#even if i want to throw hands with the art process i will do it anyways. because i like seeing ppl around and i like the journey of it LOL

[squidsquidsquidsquidsquidgame]

The Art of a perfect selfie (NOT)

character: Thanos/Choi su-bong X Fem!reader

Summary: Su-Bong decides that you both need a couple’s selfie that “truly captures your essence.

Warning: none🦑🦑

You should have known this wouldn’t be simple. When Su-Bong declared, with the utmost confidence, that you both needed a couple’s selfie that “truly captures your essence,” you naively thought that meant one or two normal pictures. Maybe something sweet, something cute. But no. No, that was never going to happen.

“Okay, stand right here,” he says, dragging you into position with the excitement of a man about to uncover some deep artistic truth. He holds his phone up, squinting at the screen. “Hmm. This angle makes my chin look weird. Let’s move.”

“You look fine.”

“I look weird,” he insists, already shifting positions. You sigh, but let him do his thing.

The next attempt lasts exactly five seconds before he yells, “Wait! I just got an idea!” He drags you toward a decorative lamp post, tries to prop his phone against a bench for a timed shot, and in the process, knocks over a nearby planter. The crash echoes through the park.

You freeze. He freezes.

Slowly, he turns to you with the guiltiest grin you’ve ever seen. “I don’t think that was my fault.”

“Oh really?” You gesture at the evidence of his crime: a poor, innocent flower pot now lying in ruins.

“Gravity,” he says sagely. “Tragic.” Eventually, you settle on a new spot, this time with Su-Bong holding the phone himself—because clearly, trusting him with props was a mistake. He grins as he throws an arm around you. “Okay, smile—wait, no! Let’s do a cool pose. Something that says, ‘power couple, but also a little bit dangerous.’”

“You want us to look dangerous?” “I mean, don’t we already?” He strikes a dramatic pose, crossing his arms and furrowing his brows like some kind of action movie hero.

“You look constipated.”

“Okay, rude.”

It takes at least a dozen more attempts—some ruined by his dramatic poses, others by sudden laughter, and one truly baffling shot where he somehow managed to photobomb himself.

“How did you even do that?” you ask, staring at the screen. In the foreground, the two of you are smiling (miraculously, a normal photo). But in the background, slightly out of focus, is another blurry Su-Bong, mid-sprint.

He blinks. “Oh. Yeah. I was running to get into position for the next one. Guess I was too fast.”

You bury your face in your hands. “We are never going to get this picture.”

“One more! No, wait—this angle makes my chin look weird. Okay, okay, last one. I swear.”

You level him with a look. “If you say ‘last one’ one more time—”

“Last one,” he whispers dramatically.

You nearly strangle him.

But finally, somehow, by some miracle, you manage to take one decent photo. In it, Su-Bong is grinning with his usual chaotic energy, one arm slung around you as he leans in close. And maybe it’s not the picture-perfect couple’s selfie he had envisioned, but looking at it, you can’t help but think—

Yeah. It really does capture your essence.

🦑🦑🦑

[ushkoo]

How would RED react to getting gifted a drawing of themselves? what would they do with it? what would they say? (ﾉ^ヮ^)ﾉ* 📝

TF2 MERCS BEING GIFTED A DRAWING OF THEMSELVES 🎨🗒️

Scout:

Surprisingly, Scout is an art enthusiast! He does his own drawings when he has the time, nothing too detailed but he draws different poses and sometimes goofy lil comics of Spy being shot in the balls. He’s pretty talented! So if he were to receive a drawing of himself, he would be VERY happy! He’d stare at it for ages, admiring the details and stuff before smiling like an idiot. He’d give you a quick hug then run to his room to put it on his wall above his desk.

Soldier:

Soldier would be very caught off guard and maybe even a little flustered if you gave him a drawing of himself. He’d ask why you draw him whilst trying to keep a straight face and not smile. Even if he doesn’t want to show it, he is VERY emotional moved by this and will forever see you as a friend of his. Bonus points if it involves an American flag in some way. He’ll ruffle your hair, say it looks nice then stiffly walk back to his room to put it in his bedside drawer. He’ll admire it in secret every night!

Pyro:

Pyro would be overjoyed to receive a drawing of themselves! Id you gave them one, they’d immediately get all excited and hug you! They’d giggle a series of muffled thank yous and compliments whilst admiring the drawing. They’re so honoured that you thought they were good enough to draw! They’d take it back to their room and put it in a pink, decorated frame next to their bed.

