#either that or write ���. but i draw more

[alicetallulafandomstuff]

You do know... Ships are... Fictional characters ?!

You bashing people for playing with their dolls too ?

Proshippers are standing up for anti-censorship.

Because if you start wanting to monitor what everyone writes or draws because you don't like a couple of things portrayed because it hurts your sensibilities, I'm sorry bud, but there was something of that kind that happened in the 1930s-40s with that mindset.

Either you stand for anti-censorship all the way, and that means even for the stuff you don't like yourself, or you stand up for nothing and you're just faking a moral high ground to be able to put other people down regarding fiction in this instance.

(Let's not mention people writing or drawing fiction that is borderline to deal with their own trauma)

And I wasn't thinking about ships with adults and minors, you went there.

My mind went to people bashing others because they have a ship the first group doesn't like because of a character in said ship they hate. Hence the NOTP concept.

(But that's okay, I noticed more and more people seem to have less and less reading comprehension skills, but do tend to go for outrage and the emotional side of things to rally people to their cause, instead of taking a moment and try to think logically and critically about shit now.)

You don't like something ? Don't interact with it ?! Curate your timelines ? Mute ? Block ?

And yeah, proshippers do stand for more than "weird kinks", anti-censorship, no harassement of any kind, scroll and move on, your kink is not my kink and that's okay... yadda yadda.

Someone had to say it

[sultrysparkles]

PATCH UP DUTY! ༉‧₊˚.

synopsis: your shinobi boyfriend got hurt on a mission, and luckily for them their trusty girlfriend is here to help! (mentions of wounds and blood, SFW) FT. Gaara, Naruto, Sasuke, and Shikamaru

a/n: finally im back!! missed writing more than I expected lol also sorry naruto fans I didn't know what to do with him really!! (⁠ ⁠≧⁠Д⁠≦⁠)

☆ SILENCE. (FT. GAARA)☆

"You don't have to do this, (Y/N)." Gaara murmurs, resting his arm on the table. You ignore his comment, unraveling a roll of gauze. Sitting there patiently, he watches as you carefully formulate your supplies with precision.

Grabbing a chair next to him, you begin to treat his wound. A large slash down his forearm, yet shallow enough to not cause any substantial issues. But the bleeding alone was enough to make you pout.

Meticulously dabbing a cloth over his wound, not a single word escapes from either one of you. Steady breathing fills the empty silence, a comforting phenomenon that always came along with Gaara. He wasnt the type to speak unless he had to, even then his sentences remained short and meaningful.

Picking up a swab coated in sterile saline, then patting it along the gash, You glance up to check Gaara for any signs of discomfort, an instinct that came along with treating injuries.

Suddenly, your rhythmic movements halt abruptly.

Your eyes meet.

For a moment neither of you move. His cold teal eyes grasp yours, indecipherable but fierce. Almost like he was studying you, memorizing the way your eyebrows furrowed with concentration, the way your eyes squint slightly as you focus. There's no falter nor embarrassed look away—only fixed tranquility.

He still doesn't look away.

Gaara isn't the type of person to shy away when he's caught staring, especially if it's something he's infatuated by. Instead his gaze intensifies, as if he's trying to understand something—himself. Why does he feel this odd warmth in his chest every time he's around your vicinity? Why does his heart slow but his breathing quicken as soon as he feels your delicate touch? It's all so new to him.

You catch a glimpse of something that crosses his face. Although hard to catch, you still caught it. A rare tenderness he rarely allowed himself to show.

"...Does it hurt?" You ask gently.

Immediately, his lips part, like he wants to say something. But instead, he simply shakes his head "No. It's fine."

However, his eyes still haven't let you go. At least not yet. Not until you look away first, flustered by his silent potency. And even then, he's still watching, his thoughts unsolvable, his heart struggling to make sense of feelings he's never felt before.

☆ BIG BABY! (FT. NARUTO) ☆

"Ow, ow, OW— (Y/N), you're killing me!" Naruto whines throwing his head back like he's just been stabbed in the chest.

You glare at him, pressing the antiseptic soaked rag against the scrape on his cheek. "It's just a tiny scratch, you big baby."

"A tiny scratch?... Do you see the SIZE of this thing? I was fighting for my life out there!" He puffs, pointing at the scrape. You sigh loudly, muttering about how ridiculous he is, Naruto crossing his arms childishly at the comment.

Tossing the rag aside, you grab a glass bottle filled with ointment. "You literally get punched through walls, but this is where you draw the line?" You retort, leaning in closer to spread the ointment more precisely

But unknowingly, you closed in the last bit of space between you two, the lack of air making Naruto's brain go fuzzy. Actually, he was completely frozen. Too stunned to speak. His usual goofy demeanour falters for just a moment, his breath pausing as heat rises to his face. He's blinking rapidly, unsure of where to look. He's lost in the way your fingers gently grasp his jaw, tilting his head slightly backwards. And he's fixated on the pacing of your breathing too, feeling the warm air against his cheek.

Fuck. You were way too close. He swallows hard, "Uh..." He scrambles to find his words, for the first time, the Ultimate Knucklehead Ninja is speechless.

You raise an eyebrow, feigning innocence as if the close proximity wasn't a part of your plan. "What? You were just talking a mile a minute, and now you're quiet?" You spit, lips curled slightly as you spread the thick medication across his cheek.

Naruto quickly averts his gaze, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. "N-Nothing... Just... uh... you must be really focused, huh?" He lets out a nervous chuckle, trying to slow down the sudden pounding in his chest.

Rolling your eyes, you twist the cap back onto the bottle. Adjusting himself on the couch, Naruto tries to retrieve his cool, as if his face weren't a bright tomato red. You continue patching Naruto up, still bickering back and forth with him. Only this time, he seemed to be a bit more jittery and shaky with his responses.

But later, when you're finished and packing away your supplies, you swear you hear him mumble something under his breath. Something that makes you smile not matter how much you stifle it back.

"Man... I think I just feel for you even harder..."

☆ STUBBORNESS (FT. SASUKE) ☆

"I'm fine."

You exhale sharply, ignoring Sasuke's regular resistance. Placing a cloth over the gash and then applying mild pressure, you attempt to stop the bleeding from his neck. "You're bleeding, Sasuke."

He doesn't flinch, nor does he wince. Instead he's just sitting there, stuff but compliant. His arms are crossed, like this whole situation was just some minor inconvenience. Of course. It wasn't unusual for Sasuke to act so detached, always pretending to be unaffected yet his body always said the opposite.

You shake your head, "Just let me help, okay?"

Sasuke sighs through his nose, but doesn't dispute with you any further. That was the most compliance you'll ever get out of him.

The wound on his neck wasn't deep, simply messy. Dried blood strips near the opening, and despite his bluffed collectiveness, you could tell he's exhausted. It wasn't uncommon to see Sasuke injured, oftentimes training tirelessly, or engaging with enemies he underestimated way too much. But this time, you could tell he wasn't just worn out physically.

Too lost in your thoughts, you accidentally prod the cloth a bit too harshly, making him tense up for a moment. Not a flinch, but you swore you heard his breath quietly hitch.

"Sorry," you murmur.

Sasuke though, doesn't say anything. But as you continue, grabbing other materials, you treat his wounds with extra care. Fingers grazing his skin with gentleless, you begin to notice something. His breathing slows. His once taut shoulders are now relaxed under your touch.

He isn't just tolerating this, but he's allowing it.

There's something strangely intimate about this silence. Perhaps it's the way, you're the only one he lets close like this.

Then you feel it. His gaze locked on you.

Holding the gauze in your hand, you pause.

"Sasuke?"

But still, no answer.

You peek up at him, expecting his eyes to rush away like they always do, but he doesn't. His distant black eyes are now fixated on you, unreadable, steady, yet softer than usual. They lacked their usual sharpness, but instead grew of quiet observation.

