your arms twining around his neck, “Now. Garlic bread or cheesy bread. This is a super important decision, Kix.”

His arms tightens around your hips, “I’m sorry, love.”

“It’s just bread, Kix. It’s not really that important. I can make both.”

He laughs softly, but there’s something almost broken in his voice, “I’m sorry for missing our date. Again.”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not. It’s really, really not. You deserve better than…this.” He vaguely gestures to himself.

“I don’t want better. I want you.”

“Even though I neglect you?”

You slide your hands to his face, and you lightly brush your fingers under his eyes, “Hold on there, mister. You don’t neglect me. I have never once felt neglected.”

He tilts your head back, “How can you say that?”

“Kix,” You grin at him, “You still don’t get it, do you?”

“Get what?”

You stand on your toes to brush your lips against his, “I’d wait forever for you. You’re worth it. I’d follow you into hell if you asked.”

He exhales sharply, his breath washing across your face, “I love you.”

You beam at him, “I know, I’m very lovable.”

Kix arches a single brow, and he moves his fingers to your sides, lightly tickling you, pulling a startled giggle from your lips, “Is that all you have to say?” He asks, a smile playing on his lips now.

You hop into his arms, his arms sliding securely around your waist to support you, as you kiss him deeply, “I love you too. Always. Forever.”

[roxyteal]

(Jesus Christ it happened again. Mobile decided to not only publish the draft but also not save any of my edits. Pardon me if you see any appear) (Oct 30: Put context about his sobriety in the beginning, as opposed to in the middle out of nowhere.)

Today I am compelled to talk about Joe 5. It may include things I already mentioned in a different post, but those were in the tags so if any of this seems like not new info, sorry about that.

ANYWAY

Joe 5. Also this gets long so bear with me.

Joe 5 (but you can use either Joe or 5) came from a complete set copy of "Joe`s basics joke game". He was relatively fine as a person, with highs and lows. He's a bit of a snark but it's usually lighthearted. He even realized he had a problem and got clean, though... Alcohol still kinda haunts him as a result.

At some point, he and his entourage found the Webspace. On that day, they were among two others - a copy of Denied's Basics (the 10th apparently), and the 82nd Dave, who was a rogue for some reason.

Things were alright until it was mentioned that there was a pre-existing Joe and company around, and whether or not they'd like to merge with him, and so on. 5 thought that was weird as Hell and said no. But his companions said yes.

This resulted in 5 distancing from them since they're "not my friends anymore", and "I don't even know them anymore". And from then on, he resented the idea of merging, and that damned "Joe 1" for being so Goddamn happy. What's he all smiley about, he thought. The fucker.

But at least he still had his school. His empty, ghost town of a school. He quickly realized he couldn't live alone in that so he started staying in a tiny apartment, which quickly became a mess because of his plummeting self-worth. If only he'd just gone with everyone else, this could've been avoided, he also thought. It's his punishment for going against the grain. Being different. Maybe even "defective". Well shit, let's be defective. Why not.

He would have his code and model changed so that his hair would grow naturally. Somewhere in his reasons for this was needing to feel responsible for something, so he wouldn't completely fall apart. And maybe having it would make him feel better, whether about himself, in general, or both. He recalled that he considered asking his player about it in the past, but never got the nerve. Better late than never, he tried to rationalize. That's what people say to forgive themselves, right?

But the shoulder-length he requested (and wavy to boot, he didn't realize he had that...) spiraled out of control and now reaches his waist. Of course he couldn't keep up the end of the deal he put upon himself. It really needs the trim, but he couldn't be assed to try, and it disgusts him. The only good thing was how it never tangled. Game magic shit or whatever. But regardless of that, he looked like a cryptid, and he felt like one too.

At this point, his only comforts was TV, eating, and sleeping. He didn't need to do the last two obviously, but it gave him something to do, a distraction. When he ate, he could focus on the taste and nothing else. When he slept, he would stop being able to drown in his thoughts, welcomed instead into nothingness. When he watched TV, it numbed him enough to stop caring.

But even in his lowest moments, he refused to give in to his old addiction of... That. Diving back into it would truly mean the end had come. He'd rather be tortured to the brink before he had a sip again. Even now. Especially now.

He rarely ever left the apartment, kept the lights off, curtains to the balcony closed, and didn't allow visitors. He rarely ever left his bed, in fact. Sometimes he'd lie there and daydream about leaving. To where? Who knows. But this place was so painful to live in because everyone else has it great and he's got nothing so it's like... Just leave. But where?

He'd ponder it. Maybe just go out that tunnel and see where the Internet busses take him. Leave it up to fate. Maybe he'll find a nice little NeoCities domain. That whole area's so fuckin' large, there had to be a place where even 5, a worthless piece of shit, could fit right in! Yeah...

But he never gets out of bed. Out of the apartment. To the entrance tunnel. To the bus stop. To NeoCities. He just lies there, thinking about it. And nothing happens.

One day, he realized he was running out of food. The only reason he'd ever leave his trash heap of an apartment. By this point it was a matter of looking presentable enough to go out into that bright, colorful, vapid world crafted by that... Uh, mask man, and his spooky associates. Or keep staring at the dump that is 5's living space and contemplate if he could live without the sensation of eating. He still had his two other trusty vices, is it okay to lose one?

But, fuck. He loved the instant noodles. The frozen meals. The rice cups he could drizzle a little soy onto. And all the other kinds of convenient, packaged stuff. Goddammit.

So, he stepped around the trash, and next he knew, he was out the door. Fine. Fine. Fine! He'll get so much, he'll never have to come out again!