Demo:

Demo would definitely do that thing mothers do where they stare at it for a moment whilst adjusting their glasses(eyepatch) and holding it a good arms length away to process what he’s looking at. After he sees what you drew, he’ll smile and ruffle your hair whilst telling you what a good artist you are! He’ll be very touched that you drew him, he’s not used to people doing things like that for him. He’ll probably stick it on the wall next to his calendar and such so he can see it daily.

Heavy:

Much like Demo, Heavy would take a moment to process what it is. He would be VERY honoured to receive a drawing of himself! He would keep a straight face but his eyes would be visibly teary as he attempts to stop himself from crying. He’s just so happy! He would thank you, give you a pat on the shoulder, go to his room, stare at it some more whilst possibly crying and then put it in a small frame near his bed.

Engineer:

Engie would def act like a proud father. He’d be very appreciative if he received a drawing of himself! You’d hand him the paper and be met with “is that me?” “Oh wow, you should be an artist!” “You got any more drawings I can see?” Overall, he’d be honoured no matter how skilled you are, he wants you to keep drawing if it makes you happy! He’s just chuffed to be the subject of one of your drawings. He’d take it back to his workshop and put the drawing in the corner of his bulletin board of blueprints and such and occasionally glance up at it whilst he works.

Medic:

Medic would have to adjust his glasses a bit first but would be THRILLED! He’d do a gay little gasp and throw a string of compliments at you whilst admiring the drawing. He’d also probably talk about his own looks whilst he’s at it. If you’re lucky, he might even ask you to draw more of him! He’d go to his medical office and put the drawing on the wall above his desk.

Sniper:

Sniper would act very unmoved if he received a drawing of himself but deep down he would be close to tears. He doesn’t like making an effort to get particularly close to people, so it’s rare that he receives gifts like this, especially handmade ones. He’d nod, tell you it looks good then walk back to his van. He’d stare at it for a while with a stupid lil smile on his face then pin it to the wall somewhere.

Spy:

Like Scout, Spy is an art enthusiast, just in a more classical way. He likes dramatic oil paintings and beautifully done nude drawings, so you’d have to do a lot to properly impress him. Either way, he would still be pleased to receive a drawing of himself and would ask you about your previous education in art, how long you’ve been drawing and so on. He’s interested to know about your taste in art, maybe you have something in common! Afterwards, he’d go back to his smoking room and frame the drawing, displaying it on the wall.

🌊——————————————————————🌊

aaa srry for a lack of activity recently! been rlly sad nd tired all th time (_ _).｡o○

hd a nightmare that my tumblr got hacked last night too (″ロ゛)

feel free to leave requests!

[ram-bles]

HELLOOOO

I got a silly little ask, just a drabble from you would be fine 😁

Like- the reader (gender neutral) wasn't very open about their hobbies and such. One of their hobbies was like martial arts or smth (THIS IS VERY CRUCIAL ☝️☝️☝️)

Wellll, one day Jimmy (🤮) decided to try and touch the reader inappropriately and they just throw him over their shoulder saying something along the lines of "Do NOT touch me."

I KNOW IT'S CRINGE BUT PLEASEEEE, IT WOULD BE SO FUNNY 🙏🙏🙏🙏

I saw you're writing for only Curly and Daisuke, but if you wanna you can add other characters into the mix. It's all platonic, just a silly little ask cuz I wanna laugh 😁😁😁

[ Tulpar Crew & Reader ]

Oh I love this one. Also this reminded me to update my list thank u 4 unintentionally reminding me anon.,.,. ALSO DONT WORRY I DONT THINK IT'S CRINGE !

gender neutral reader, it gets silly later on i promise. not proof-read. wrote this really quick.

⚠️ tw: stalking, jimmy being a little too forward and close

The day was pretty much mundane, like always. Everyone was in their designated work stations, including you of course. Though, something felt off. It had been like this for the past week, and you hated it. You even blamed your lack of sleep for it. It seemed like there was something— someone, watching and following you when you were alone.

One time, you'd even woken up to the sound of your quarter's door closing. You stayed up all night, not wanting to inconvenience the other crew members for what you think might just be all in your head. Well, that is until psych evaluation day came and you opened up about this to Anya who so easily believed you, but seemed so uncomfortable with the topic. You decided not to pry out of respect. She offers her company when you need it.

That same night, Daisuke offered to host a game session to which everyone reluctantly agreed to.