The sight sends your heart into your throat.

"...What?" You ask, voice barely above a whisper.

He blinks, laggard and calculated. His lips part ever so slightly, like he's about to speak but he doesn't. Instead, after a moment, he exhales and mutters, "Nothing."

Taking in his answer, you continue on with patching him up. But his gaze lingers, still focused on you. Even after you finish patching him up. Because as he stands to leave, his lips part open again, like there's something on his chest that's dying to come out.

And then, he turns away, his voice—low and nearly inaudible.

"...You don't have to worry about me so much."

☆ GENTLE (FT. SHIKAMARU) ☆

"This is such a drag..."

Shikamaru groans, resting his head against the wall as you kneel beside him, tending to the slash across his chest. He's always complaining and always acting like everything takes up so much of his precious energy. But he hasn't moved an inch since you've started.

"You say that like I'm the one who got you hurt," you mutter, blotting a rag over his wound.

A long and slow breathe escapes his lungs, "Tch. Guess that's fair."

His voice is low and sluggish, like sitting here was simply exhausting. Despite having a fresh injury, he seems to be half asleep. Typical. You should've expected him to act like this was more tiring than the actual fight.

"Hold still," you say, pressing a bandage against his skin tightly.

Shikamaru doesn't even flinch. Doesn't really react at all, really—except for the way his eyes flicker downwards watching the way your fingers dance over his chest, you brows knitting together in silent concentration.

You don't notice at first, only until the silence begins to grow way too suspicious.

You glance up, only for him to be looking back at you.

You waver, gripping the roll of bandage.

"What?"

But, he only blinks at you, hushed but calculated, unbothered at the fact you just caught him staring. In his eyes, there's no sign of embarrassment nor instant divergence. Just quiet deliberate eyes, like he's studying a foreign topic.

"You're being weird," you comment, focusing your attention to bandaging him up.

Shikamaru's lips twitch into a lazy smirk. "Nah. Just thinking."

"Thinking about what?"

He pauses, and so do you. His eyes dart towards something—not away but lower, to where your hands are still resting on his chest, rising up and down as he breathes.

"You're pretty gentle," he murmurs.

Your breath catches to the back of your throat. But before you can respond, he leans his head back again, shutting his eyes like he's done speaking.

Shaking off the unexpected heat in your cheeks, you huff "You say that like you expected me to be rough."

"Didn't say that," He mutters, eyes still shut.

"Then?"

He exhales a small tired sigh. And then without opening his eyes:

"I think I could get used to this"

Your hands still for half a second, but he doesn't say anything else. Instead he lets the silence between you two settle, as if it were meant to be there.

And when you finally pull back, he doesn't move right away.

Like he's in no rush to leave your touch.

[dcxdpdabbles]

#holiday request Hi, I love your writing! Could you please update either "Danny's grill", "Congratulations! It's Triplets!" or "Phantom's number 1 fan"? Please and thank you

Jason is once again reviewing the map of potential areas Alvin could have been operating in when his burner phone rings. He snatches it up before it can pass the fourth ring, pressing it gently against his ear.

He offers no greeting. It's a tactic he uses to ensure that whoever is calling him has permission to do so. If someone attempts to conform his informants' and allies connection with him, Jason is not about to give them away by speaking first.

"Hey Boss," Honeycomb's voice filters through, edged by that familiar overdramatic southern draw she did when working. Apparently, the clients like listening to her use her accent. "I got eyes on that doll you've been searching for."

Jason sits up straighter. "Where and when?"

Honeycomb is one of the working girls who's been with him since his return to Gotham. She was the first to sign up for his protection, long before he did the whole heads in a duffle bag thing, and was one of his best eyes and ears on the street in exchange.

He didn't know her real name or age- but he was sure she wasn't underage. He made it clear he wouldn't allow it. All Jason knew about Honeycomb was that she had run away from her home in the southern states with nothing but her pretty face, blond curls, hazel eyes, and the clothes on her back.

She was feisty and could charm her way out of most problems with her silver tongue. Her manipulation of her clients was almost an art form, and she could get any information out of anyone with a well-placed hand on the air and a sweet little "darling" on her grubby lips. He often thought she would have been a lawyer if life had been fair to her.

"Just now, on Ruby Street. He was with a man in his late teenage to early twenties. About six feet five inches, black hair, blue eyes, and Caucasian. Alvin was wearing black tights and a red hoodie. The man is in jeans and a white zip-up." Honeycomb rattles in one smooth report, the huskiness of her accent making her articulation more pleasant to the ear. "Seems they were doing a photo shoot."

Jason is already moving towards his bike, switching her call to his helmet. His stomach turns slightly as he grunts, "What kind of photoshoot?"

"Not that kind, Darling. Seemed more like a scavenger hunt, according to Alvin. They are finding specific landscapes and making posses that are answers to some riddles." Honeycomb responds. Distantly, her heels clicking against the concrete echo a little louder, letting Jason know she has wandered into an alley. "I approached Alvin when the man with him went up a fire escape to take a picture with a gargoyle. I offered him my service to him as a cover. Once he confirmed his name was Alvin and he was already with a client, I left before he could get the idea I was attempting to steal his work."

"Good job." Jason boots up his bike, flying out of his hideout without hesitation. He was still twenty minutes away from Ruby Street, but if the pair was going to be a moment, he could close the distance between them and find a trail to follow once on scene.

He questions as he flies through two lanes, ignoring the honking of angry divers. "How did Alvin look? He's supposed to be with one of my contacts, so if he's with someone, it might be a John roughing him up."

I'll deal with Victorian later. He mentally swears How dare he not tell me, Alvin went back to the field after hiding out for so long without a ounce of protection.

"The sweetheart doesn't seem hurt, but I can tell his client is one of those problematic kinds." Honeycombs sighs, the edges of unease slipping into her voice. "He looks at Alvin like he's in love."

Shit. It's never suitable for working folks to meet someone who "loves" them. Nine out of ten times, it was just a wacko who became violent the moment the prostitute so much as hinted that this was only a job to them. Jason had pulled out three women's bodies from the Brown River the last time one of those clients fell in love.

Jason pressed harder on the accelerator. "Are they still there?"

Honeycomb hums "The John is on the roof now, but Alvin is waiting for him under the street pole-Oh shit!"

Jason nearly slams into a nearby car at her sudden yell. "What happened?"

She doesn't answer, but he can pick up the sound of her running and her fast breathing. He knows she is getting out of danger because if there is one thing Honeycomb is as a person, she's a survivor. He wants answers but would rather she focus on getting herself safe first.

He meanwhile, concentrates on the phone calls and the vehicles he's flying between.

It's a few minutes before she gasps. "Sorry, Darling, I had to run. Batman was on the roof with the John."

What.

"Batman just appeared out of nowhere and threw a bucket of mud at the john. Alvin didn't seem to notice, but I did. Batman made eye contact with me, so I ran." She concludes, pushing through her uneven breathing. "I have to go, Darling. Hideout before the Bats lock me up."

"That's alright. Stay safe." Jason tells her, taking a turn sharply as she hangs up the call without another word. The second she does, he double-taps his helmet to connect to the Bat communications.

"Barbie. I need to know what B is up to now."

_________________________________________________________

Bruce watches the Fae shake the mud out of his face after he has scrambled down the fire escape. Tim was at his side in a second, using a handkerchief to gently clean up the Fae's face.

There were a lot of whispered words, but based on what Bruce could pick up from lip reading, Tim had no idea he was up here. He just assumed the Fae got caught up in a juvenile prank.

Oddly enough, that was primarily due to the Fae covering for Bruce.