But as soon as he was outside the building, hair almost encasing his torso like a shroud, something shifted. Today's the day he's going to leave. Yeah. He'll get this done, pack up, make a pitstop to Vincent's or whatever pretentious name that supernatural son of a bitch had, flip off the gaudy building, then head straight for the tunnel. If he had time, he might even egg that fucking place!

This is it! God, it'd been so long since he was excited. Genuinely excited. He wanted to hold onto this forever.

Mood improved, he carried on with his mission. He ignored the other shoppers, checking off everything he picked up from his list. It was one of his first lessons here, because how could anyone remember everything they needed? He sure couldn't.

Things were going fine, until... He bumps into someone. Baldina. And she single-handedly became the craziest thing to happen to him.

He barely recalled the conversation, but it led to her hiring him as an assistant at her school, despite his clear lack of qualifications. It seemed that like Mr. Strobe-bow-skis, she too had plenty of people under her thumb, in numerous positions. A whole network of them.

One of which, 5 got to meet while struggling pitifully with the coffee machine, just seconds away from having a breakdown right then and there. This guy called himself, er, "I'm never"? But one word. Okay sure whatever. And in spite of 5's threatening tones and verbiage, Imnever was patient enough to show him how to use the brewer. Even informed him of how Baldina takes her coffee.

So what's Imnever's story? Oh, he teaches art here. He's more of an animator by trade, but this suited him just fine. Huh. Well, still more impressive than anything 5's ever accomplished.

The three of them became friends. He wasn't sure how that was possible, but finally he had a reason to go outside more often, instead of stewing in his own suffering for weeks at a time. In fact, slowly that poor excuse of an apartment turned into something a little more decent. It wasn't super tidy, but if Imnever, Baldina, or both wanted to visit, finally 5 could and would allow it.

It got to a point where, one morning, they surprised him with a present. A motorcycle. Apparently the two had taken his daydreaming musings seriously, about how cool it would be to have one. Also, 5 had forgotten what day it was - his birthday.

He cried. He couldn't possibly accept this. He didn't know how to ride it. He'd ruin it or hurt someone. All the classic, self-depreciating excuses he was told he was using.

But, as Imnever said, what you don't know, you fear. Once you do, you don't. Frankly that sounded confusing, and yet, these types of phrases helped him get this far, so... Just accept the damn thing.

The helmet was really cool, but he had so much hair that it wouldn't be able to fit. At long last, he got the trim he had desperately needed; up to just below the shoulders. But Baldina did it for him. Almost ironic, but at this point, who cares?

He forgot how light his head felt after the excess was cut down. It was a nice feeling.

Once he actually tried to overcome that fear of failure and took the chance to learn something, he was surprisingly quick on the uptake. And before long, he was zooming down streets in that badass chopper of his.

Maybe the Webspace isn't actually so horrible. But, thinking that, he reminisced about that day, where he was so sure he was gonna leave this domain behind and start over somewhere else. He slowed to a stop in front of Infinite School or something like that. Hm...

And he gave that treacherous high-rise building the bird, laughing manically as he drove onward. Of course he was going to stick around nowadays, but it still felt right to do. And boy was it worth it.

Life here had finally looked up for 5. Until, well... The demon showed up. But that's a whole other fuckin' story.

[inamindfarfaraway]

It's both funny and increasingly annoying to me when Hatchetfield fans associate Bill with Blinky, the way Paul is associated with Pokey and Ted with Tinky, but leave out Alice. She was there in Watcher World too! Her eyes were also purple! She was also controlled to try to kill her family! There is no way you can think of “Watcher World” without remembering Alice's equal involvement in Blinky's scheme.

I'd argue that she's a much better fit for Blinky's special human. He forms a grudge against her for insulting and disobeying him ("Fuck you, Blinky", "You'll be sorry"), just like Pokey's fixation on Paul because he defied him. She has a theme of watching going on herself, in contrast to Bill's naivety and obliviousness: being perceptive enough to notice the creepy, suspicious elements of Watcher World; trying to use observation as a tool to control Deb's behaviour, Blinky's modus operandi (though I personally like to believe that Deb didn't actually cheat and Blinky was tricking her); and having a connection with social media in general, which Blinky is thematically similar to and embodies the worst, most harmful elements of. She's deeply self-conscious, concerned with her reputation to her peers and has an anxiety disorder. She’s always worrying about how people see her and feels pressured to act in certain ways by that, which is exactly what Blinky wants in his prey, just like how Linda is Nibby's ideal hungry Honey Queen. She's interested in theatre and wants to be a playwright, to write shows where people will passively watch characters struggle and suffer for their own entertainment. Blinky creates live plays too - he even proudly says “Welcome to the show!" when the father and daughter's duel begins. She knows how to manipulate people by showing them what they want to see, giving her script draft a tragic ending for the queer main characters that's more likely to get it accepted in the discriminatory industry, when in fact she wants to change the ending once she has more power.

And she alone defeats her Lord in Black. Pokey assimilates Paul. Tinky breaks and owns Ted. Nibbly consumes Linda. Wiggly completely enslaves Linda and leads her to her death, and Wiley is unshakeable from his allegiance to him. But Alice? She overcomes the mind control, pushes through her panic attack, shoots Bliklotep in his all-seeing eye and goes home with her dad. And lets go of her independent issues with perception and image by putting down her phone.

She is so much like Blinky, and so much his perfect victim. Except that she wants happy endings. For the characters in her stories, for herself and for the people she loves. And she has the strength to make them come true. She's Blinky's equal and opposite. The hero to his villain. She can do everything he can, on a human scale, but she believes in happy endings.

I know the fandom likes the 'CCRP eldritch horrors’ favourites gang', and that is fun. But give Alice the respect she deserves! I see her as Blinky's Ted while Bill is his Pete; also a valued toy, but more by proxy than in his own right.