Establishing good bonds between workers is key to an efficient working environment!

Anya, Swansea and Daisuke were sitting by the sofa, Curly dragged a chair just beside the game table, whilst you and Jimmy sat beside each other on the floor. The game involved four players and the crew decided that whoever loses first has to swap with whoever hasn't played yet for the next rounds. The game was getting heated, Daisuke and Anya, neck on neck. Unfortunately, not the only thing neck on neck. Everyone else was too focused on the game to even notice what Jimmy was doing. You can feel his breath against your skin. You eyed the others in hopes that they would see. Too busy. Annoyed and grossed out, you elbowed his ribs in warning, glaring at him. "Jimmy, don't touch me." He seems pissed, but that doesn't deter him from getting his entertainment. Jimmy presses on and you swear you felt your eyebrows twitch. The balls of this guy to even do this here.

Daisuke throws the dice, the three leans in in anticipation as they watch it slowly roll to a stop and—

CRASH!

Some game pieces flew in different directions, two table legs snapping from the force and Jimmy's weight. It was radio silent for a moment. The crew having different variations of shocked expressions. You had grabbed his arm and flipped his body onto the furniture.

"Fuckin' pervert. Are you deaf, or what? I said do NOT touch me."

Daisuke threw his hands up in the air and settled it on each side of his head, frustrated. "Oh, come on, man! I was so close to winni—!" His whining ceases when Swansea nudges him, instantly shutting up and processing what had just happened. It took a few blinks for him to register and he eventually bursts out laughing and pointing at Jimmy. It took everything from Swansea not to burst out laughing as well. Instead, he crosses his arms and huffs with a proud smile. 'Atta' kid.'

Anya on the other hand slips out a gasp, covering her mouth. Mostly out of shock, and no sympathy for the man whatsoever. When the other intern started laughing, she had to bite her lip and look away to suppress her own fit.

[ History of glenohumeral joint subluxation.

It happened way too fast for Jimmy to even process what just happened. He spits out something hard, probably a tooth. His shoulder slightly stings as well, probably dislocated. He'll get back at you some other time, he can't get back at you when everyone else is here and that pisses him off even more.

Curly had mixed feelings. But of course, he prioritizes his role and he has to mediate everything first and foremost. Rubbing his face, he sighs and stands up, putting his hands on his hips. He calls your name and you tilted your head to look up at him. "I have to discuss... this with you later on. Please drop by the cockpit, yeah?" You roll your eyes and nod, pouting. "Swansea, could we borrow your intern real quick?"

"Shift's over, go ahead."

He gives the eldest a nod. "Daisuke, please assist Anya. Help her bring Jimmy to medical."

"Youuuuu got it, Big C." He finger guns towards the captain then stands up to hover over the co-pilot. Curly could only give Daisuke an awkward smile at the nickname.

"Never call him that again."

"El Capitano." Daisuke helps Jimmy up, making sure he's pulling them up by the injured arm, making the man grit his teeth and groan in pain. Before the guy could even cuss at the intern, Swansea continued bickering.

"Do your damn job."

"Yessir. Swansir."

Anya and Daisuke finally went off the bring the poor injured co-pilot to treat him. And if you'd like to know, Anya taught Daisuke how to pull Jimmy's shoulder back to place. Yes, everyone heard him when it happened.

You helped Swansea clean up the mess by the lounge and in apology, offered to help repair the table the next day. He agrees and even offers Daisuke to assist you.

Curly had to lightly reprimand you for your actions, but you'd explained to him what happened. The best he could do for you for now is lie on the report.

Sustained through occupational accident.

Employee confirmed inebriated while working.

Property damage docked to Jimmy.]

[iloveboysinred]

P n v, fem reader, geto x reader, reader is just horny asf (as she should) i wrote more but tumblr ate it and i just wanna get this out there cause its already been collecting dust in my drafts so enjoy this tidbit. Minimal editing i wrote this when i was fried HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY BABY SUGURU

Inspired by this yummy art and real life thought processes

Nothing could accurately describe the heat that coursed through your body whenever you saw your boyfriend in baggy clothes.

You swore he did it on purpose, walking around your house with those loose sweat pants hanging off his hips, his baggy t-shirt hiding something you’re just about ready to go looking for.

This morning felt especially suffocating. You watched from the couch while he walked around the kitchen, completely shirtless as he prepared the two of you a simple breakfast; eggs, rice, coffee…or was it tea? You didn’t know and you hardly cared, pursing your lips every time he pulled the waistband of his grey sweats back into place when they sagged a little too low. The sneak peaks of his hard abdomen, decorated with the dark dusting of a happy trail felt like an aphrodisiac.