It was rather disappointing the repealing spell hadn't worked, but the Justice League Dark the mixture of John's Wort, primroses, and marsh marigolds mushed together with water socked in iron during the full moon should have made it possible to force the contact with Tim to break down.

Of course, this had been a desperate attempt, seeing as all the JL Dark had been unsure which method was best when he asked how to get a Fae to leave a human alone.

A lot of debate went into finding a solution, but in the end, Bruce had chosen a mixture repellent. He had even decided to use some holy water and trough in blessed soil and blessed iron just to make it extra powerful.

The magic users had all assured him it would work as long as it touched the Fae skin while Bruce chanted Tim's full legal name. It had felt rather ridiculous dragging a bucket half the size of himself through the city, trying to spot where Tim and his companion were, and even more so when he had sprinted across the rooftop screaming.

"Timothy Jackson Drake! Timothy Jackson Drake! Timothy Jackson Drake!"

The Fae had been in the middle of taking a photo. He set up his camera on a little tripod and, after pressing the time, had run to face the city- back facing Bruce- raising his arms to form a triangle above his head. Based on fact the camera was slightly lower then the Fae's torso, Bruce could deduct her was attempting to capture himself making the triangle top of one of the most iconic buildings in Gotham.

Spear tower.

He waited only long enough for the flash to go off, so by the time the Fae turned around, he had a face full of mud.

It splat all over his front, covering every inch of what should have set Tim free. The silence followed was louder than anything Bruce had ever heard, even as the Fae calmly picked up his camera and scurried to the ground.

Bruce let him go, wondering why he had failed. Thankfully, it seemed Tim and the Fae were getting back in their car- not the food truck for some reason- and were driving away.

Tonight, Bruce would find its lair and get his son home because letting him take a relaxing vacation was alarming to the rest of his children.

He rushed to the Batmobile, climbing into the driver seat and taking off after the pair. As he was driving, he could have sworn Jason just passed by him, moving like the devil was after him.

Bruce wondered briefly if he should check in on his third oldest but thought better of it when he noticed Cass, Dick, and Duke driving right behind Jason on their own bikes. His children had each other backs.

A few hours later, Bruce stood before a large empty field. He had watched the Fae drive into it and vanish from sight. None of his machines could pick up any hint on where they might have gone, but he was reasonably sure there wasn't any teleportation involved.

Sometimes teleportation left some traces in the airwaves. It's how Bruce could track people using the boom tub or find the Flash whenever Barry went on a craze.

Bruce was thinking that this was the Fae's court and his magical home was being protected by supernatural means. He just had to figure out how to get in and Tim out.

As he was considering the field, a soft, distant roar made him reach for his weapons. He turns one hand poise for a throw, his trusted batarangs in between his fingers, only to become surprised when he recognizes the vehicles driving towards him.

It was his spare Batmobile and four bird-themed motorbikes. His children.

"B?" Dick questions after spinning to a stop and sliding right in front of Bruce. He lowers his window, looking at him with apparent confusion despite the Nightwing mask blocking his eyes. "What are you doing here?"

"Following a lead on the Fae. What are you doing here?" Bruce asks, lowering his arm but keeping his weapon. He could never be too sure this isn't a trick.

"Following a lead on Tim." Dick responds, stepping out of his car. Two other doors open, and out steps Steph and Damian, both looking posed for a fight. Of all his children, those two tend to be the most territorial and have not taken to Tim being a semi-held hostage well. "Oracle was able to track him through the city cameras after he popped up taking photos."

"hmm"

Jason jogged over to them with Cass not far behind. "Wait,, you got a lead on your cases too? We would check in on Victorian and see if he knew anything about Alvin."

He gestures to those behind him, indicating Cass and Duke, but the daytime hero is not paying attention. Duke was staring at the field, mouth slightly open as if in awe. Bruce straightens once he realizes Duke can probably see or at least detect the magical castle.

"Victorian?" Damian asks, crossing his arms. "Who is that?"

"The owner of the giant mansion we're standing in front of. He's one of my contacts."

"Ugh, not to make you feel crazy, Hoodie," Steph speaks up, placing a hand on the crook of her hip and waving her hand to the field. "But there is literally nothing there

"What are you talking about. This place is bigger than Wayne Manor."

Bruce heard about this. Guests who have been here before or have permission to enter can see glimpses of the Otherworld that Fae deals in. However, it is surprising to know Jason has already been in contact with the Fae before and has not been kept.

Did that throw a wrench in his theory of Tim and Alvin being the same person? Why would the Fae ask Jason to find Tim if he was in the creature's home?

Before anyone could say anything else, a giant gate entrance suddenly manifested mere feet from where Bruce stood. A soft creek was heard as it was thrown open, and a glowing woman in an old mail outfit floated just a foot off the ground on the other side. She eyed them all in an eerie, emotionless face before bending her own into a low bow. "Welcome. My King wishes to invite you in."

Well, that's not ominous at all.

His children shared a look between them, silently letting each other know to be cautious as they followed the floating woman. She led them down an impressive driveway that slowly gave way to a massive mansion.

Bruce fought to keep the surprise off his face. Jason was right. This place was more prominent and grander than his manor. It didn't just scream wealth. It screamed nobility; it screamed royalty.

The group walked into the main hall, some muttering thanks to the bowing woman who opened the doors. "Of course. The King stated that his home would always be open to Master Alvin's kin."

She vanished from sight like mist fading away as soon as they crossed the doorway.

Bruce's eyes instantly landed on the figure standing atop the grand stairs. Tim was gawking at them, wearing nothing but a long, seductive black robe with fluffy collars and wrists. The front of the rob was open, displaying a large amount of chest and thigh, but keeping the significant bits out of sight.

Thankfully.

His skin was glowing, his hair tussled stylishly, and a dozen red roses were in his hands. Tim looked like he was planning a romantic evening in his get-up.

"Oh," He said dumbly. "You're not Danny."

"What the fuck is going on" Jason demanded after a long period of silence.

"Um...I was planning on seducing my friend. What are you all doing?"

"Regretting waking up this morning," Damian demands, pressing a hand over his eyes. "Please get decent. My nightmares are horrid enough."

Bruce nods. "You were Alvin Draper and are romantically involved with the Fae. He seems to be treating you well. That's good."

All of his children stared at him for a long moment before the hall erupted with displeased noises. Bruce was taken aback.

Did none of them know any of this? It seemed obvious to him.

[kianamaiart]

Not an ask more a vent, sorry, feel free to ignore. Love your work and PPPIDWTBAMG looks wonderful, am looking forward to the pilot and wish you all the success

sometimes... Being a creative person, hurts. Hurts in ways I still don't come to expect despite being in my 30s. I love seeing people succeed and I love being inspired to make more things myself. But some times, I just kind of, end up with some one thing creative, that I really love and have nowhere to put it... and I just keep getting reminded that I don't. The idea still, gives me joy, but it also, hurts. Like holding, desperately, onto a piece of coal that refuses to cool. And I'm reminded of that idea a lot, looking at idwtbamg. and I hate that it hurts, and I hate that I associate that hurt with your wonderful idea, and I want your idea to succeed. and so I hold the idea tighter... and it hurts, and it brightens my day, and I look forward to your amazing work, and all the fan works born from it.

i understand the feeling for sure

sorry if this is unsolicited advice (i don't want it to come off as toxic positivity or too sunshiny either) but i don't think you should get hung up on the "nowhere to put it" part. the thing about the internet is that, for better or worse lol, you can put anything on it!

make your project! write it out, draw it out, act it out, sing it out. then post it! this project as well as a lot of indie projects is in response to networks not picking up a lot of animated shows these days so people are taking their ideas into their own hands and sharing it with the world in different ways

doesn't hurt to try~

[dreamersparacosm]

jeon jungkook - bad intentions

warnings ; nsfw (18+!!!!!!), unprotected sex

prompt ; in which a TikTok edit sparks a desire to get absolutely destroyed by your boyfriend.

note ; hey… heyyyy *opens door* um idk what this is but I’m back with a new fandom and this random piece of writing. this is my formal request to join the bts fandom pls xoxo i promise im fun and can write hellish smut

It’s cruel that you live with someone as attractive as your boyfriend.

It’s even more evil that the world posts TikTok edits of your boyfriend to seductive songs that make your underwear soak through with arousal.

All that to say, you’re not really making your life any easier by watching every single one that stumbles across your For You Page.

You have been better. It was a slow Sunday: one where your boyfriend sits perched on your shared living room couch, mindlessly playing with his lip ring as he watches some Netflix show. It’s nice having him like this, all for you, in a space you two built for yourselves. But you, you’re in the bedroom, aimlessly scrolling through an app that has taken up more than enough of your time and perfectly curated content about your boyfriend and this silly little band he’s in.

But it’s when, and only when, you stumble across an edit of your boyfriend to a The Weeknd song, that you shoot up in your bed, blink rapidly, inhale a sharp breath. Your heart catches in your throat, does that stupid little flutter thing. And then.. the clench that follows down below. You replay it once, twice… a third time.

Don’t be weird. Do not be thirsty.

But, he is yours. That much, you do know.

You close the app, delete the page off your phone. It’s not like you two have a boring sex life, he takes care of you and you never feel dissatisfied. In fact it’s rather the opposite. This one time being two nights ago when he had your legs up on… never mind. You look at your black phone screen in disgust. Do not be a horny little freak.

Well, one last look at the edit won’t hurt.

You go back to the fan edit. Glance at it, slap your hand over your face, peek through your middle and ring finger. Fuck.

The arousal that had pooled before in your underwear was now a full-on ocean. Really, you should have more decorum than this. You don’t really want to bother Jungkook, he’s had a busy week with the boys… but it also has been two days since you two have had sex.

Fuck it.

You swing your legs off the bed, shuffle down the hallway of your apartment. You spot your boyfriend lounging on the couch, his back to you. Even from where you stand, you can see his build, his biceps.. Gosh. You sound like a hormonal teenage girl.

You creep up behind him, wrap your arms around his neck and press a few sloppy kisses down it. His hand flies up to caress your arm that’s hung around his neck, a little laugh leaving his mouth, “Well, hello to you too.”

You decide then and there in that moment: You’re going to die if you don’t have him. Maybe that’s a little dramatic, but you’ve lost all strength.

“Hi,” your voice is frail, weak even, as you kiss along his jaw. He sucks in a deep breaths, fingers drawing circles on your arm. His eyes are glued to the television screen like if he looks anywhere else, he might combust.

You detach your arms from around him, moving to the front, blocking his perfect view of the screen. He looks up at you with those doe eyes you love so damn much. One look at you and he gathers quickly there will be no more watching of television.

With little words, you straddle him, knees on either side of his thighs. Jungkook feels up your thighs, smirks a little, “What did I do to earn this right now?”

You are well aware of how needy and desperate you look right now, but that doesn’t matter. You let out a little sigh, pushing your lips onto his. For some reason, you feel like some little fangirl who is hooking up with her celebrity crush. The cold metal from his lip ring is a welcomed feeling, and you place your hands on his neck, feeling the structure and heat of his skin. God, you are going to cum just from this kiss if you keep it up.

Pulling away a little, you look into his eyes, “Nothing specifically… I just…”

You sigh, go back in to kissing him again. Those plump pink lips of his work against yours, shivers running down your spine as he runs his hands up and down your bare thighs. “Just what, baby?” He speaks in a low tone in between the incessant kissing.

“I’m so fucking horny,” You admit.

Upon the minute those words leave his mouth, you feel his cock begin to press against your inner thigh. You’ve got him right where you want him. And it’s not that this isn’t normal; it is. But you’ve essentially offered yourself up to him on a silver platter and the act of desperation you got going on right now is really doing it for him.

“Hmm?” He hums against your lips, his hands roaming underneath your shirt to trace your spine. And you could marry him right now for being so quick to go along with it. For not pushing you, for letting you set the pace.

You start to grind yourself down on him, the wetness soaking through your pajama shorts you have on. It is criminal how much you need this man inside of you, now. “What do you need from me, baby?” He starts to kiss down your neck as light whimpers exit your throat from the friction of your shorts on his grey sweatpants.

“N-nothing,” You exhale out. “Let me ride you.”

“Fuck.” He groans out.

“You need me that bad?” He brushes a strand of hair off your shoulder, kisses down your supple skin.

“Yes, please,” Your voice cracks. You can’t take it anymore; you think you might combust into a million little pieces.

“Well, go on, my love,” He removes his lips from your skin, smirks, sits back against the couch. “Have me.”

He does not need to tell you twice. There’s no time for pleasantries. You move your legs off his, lower down his sweatpants enough for you to be able to access his boxers. You kick off your shorts, leaving the underwear on; there’s not a single shred of a fuck left in you.

Jungkook is sat there, an amused look plastered on his face, mixed with a level of adoration you are not sure you have seen before. His arms have moved, now splayed out across the top of the couch, his biceps flexing. You straddle him again, remove his throbbing cock from the confines of his boxers. Fuck, if you weren’t so ready for him, you would’ve taken him into your mouth.. but alas, no time to waste.

You push your panties to the side, rub your juices over his length. He lets out a little moan at that, watches you eagerly get ready to take him whole.

With a gasp, you align him to your entrance in search of relief. You engulf him, take him in inch by inch until you bottom out. Honestly, you could unravel just from that. “Holy fuck, baby,” His head falls back, eyes still glued to the sight of you fully taking him to the brim.

You never really do get used to how big he is; when you two first started dating, he stretched you out so wide you were certain you would never recover. Your bottom lip is sucked in between your top teeth, rushed exhales leaving your body as you slowly begin to move, begin to gyrate your hips and lift yourself up and down on his pulsing cock. “Oh my god,” You breathe out, hands moving to his broad chest, gripping onto him to steady yourself

He’s not doing much, besides just watching you in complete and utter awe, and yet that still takes your breath away. “You look so unbelievably sexy right now,” He says, barely even realizing the words leave his mouth, since they were mostly meant for his inner thoughts. His hands come around to land on your hips, the pads of his fingers pressing into the bone. There will definitely be a bruise there tomorrow.

You lull your head back, close your eyes tight. It’s all you can do to try and keep yourself together. You’re an absolute mess right now; pussy squelching with each stroke, his cock a mix of yours and his arousal. The only sounds that can be heard in the apartment are the slapping of skin and the moans that continually leave both of your mouths. “[Y/N]…” He moans out. You look at him, deep in those eyes that you love so much.

And there’s such… desire on his face, his pupils blown wide, his jaw slack. He is so undeniably hungry for you, and it’s going to kill you. You speed up your bounces, losing a little more control with each and every passing moment. Your arms snake around his neck, pull him even closer to you. “Fuck, I am so close,” You whisper out, mostly to calm yourself down.

“Yeah?” Is the only word he can muster right now. “Need you to cum for me. Want to make sure you’re taken care of.”

It is all so filthy; the sounds, the look he’s giving you, the way your nails are digging into the flesh of his neck and leaving marks. Your half-lidded eyes meet his, gaze dropping down to his lips. You press a few sloppy kisses on them.

“You like this, hmm?” he asks, fingers digging even deeper into your hip bones that you’re certain he is leaving an imprint on your skull. “Having me like this ready for you? Does that get you off?”

His words elicit a clench around his cock, your walls tightening around him. He is absolutely correct. He knows he’s hit the mark. “Talk to me.” His tone is soft but threatening.