You try to quell the filthy thoughts, trying to look as nonchalant as possible, smoothly opening some game on your phone before you start paying too much attention to the way his muscles moved under his skin.

But of course you stare some more because God, you could tell he wasn’t wearing boxers. Your eyes followed the imprint of his dick, thick and on soft and lightly pressing against the seam of his pants. You cursed him inside your mind. Why was he so oblivious to just how good he looked? It was too early to be thinking about throwing him down on the couch and-

“Food’s ready. Come eat” his soothing voice shattered your lustful thoughts, your eyes blinking away to see a small spread of carefully prepared food on the kitchen island. Two mugs sat on the counter, a tea for you and a coffee for him steaming and ready for you to drink. Your heart clenched as you sat down. Suguru was so sweet to you—he made you breakfast and your favorite kind of tea, taking care of you and being so gentle with you yet all you could think about was his strong hands grasping your neck, manhandling you around like you were some rag doll. You felt a little guilty for a second, but the way your clit throbbed made you forget all about it, your exterior tense as you padded over, sitting in the chair next to him.

You couldn’t help but take long glances at him even now. He was so close, you swear you can feel the heat of his pulse right next to you. You gave his print the same attention, your fingers twitching at your sides while he served you some rice and a few pieces of the rolled omelette he made, setting your fork inside your bowl.

“Do you really have to stare so hard? You’re so shameless.” You coughed, almost choking on the bite of rice you just ate. “Augh, what?” sputtering, your eyes widened in alarm when Suguru kept his air of nonchalance, handing you the steamy cup of tea to wash the rice down.

“Did you think I couldn’t tell?” He paused, bringing another piece of the omelette to his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. “and here I thought a sweet girl like you knows how to use her words and tell me what she wants. I guess i haven’t been thorough enough.” You felt your face warm, not even out of embarrassment for being caught but because you know just how thorough Suguru is.

Sensual images of your past rendezvous blared in your mind, pictures of your Suguru, sweat slicked and needy above you, his powerful body moved with yours, his lips moving from your neck to your mouth, his desire evident in the dark red and purple marks decorating your thighs and chest, the taste and smell of your arousal still staining his lips and chin.

He filled you out, his thick manhood dragging against your slippery walls with every thrust. Hot, throbbing pleasure coursed through your nervous system, your back arching in ecstasy when he called out for you, his large hands grasping yours above your head. Suguru’s hair curtained around you when he closed the distance between you, panting and blindly searching for your lips in the dark. You burned the sight into the forefront of your mind, despite how often you were able to witness your boyfriend unravel himself above you after that.

“You should at least finish your food if you’re just gonna ogle at me all day.” You scoffed, placing the tea cup back on the table harder than you intended. Invading his space, you dragged a hand down his neck, trailing it down to his chest and up again, not even playing it coy when you dragged your nails over his nipples, enjoying how he tensed under your touch, stubbornly keeping his calm exterior despite the flickering excitement in his eyes.

“You wanted me to use my words, right?” You purred, raking your nails past his chest and down his abdomen, tracing every defined muscle in admiration, not missing the way his breath hitched. Suguru pursed his lips, his cocky attitude falling flat while he watched you trail lower towards his waist, thumbing the waistband of his sweats.

Creeping closer, you pressed a kiss behind his ear, making sure he could hear you loud and clear “I wanna fuck. Right now. and we’re gonna keep going until i’m satisfied. Does that work for you?” He smirked, regarding you with a sultry look and bringing you in by the hips. “What a filthy mouth.”

[vauer]

𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝟏𝟔𝟏𝟎 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: a couple of days ago, you found a strange blondie in his room. it's time to act decisively.

cᴡ: porn, age up, obscene language, cunnilingus, Internal misogyny, fem!reader

(English isn't my first language, sorry for any mistakes 💌)

───♡─────────────

A couple of paint cans fell to the floor with a thud, drowning out the quiet moans. You insistently pulled Miles closer, wrapping your legs around his hips as his warm hands reverently stroked the curve of your waist.

“Do you like my figure that much?” you giggled as Miles gently squeezed the skin on your side.

"I'm studying the texture for authenticity," his embarrassed murmur touched your lips, parted from lack of air.