“Y-yes, it does. Oh my god, Kook..” You can barely think, any singular thought beside how incredible his cock feels inside you, how you can feel him penetrate your stomach with his entire length. “I’m gonna cum.”

It’s so close, it’s teetering on the edge. Every nerve ending in your body craves him to a point where you wonder if you need to be institutionalized. All you can see is that stupid edit made by that fan flash across your head, your brain unable to comprehend that that is the man you currently have inside of you. “Cum for me, darling..” He coos.

It nearly wrecks you, this orgasm. It washes over your entire being and you’re so loud you’re certain your neighbors will come knocking down your door. Your bounces go from focused to frantic, hips gyrating wildly, and he wraps an arm around your entire waist, picking you up lightly. He begins thrusting into you at a shallow, quick pace, chasing after his own release. Jungkook lets out a few grunts, eyes trained on the sight in front of him; and then he shudders, his cock throbs inside of you, head falling onto your shoulder as he feels himself empty out inside of you. You’re struggling to catch your breath, gripping onto the hair at the nape of his neck.

“My god..” You breathe out. You’re still sitting on him, cock warm inside you as he lifts his head from your shoulder, meets your fucked-out face.

“Baby, that was so incredibly hot, you have no idea,” His face is flushed, hand reaching up to caress your cheek. You entwine your arms and legs around him, holding him close, drawing him deeper into you. You stay there, hearts pounding in unison, as if they're each trying to break free from your chests, desperate to draw nearer. And still, even in this perfect closeness, you long to feel him even closer.

“Mhmm,” You hum out, quite content with yourself. You press a soft kiss to his lips.

“So… care to share what made you jump my bones?” He teases, pressing another kiss to your lips.

“Oh, nothing…” You act coy, but the heat creeps onto your face regardless. He pokes your side, eliciting a giggle from you that has you folding like origami.

“Maybe… just saw a little something on TikTok..” You trace circles on his collarbone, avoiding his gaze.

“Continue.” He presses a kiss to your forehead.

“Some girl made an edit of you..” It’s low when it leaves your mouth, he can barely hear it. “Just wanted to remind myself I can have you.. whenever I like.”

You bury your face into his neck in sheer embarrassment, feeling his warmth and the vibration as he chuckles. “You can have me whenever. I’m yours, baby.”

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

masterlist + request

[inkyrainstorms]

Bottom sketch is based on @aroace-get-out-of-my-face p’s mini-fic bc I had a sudden need to draw more of Martian Stan and also the oil-slick sky desc is so pretty and vivid. She writes Stan so well guys he’s so funny and tired forever

I can’t believe I fucked up both of the twins hands in one(1!) excerpt, pfft. Ahhh narrative parallels and all. the other sketches are either based on Anon being absolutely galaxy brained and mentioning that Ford likely has slept in Stan’s car and takes his cannabalized portal-part-Walkman-radio with him everywhere, or scenes that I’m still writing and haven’t shared yet. Ford’s misery is plentiful eternally I fear

some individuals under cut!

[moonmaiden1996]

Thoughts on first time sex with Shanks? 🙏

OF COURSE I WILL WRITE THIS....I mean I guess I could ;)

One Night with Shanks

Shanks is a manwhore—a rogue who drifts from island to island, drinking and indulging in whoever catches his eye. He isn’t one for romance, not that he wouldn’t be up for it… I can dream.

But tonight? Tonight, you have him.

The dim glow of candlelight flickers aboard the Red Force, shadows dancing across the wooden walls as the scent of salt and aged rum lingers in the air. The heat between you is smoldering, thick with anticipation. His rough, calloused hands—ones that have held a sword, stolen treasures, and commanded the seas—are now devoted entirely to you.

His lips tease at first, barely grazing your skin before tracing a slow, torturous path down your neck. The way he looks at you—intense, laced with mischief and hunger—sends a shiver through your spine.

He’s in no rush. He never is.

He lives for the chase, the build-up, the slow, agonizing unraveling of restraint. He’s going to have you begging, breaking around him.

"Are you sure about this?" His voice is husky, his lips hovering just above yours, teasing, testing your resolve. But the hunger in his gaze betrays his own restraint.

"Sure you want to give yourself to me? You know what they say about pirates—once they have their treasure, they never let go."

When you pull him in, he loses the battle. His kisses grow deeper, more possessive. The weight of his body presses you into the mattress, solid and unyielding. You feel the strength beneath him—years of battle-hardened power barely contained, held back only by his desire to make this first time unforgettable.

His single hand roams expertly over your body, mapping every curve, every reaction. He’s learned to compensate for his missing limb in ways that make your head spin.

"Ready?" he asks, his voice thick with smug amusement. But he doesn’t wait for an answer.

He plunges into you, too impatient to draw it out. Foreplay can wait—that comes later, when he spends his days getting drunk on the nectar between your thighs.

This? This is about making you his woman.

This smarmy, insatiable pirate knows exactly what he’s doing, pushing you toward insanity with relentless precision. When he finds that perfect spot, he doesn’t stop—he works you until you’re writhing, teetering at the edge, only to pull back at the last second, leaving you a whimpering mess.

And that smirk—the damn knowing smirk he wears so well—flickers across his face as he flips you over, letting you take what you need.

"Come on, sweetheart," he drawls, lazy and cocky. "Show me how bad you want it."

Shanks isn’t lazy—he’s strategic. He conserves his energy, making you work for it. He wants to watch you bounce on his cock, tits rising and falling, head thrown back in pleasure while his thumb lazily circles your clit.

And when your climax overtakes you, he relishes the sight—watching you break above him, breathless, legs weak, body marked with evidence of his passion.

As you collapse against him, his chest rumbles with a deep chuckle.

"Well, love," he murmurs, voice thick with satisfaction, "I’d say that was worth the wait."

Lazily, he kisses you, shifting beneath you. But he isn’t done.

"Now… my turn," he purrs, wrapping his arm around you.

His hips snap upward into your soaked core, drawing a gasp from your lips.

And he doesn’t stop—not until he’s completely sated or until you’re crying his name, begging for mercy. Either way, this? This is just the beginning.

But If He Knows You're a Virgin…

Everything changes.

The teasing glint in his eye softens, replaced by something deeper—respect, tenderness, and just a hint of restraint. Shanks may be a rogue, a pirate, a man who takes what he wants, but with you?

He slows down. He savors.

"Ah," he murmurs, his thumb brushing your cheek as he studies your face. "So this is your first time?"

His voice is low, warm—but there’s no mockery. Only a quiet sort of reverence.

"I knew you were something precious."

His fingers skim down your arm, impossibly gentle, despite the way a thick digit is already buried inside you, working you open—one finger, then a second, then a third.

"You sure about this, sweetheart?" he coaxes. But the gleam in his eyes tells you—he has no intention of stopping.

He’s going to work you open nice and slow. Then he’s going to take you. Make you his.

The way he calls you that—sweetheart, soft yet possessive—sends a shiver through your spine. And when you nod, his smile turns dangerous.

"Then I'll make sure it's something you'll never forget."

He takes his time, watching, memorizing every sigh, every arch of your body against his. He cherishes it.

His lips move with unhurried devotion—kissing down your neck, over your collarbone, making you feel wanted. Not just as a conquest, but as something precious.

He learns your body with the skill of a man who’s spent years mastering pleasure. You like your neck kissed and bitten? He lingers. You like your nipples teased? He’s more than happy to oblige.

His single hand—strong, calloused, yet impossibly tender—traces your skin like it’s the rarest treasure he’s ever held.

"Just relax, love," he murmurs, his voice rough with restraint. "Let me take care of you."

And when the moment finally comes, he holds your gaze, letting you see the heat, the control, the silent promise that this is about you.

His forehead presses against yours, his breath ragged but patient.

"If it hurts, tell me. I’ll stop, alright?"

Slowly, he inches in—stretching you, filling you, until he reaches that final barrier and slides in completely.

It hurts at first—he’s thick, large—but he makes sure it doesn’t for long. He’s slow, deliberate, coaxing pleasure from you with skill only a man like Shanks possesses.

And when you finally surrender to the sensations, gasping his name, he groans—his restraint snapping—and he takes you—but never without worshiping you first.

He won’t stop until you’ve come at least twice, his voice thick with satisfaction as he rolls his hips again.

"See?" he murmurs, "Told you I'd make it unforgettable."

He groans as his movements grow sloppy, his release inevitable—until you feel him spill inside you, filling you completely.

With Shanks, your first time isn’t just sex—

It’s the kind of night that lingers—a memory burned into your skin, your heart, your soul.

You belong to him now. Forever

[volturissideslut]

hiii! can I pls request aro and his mate who has a hand kink? like it doesn’t matter where they are, of what they’e doing, she’ll be sat in his lap playing with his hands, and tracing the veins. like actually his hands r so fine, search it up on Pinterest and you will understand my point.

𝕬𝖗𝖔 𝖁𝖔𝖑𝖙𝖚𝖗𝖎

(Nsfw below the cut) I don't need to go on pinterest to know what you're talking about darling, i'm right there with you 😭🫶

Imagine sitting on Aro's lap, it could be in the throne room or anywhere else in the world. Long pale fingers grip onto your thigh like a voce, keeping you grounded on top of him. Your own hand would be on top of his, tracing along the shapes. The bump of his knuckle, a scar on the side, a vein bulging from his wrist to his index finger. His hand is mapped in your mind, you could know it blindfolded, the feel of the tip of his finger faint against your lips while you wait for him.

Imagine being sat next to him, bored and tracing your hands over his. His hand is mapped in your mind, you could know it blindfolded. The feel of the tip of his fingers against your lips from how ofter you kiss at them, the indent in his middle finger from centuries of quills and pens. Flipping his hand over to follow all the lines on his palm. He might even get you one of them palm reading books so he has an excuse to sit there and feel you for longer.

Imagine laying in bed together with Aro spooning you, his arm is thrown over your waist and his hand flat against your lower belly. Butterflies erupt within you, the way you feel his hand stroke at you or how his fingers draw little shapes. He'll trace 'i love you' in old greek and make you guess what he's writing, knowing fully well that you don't know that language yet. His hand would reach up, scratching at your scalp a massaging into your head. He keeps you in pure bliss.

Imagine his fingers shoved down your throat, pushing down on your tongue. He's all consuming when you're in bed together, all you can feel is him, him, and him some more. He loves being above you, making eye contact as you suck on his fingers. You'll gag around him, oh so full, and it just makes him all the more turned on.

Imagine the way his fingers curl inside of you, his thumb circling over the little nub of your clit. His hands are amazing, magical really, the searing pleasure he brings you with those dexterous fingers of his. They may not be thick, but they sure as hell are long, and you can feel every part of them inside of you. Maybe it's the fantasy - your love for them making the white hot feeling coiling in you all the more apparent - or maybe he really is that good. Either way, Aro's fingers are really fascinating to you

[cringe6fail6star6]

Random headcanon: Fanfics/arts edition

Foras reads MC x reader fics online.

As a matter of fact, everyone does, he just has more opportunities.

Sitri does too but he found an search engine extension that changed MCs name to Solomon. Also has a old ass account with specifically longest collection of first Solomon x Reader he commissioned personally from Astaroth.

I feel like Belphegor would commission someone to draw manga about himself n MC. Probably gives good tips too (added by Beleth or Gusion).

Idk why but I think some of them(Leraye n Gehanna gang specifically) have like meetings where they read each other's fanfics. Friendly competition. Like 2 devils always win the writober, guess who those devils r.

Belial probably had an ASMR channel where he did collabs with Astaroth. Now this account is well edited videos of random stuff. Or speedpaints.

N on speedpaints - Bathin loves them. Makes his own but anonymous.

Asmodeous has made his favorite fanfics into a hard cover books. Some of them are already ruined, but no worries, he can make new ones whenever he wants.

Lucifer tried to write a fanfic bc Gamigin got curious about them, but he's writing is just so "biblical" n uses "thy" "thyne" "thee" it was hard to read without a translator.

If MC writes fanfics/draws commissions - every devil will ask for a commission with MC x reader. Only few will go anonymous for this, and probably only for the first time - after that you will draw their face kissing urs.

Oh the shipping wars get uglier than war against angels. And angels aren't exempt from this one either.

Raphael has anon account to commission MC for MC x angel!reader stuff, gets weirdly into details but pays well... Just don't think about where he got money from.

[myokk]

I may not be drawing as much as I normally do this year bc life (🥲) but I feel like I’ve started 2025 strong🥹🙏

Im finally reaching a point where I’m generally happy with the outcomes of these drawinfs, Seb and Eloise are finally how I picture them when I write and IM SO HAPPY WITH THE PROGRESS IVE MADE🥹🫶

Im also trying to do more interesting poses/composition/playing around with the values and contrast etc. maybe some day I’ll work up to backgrounds as well so these fanarts aren’t as boring for you all😆♥️

I didn’t have space to put the comic of my oneshot, note-taking I drew either (WITH BACKGROUNDS♥️) and one pretty nsfw i drew in January🤭 but overall I am quite happy with the fact I started drawing in this style last year and the time I’ve put into it is starting to show🥰

[wanderingwolfwitcher]

Eskel remained where he was topside for the time being, looking through the rain and towards the steadily vanishing Skellige Islands, much smaller in appearance by now. He kept his heightened senses pealed for any signs of sea monsters... even unrelated to their reasons for being here, they were liable to encounter some. Possibly even influenced by the Leviathan or the Great Old One beneath Darkwater Island. He wouldn't put anything as being outside of its ability. There was still the possibility, likelihood, of the involvement of the Deep Ones. As they sailed, it wasn't long before the crew began to sing old, bawdy nautical and whaling tunes as they worked, the Witcher's marred visage smirking at the lyrics and humming along to himself. His instincts told him the crew wasn't likely part of the cult... but he wasn't about to write them off, as yet. He'd survived his share of nasty surprises as it were. Never underestimated anybody. The world was full of capable actors. At some point in the voyage, his medallion hummed... and he believed it came from the book she had taken earlier, opening it. Soon after, he sensed her joining him up on the deck, smelling her perfume over the salty sea air, his viper eyes looking back to find the rain soaked, crimson haired, pale Sorceress drawing near. The evident troubled look on her face she was trying and failing to disguise as she moved to his side and joined him at the railing. His deep, calm voice spoke up to her again at last, starting to assess her state... the likely cause he had been suspecting.

"Nautical tunes keeping you awake, red? The rain and waves? Or the voices of the Great Old Ones? You might not want to talk about it, but you don't have to. I am something of an occult detective. Can piece clues together. I warned you about exposing yourself too much to that book. Or any artifacts and creations of cosmic abominations, imbued with their dark power. Much less even speaking the R'lyehian language aloud. Trust me, as a Witcher I'm more curious about all those things than you ever were... the knowledge of the universe and its entities, the power in them... but you have to know when to walk away from them, before it's too late. That's the key to beating them. Deny them a hold upon you."