You two didn't expect the evening to turn out like this. Actually, Miles did not expect it when he invited you to be a sitter for his graduation work at art school. For you, on the other hand, it was a long-awaited chance. From the first time you met, you knew you had to have him for herself. While their classmates saw him as some silly nerd, there was nothing sexier for you than his craving for quantum physics and drawing.

In fact, you didn't really want to rush things between you, after all, you had only become friends a couple of months ago. But recently you found a girl in Miles's room and decided that it was impossible to delay. You had no idea who that blondie was, but she managed to shake your confidence. You had to hope Miles didn't have a type. You obviously couldn't call herself ugly, on the contrary, your parents' money was doing its job: a couple of years of wearing braces, expensive cosmetologists and hairdressers, and by graduation you could be confused with someone from the Kardashian family. The problem was, you didn't look alike that blondie at all.

You had well-groomed and neatly styled hair when that girl had a hairstyle that was done by either a self-taught punk or an autistic blind man. She dressed in a similar style also. What could Miles possibly see in her?

Anyway, it didn't matter at the moment, because right now his head was between your legs.

The cold and thick paint that you had spilled on the table slowly flowed down your leg. With a quick movement, Miles pulled off your underwear and smeared a purple stain on the back of your thigh. You took a deep breath and gripped the edge of the table. Your whole body was trembling slightly from overexcitation and excess of emotions.

A slight bite on the inside of your thigh sent a shiver down your spine, forcing you to spread your legs wider. You would never have thought that seeing his charming face between your legs could be the most satisfying part of the process.

"You didn't tell me about it."

You arched her back in a sudden burst of pleasure. Trying to calm you accelerated breathing, you swallowed, looking down. With an innocent expression on his face, Miles clamped the curved piercing bar between his teeth. Every little breath he took sent a wave of goosebumps through your body.

"You didn't show much interest in my holes before," you smiled, possessively throwing your legs over his shoulders.

Blushing slightly, Miles looked down again and wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you still. His hot tongue slowly slid along your wet folds, gently pushing them apart and deliberately brushing against the cold metal of the jewelry. You threw your head back, breathing heavily. You could have finish just from the look of his deer eyes innocently looking up at you.

"You're gonna kill me," you muttered, trying to grab onto something to keep from falling off the table under the pressure of the sensations delivered by his soft mouth. In the end, you ran your hand through his soft curls, pulling him as close as you could.

Miles moaned softly, lightly squeezing your butt, his tongue teasingly penetrating inside you as he leaned slightly towards your gentle hand in his hair.

"I think you're trying to strangle me right now," Miles chuckled. His cheeks were slightly squeezed by your thighs, making the whole picture even more adorable.

Feeling the sweet warmth in your lower abdomen, you pulled Miles even closer, moving your hips towards his mouth, rubbing yourself against his face.

Suddenly, he pinned you against the table, holding you by the waist. Unable to move, you threw her head back, feeling even more aroused. Finally, Miles's plump lips found your clit, sucking lightly on it.

He pulled back your piercing with his teeth once again, hard enough to make you gasp in surprise, but not hard enough to cause real pain.

It was too much for you. Just a couple of movements made you shudder and arch back from orgasm, throwing even more things off the table.

With a soft moan, Miles pressed his mouth to your pussy, prolonging your pleasure with a couple of movements of his tongue along your swollen and wet with excitement folds.

You involuntarily pinched his head between your thighs so that he had to forcibly spread your legs apart.

“Have you invited many people to “pose" like that?” you murmured with a note of jealousy and gratitude in voice. Your chest was heaving convulsively from the lack of air in lungs.

“No one,” Miles's cheeks turned an embarrassed blush as he tried to catch his breath, beads of sweat glistened on his forehead. He sat down on the table and looked at your naked body. Awkwardly reaching out, Miles smeared drops of paint on your collarbone, tracing a red line from your chest to hip while admiring your curves.

“Who was that blondie in your room the other day?” you blurted out, not caring how harsh your question sounded, especially after what he had just done to you.

Miles's eyes widened slightly at the unexpected question.

“Do you really want to talk about her at the moment?” He chuckled slightly. “Don't worry, I didn't do those things to her.”

───♡─────────────

hope I won't get cursed or wished to die for this (´꒳`)♡

[semisolidmind]

Drops these thoughts in exchange for absolutely mauling your art.

Saved catnap would be down right horrifying to encounter in the woods-

If your just going for a quick walk, I think he’d just stalk you, ensuring you never get close to Angel’s property.