The Witcher at last turned his viper eyes from her and out towards the sea, towards the thickening, ominous mist rising in the distance, darkness of night almost fully upon them, the clouds obscuring the stars. They couldn't yet make out Darkwater Island anywhere... but there would be time enough for that yet. He only hoped they didn't get impeded by any Krakens or Sea Dragons... there could be no further delays to reaching Darkwater Island and the lost city of R'lyeh... the cult had enough of a head start as it were. Unless they were specifically waiting for him and Sabrina... given all the work she had been doing with the book they were now in possession of. Perhaps she was part of this, now. Either way, it was evident by now how much trouble awaited them on the island. He would have to keep an eye on her no less than he was everyone else... lest the Great Old Ones influence prove their undoing. Already he knew this was liable to be a case to put the others of his long life to shame... certainly in terms of scale and danger... the entire world and perhaps beyond at risk, here. He'd almost welcome the Second Conjunction of the Spheres by comparison, at least with that they would stand a chance when it came to pass. With that in mind, he went on as before, low tone serious yet placid. Making her aware of the gravity of the situation they were in. Settling a hand on top of hers on the railing, gripping it tightly, knowing she felt the magic emanating from his touch.

"A little at a time, the more of their knowledge you consume, the more of it you desire, and the more sanity is stolen from you. You become susceptible to their influence and corruption. End up a husk with an appetite and a shadow of your former self. A slave of their will, like these cultists. The closer we are to their so called God, the more at risk you are. You've always been too smart for your own good... and it's time you learned the difference between intelligence and wisdom. The Necronomicon must be destroyed. There are others like it out there, but you have bonded to this one. Even now it beckons to you from afar... as its slumbering master does. In your dreams and waking hours alike. The High Priest of the Great Old Ones. The call of Cthulhu reaches out to you."

@fallesto

The bed was surprisingly comfortable, with plush pillows and a thick wool blanket that smelled faintly of the sea. She sank into it gratefully, feeling the tension in her muscles slowly melt away. For a moment, she allowed herself to just breathe, listening to the rhythm of the rain and the rocking of the ship. It had been days since she'd slept in anything but a hard, cold dirt, and this felt like a small piece of heaven. But she couldn't indulge for long. With a groan, she pushed herself into a sitting position and pulled out the book from her bag. The leather was damp, the pages sticking together slightly, but the inked words remained clear. She flipped through them, her eyes searching for a hint, a clue, anything that might help them destroy the book she lost without unleashing the chaos it contained. Her eyes widened as she found a page with an incantation scribbled in the margins, written in a language she knew, but doubted others knew. It was like nothing anyone had studied, ancient and powerful and she had kept a separate book of research.

Her heart racing, she leaned closer, whispering the words aloud. They tasted foreign on her tongue, but she felt a strange resonance within her, as if the very air around her was vibrating in response. 

“I’ll make them pay.”

The pain in her head grew more intense, but she gritted her teeth and continued, knowing she was onto something vital. The words grew louder in her mind, drowning out the sounds of the storm outside. It was as if the book itself was urging her on, whispering the incantation to her soul. As she quickly snapped it closed, and put it away, she could feel it all around her then, the power, the magic, the curses, the spells, it was all here, this ship then, the crew, are not what they seem to be.

She took a deep breath, got herself up off the bed, and walked across the cabin floor. After moving to the door, she opened it and stepped outside into the darkness. She was hit by the smell of the sea—salt and the stench of rotten wood. As she scanned her surroundings, the ship's crew loomed in the back of her mind. Having read her copy of the book and reviewed her research notes, she considered that these people were not truly human; they were either cultists or something else pretending to be human. Perhaps they were under some powerful magic or curse—she wasn't entirely sure.

However, she understood she had walked into the lion's den by getting on this ship.

She glanced around, searching for him. She found him leaning over the edge, staring down at the crashing waves. She didn’t need to say anything; he would know anyway. He was one of the best at what he did, and he understood the danger posed by the people around her. They might not even make it to their destination before something awful happened. If that were the case, they would have to find a way to fight, as they always did.

Her head still hurt, and memories of her past flooded back—horrible mistakes she had made long ago. The book she had found years ago only amplified her regrets. Now, those mistakes were in the hands of someone else, someone cold, and they were about to unleash something terrible. The crew around her were not human, and she knew he realized that as well; it was just a matter of figuring out how they would deal with them.

[ematini]

What is your opinion on people calling Caitlyn a sexual predator/predatory lesbian?

I definitely can't blame people for saying that, because the two on screen relationships Caitlyn has, Vi and Maddie have EXTREME power imbalance.

It happens not once but TWICE, and neither is mentioned or acknowledged by any character. That's a pattern of behavior. And what conclusion are we supposed to draw from it? Because all signs point to Cailtyn just not caring about the difference in status. People are not pulling accusations like that out of their ass, like certain individuals claim, because they're very clearly shown on screen, just not properly explained/addressed.

What also bothers me is that if the writers wanted to avoid dealing with that, both of those issues could've been avoided by making some changes in the writing. If they wanted to keep Maddie a traitor, just make her a young officer who shows admiration towards Caitlyn, assures her she's doing the right thing, and subtly pushes her more towards Ambessa. If they wanted a rebound plot line, why not make Cait's affair partner another Councilor's daughter? They wouldn't even have to go through the trouble of explaining that entire lore. The natural conclusion would be that they've known each other since childhood through their parents, and the writers would have their motive of Caitlyn trying to date someone her mother would approve of.

Again, i know Caitlyn is not written to be that way. That was not the goal. It's just the writers' ignorance shining through once more. They either didn't catch on the implications or just straight up waved a dismissive hand at it. They swept it under the rug by making Maddie a traitor, which shifts all the blame onto her and not even mention the issues her relationship with Vi has. You can't just write motifs like that, then ignore them and explain your motivations in interviews. Especially if, by the end, the goal is clearly for us to understand and forgive Caitlyn. You're portraing a "hero" character (morally grey or not, Cailtyn is meant to be a hero in the story) in a bad light and instead of letting people form their own opinions on their behavior, you're forcefully attempting to sway our judgment, by ignoring half the shitty things they did. If people have to read interviews to understand what you were aiming for, that shows a flaw in your writing.

[beelanddiavolosimp-blog]

Pls pls pls write more for ur mc!!! Those headcanons were js 😩🙏🙏

Of course of course 😁

My MC headcanons

She is a switch but has many insecurities about her body but once that boundary is broken she is definitely hypersexual. A big(not) problem for the entire characters.

Lucifer

With Lucifer she loves being dominated by him. She will feed into his sadistic tendencies and allow him to practically bully her into submission. But! She often breaks him. She feels a surge of power when making Lucifer beg and he looks oh so pretty when he does so she often makes him beg wether its to fuck her, eat her out or even touch her.

Mammon

With Mammon she love LOVES teasing him. Not in a bully way a 'god you're so cute I want to fuck you' type of way. She is more handsy with him since she feels the most comfortable with him. He practically worships the ground she walks on so she isn't too scared he will find her disgusting like she does. By handsy she is full on tracing his abs, arms, back, boxers. Literally whatever she feels like doing and she enjoys watching his skin get goosebumps and see his cock slowly spring to life and then just disappear.

Levi

With Levi she is mostly a dom. She loves how pathetic he looks when begging or stuttering. She also doesn't feel as insecure with him either since he is even more insecure than her so she mostly focuses on making him feel better. A good distraction! She loves making him flush red in front of people saying the most outlandish things randomly like 'he may not look it but he is big' and leave no context to it. She also is very handsy with him but in a more gentle way. She will make him bend down (since she is short) and cup his face and play with his hair that she finds severely pretty. She will also make use of his love for her thighs making him sit in her lap and if she is feeling especially spicy she will wrap her thighs around his head and squeeze them randomly just to listen to whines.

Satan

With Satan it seems as if they never fuck at all. They are always comfortably cuddling or discussing a nice book they both enjoyed. It's all a play to what they really do. She loves voyeurism a lot and Satan enjoys pissing Lucifer off so they often fuck in places where Lucifer is near or where he will be. They get very aggressive with each other with her scratching down every part of him she can reach loving the red on his skin and him leaving bruises behind on her body from holding her down or getting too lost into the moment. He is one of the first people to choke her and her be okay with it. They have their own little thing with skirts and thigh highs.

Asmos

With asmos she sees him more of a friend so nothing sexual happens between them. All wholesome and funny for them.

Beel

Oh boy. She has a HUGE thing for himbos. Once she met beel she could not get over him. She admired him everyday and it was severely wholesome. She has a deep love for his smile and even more for his laugh. His eyes are something she will paint/draw over and over again. But this isn't wholesome time here. She constantly craves him. So much so that even asmos says she reeks of his sin when around Beel. She is shameless in watching his muscles wether it be him coming out of the shower wiping his face of sweat after a game or even him just stretching and a little bit of skin peeks out she is BRICKED. Hell even his voice gets to her. Once she breaks it to him she is practically in love and obsessed with him he is on cloud nine. He loves how much she wants him makes him feel very special. Now she isn't the greatest at head but she does have a tongue piercing she puts to use. She will lick over other parts of his body while she jacks him off. She is the one who leaves bite marks and bruises on his body practically worshiping him. When he does really anything to her she is LOUD. She also cums the fastest with him because well she loves him. It's not uncommon for beel to be covered in her scent and marks the brothers are severely jealous of this.

Belphie

With belphie it's like fucking your guy friend. She and him bully each other playfully back and forth. Yet their eyes hold a deep lust for one another. She is actually quite into somnophilia and oh boy does belphie love this. Not many of the brothers even know they do fuck since it is when they are asleep together. They do the most risky things like her cockwarming him on the couch with the brothers around but it only seems like belphie is sleeping and resting his head on her shoulder. When in reality she is gripping his hair panting softly as he is as well. They are the ones that fool around the most at school. Janitors closets hate to see them coming. She also is into him choking her and well just his hands in general. She does have to let him know she isn't afraid of him y'know...from past uh...events.

I hope this is what you meant or enjoyed. We are freaky in this house. Should I do the side characters now?🤔

[neuship-zone]

[Can I respond to this?]

RPF is its own grey area so I'm going to talk about it later, but I need to know about how 'fictional CSA' is causing the same issues. Especially since 'fictional CSA' would cover more than just the lolisho stuff I'd like to assume you're talking about.

I hate to say this, but it WOULD be censorship to take someone's work down. It doesn't matter why. Personally, I don't see why writing about fictional characters in harmful situations is more harmful than any other fiction (That includes murder btw, since some of you become radio silent when other taboos like violence get brought up). Yes, it can be uncomfortable to read and I'm not personally a fan but....that's what the tagging system is for? You don't even have to SEE it if you don't want to, because you can filter it. And if your main complaint is that children can find it, then what, should we get rid of all smut too? After all, children shouldn't be reading that either. Or do you only care about what children read if it's stuff you personally don't like?

Now, I don't think banning this content will lead to all queer content being banned, but I must say, some of this content IS queer. Some of these stories are queer people writing about their own experiences. And those stories need to exist because not every queer relationship is sunshine and rainbows. Some queer people are CSA survivors. Should they not be allowed to talk about their trauma, because you don't want the shotacon (who may or may not also be a CSA survivor) to post their shota rape fic?

And if your response is then "just ban the fetishy stuff", where do you draw the line? Because I could write about a hypersexual CSA rape victim and someone could accuse me of "fetishising" rape and CSA because the child is """"enjoying it"""" (nevermind the fact that it's written from the perspective of an unreliable narrator, apparently I need to yell "THIS IS BAD" at the top of my lungs in order for the story to be acceptable. I mean, I would put a disclaimer because I'm nice, but I shouldn't need to tell people what's morally wrong about a child being groomed and abused.)

As for RPF....I mean if it's like Donald Trump x Joe Biden, hell yeah! Also if the CC has given explicit consent. And also crackfics in general.

But obviously things get more complicated when REAL children are now being written about, or if it's an actual ship between two real people. This is not something that even the proship community is unified on. But personally I think writing CSA about real people is abhorrent. There's no "it's a fictional character" because it's not really a fictional character if it represents a single person. A03 doesn't have to take work down, but they could at least...idk...disable people's accounts? I don't think stuff like that should be written without consequences honestly.

And no, I'm not a proshipper. I'm neutralship. I lurk in both proship and antiship spaces in order to find new perspectives and come to a more nuanced opinion. You would think people would guess from my blog name but apparently not I'm not a fan of how (some) proshippers act morally superior over liking problematic stuff, but I will always be anti-censorship and anti-harassment before anything else. We should be promoting media literacy and critical analysis of what we read, not trying to take it all down (or glossing over any issues because "it's fiction")

hey just wanted to say.

if you worship A03, unfollow me.

its a website.

it is a website that has been in beta for 14 years.

its a website that willingly hosts RPF and CSA and allows racism to go unchecked.

it is a website that has donation drives 4(?) times a year and regularly exceeds their goal by hundreds of fucking dollars, but can't even protect their unpaid volunteers from being spammed with CSA

do not fucking defend A03's refusal to moderate their content.

Removing RPF and CSA and racism is not a slippery slope to removing queer content, unless you think the only queer content to exist is inherently CSA or racist??

then again considering how many mlm ships i've seen in fandoms pair up the child protagonist with the 40-60 year old villain "in the name of gay shipping", I'm honestly not surprised so many of these people are up in arms about CSA being removed.

If your queer content is indistinguishable from CSA and RPF maybe you should think about why you're sexualizing children and violating real human being's by using their names and images for your own personal pleasure?

[kings-comic]

I finally fully sketched the new lineup!!

quick note: Malon's dress is changed, you'll see it better in the next update ^^ Also- to be clear, Albi and Ravio are the same height. Albi's just wearing high hills- Some characters may have been excluded from the lineup for either plot reasons, because they aren't important enough or, in Sidon's case, because he'll too tall lmao

I don't know if I will colour it. If I do, be assured that I will share it on here ^^ I most probably won't line it though cause that alone took me 16+ hours 💀

Also- none of them have official heights- I'm working on that. That means that you can put your own grain of salt on that if you decide to draw any of them with characters that aren't mine ^^ At least until I define one for them

Another note- Nutcracker isn't going to be in this comic for a very long time. I added him here cause I felt like it and I love ma boi, but I gotta write his story before any of him appears in the comic asside from references. I have only the prologue and beginning of Chapter one written so you'll just have to wait a bit more for his actual arrival 😞

adding close ups cause I didn't realize the image quality was so bad on big files ;-;

[autumnmobile12]

Here’s a thought:  I think Tera either knew the drunk she went after or she at least knew of him.

Because in a time period where the primary source of everyday entertainment was local gossip, I would bet anything news about 'what the local drunk was up to now' was a popular topic in Richter's community. They seem to live in large town at best, not so much a bustling city, so word would travel relatively quick.  Tera definitely isn't the sort of woman to join in on the gossip to revel in someone else’s misery and misfortune, because with her background, she would 100% recognize alcoholism as the disease it is and not write it off as the simple 'vice' her neighbors would have seen it as. Maybe if she had crossed paths with this man when she was human, she would have offered him her help as her Speaker heritage would have prompted to her to do. Maybe she did offer him her help, repeatedly, but she was never able to draw him out of his spiral. An addict usually can't be helped unless they want to change.

Even though Tera retains many of her human traits and recognizes her love for her daughter, rising as a vampire both awakened a more bleak outlook on the world and diminished her sense of compassion. She didn't really hesitate to go after a human when Olrox suggested she feed soon the way we normally see new vampires in the supernatural genre. Since Tera’s first target was the local drunk, I legitimately think her vampiric dark side came out as, “If I’m going to kill someone to survive, it might as well be this waste of space.” She might have pitied him as a fellow human, and then as a vampire, she saw a use for someone she otherwise viewed as good for nothing else.