If you’re there for other reasons……well….CatNap has been debating making a new shire for Angel….(much to everyone else’s dismay and horror…)

And if the person sneaking onto the property has features resembling Angel (hair, eyes, clothing, etc), it gets a little…..off putting to into the barn….

(Also the image of CatNap just licking poor Angel while they’re sleeping beside him is so strong. Even more if he’s doing it to annoy DogDay and rub his scent on angel. Gotta lay your claim to your savior somehow!)

(oh god...catnap barn shrine.... consists of some stolen shirts, a comb, perhaps a throw blanket and some pillows, a picture (with anyone other than y/n scratched out) stolen from the mantle, a spare hairtie or two...anything catnap can get his paws on while the others are distracted or out of the house)

and the idea of catnap occasionally "borrowing" his savior has been on my mind. like, he'll get just close enough to them, quietly from behind, to subtly breath a little red smoke on them. just enough to knock them out. then he'll gently carry them up to his nest in the barns' hayloft. he just wants to hold them, but knows y/n doesn't trust him enough to really let him close.

he spends that time where they're knocked out nuzzling them and purring up a storm. he knows the stupid dog will be breaking down his door to retrieve y/n as soon as he realizes they're gone, so....catnap makes the most of his time with them.

–

ive also been imagining a scene where y/n leaves dogday and the girls inside to make dinner, and goes out onto the back porch. it's dark, and they can't really see much beyond where the porch light can reach, but...they know catnap is out there. they can see the barest trace of his lanky silhouette in the trees beyond the barn.

his white pupils glow through the gloom. his heavy stare pins y/n in place.

with no better ideas, y/n sits, legs dangling over the edge of the deck. they maintain eye contact with catnap. after a beat of silence, they make the one noise no cat can resist.

pssp pssp pssp.

catnap is confused, if the perk of his ears and small tilt of his head is anything to go by.

but, he does take a slow step out of the trees, recognizing the sound as a summons. he begins to cross the yard, getting closer, never taking his eyes off of y/n. his slow stalking gait is anxiety inducing, but y/n tries to keep it together. they have a plan.

they want to get catnap more comfortable with them, with the house, to help better integrate him into their little family. perhaps a little TLC will make the stray cat more personable.

he looks ready to run despite his intimidating facade. his long tail flicks from side to side. curious, but cautious. his eyes never leave y/n.

catnap slowly gets closer and closer, eventually coming into the light. y/n always forgets how big he and dogday actually are; that sheer size is less threatening on dogday, who y/n knows won't hurt them. they're not so sure about catnap.

the massive toy looms over them in spite of his cautious, low posture.

y/n slowly raises their hands, palms upturned. an invitation.

catnap's eyes flicker to their hands for a second before returning to their face. y/n can only hope he understands what they're inviting him to do.

the feline slowly, carefully, steps forward. he sets his heavy head into y/n's palms. he begins to purr when they ever so softly begin to scratch his chin and behind his ears.

moving out of y/n's space, catnap backs away. quiet and uneasy, y/n lets him go. they know that the process of "rehabilitating" him will take time and patience. getting him used to them and the others will be a struggle. but for now, they're just happy that they could get him to accept touch at all.

he knows that the small, tentative smile on their face is...proud, perhaps. happy that he's accepted their care. despite his hesitation, he soaks in the feeling of his savior's hands on him. he can't remember the last time he'd felt a gentle touch. catnap leans into the motions, eyelids drooping a little in contentment. his white eyes remain locked on y/n's face, his pupils dilating a bit. they seem more at ease with him like this. he basks in their simple affection for several minutes, his purring the only sound; he's thoroughly enjoying the peaceful moment between the two of them.

however, a crash from inside and the raucous voices of the other toys startle him into alertness. his eyes widen, pupils shrinking back to slits and his ears lay flat against his head. he hears y/n gasp in surprise, pulling their hands back. catnap's a bit disappointed at the loss of their touch, but knows that it's better not to invite the ire of the other toys by lingering too long. the moment has passed, and he can feel y/n's unease growing again.

the large toy stalks off into the darkness. y/n waits until he's safely beyond the trees to stand and open the door. they cast one last look into the night before heading back inside to mediate whatever accident just occurred.

catnap, as standoffish as he appears, treasures the small gesture he's just received. he returns to the woods, pleased and purring to himself; thinking about the scrap of affection he's been granted from the hands of his beloved savior. he'll be sure to seek them out for more.

[hopelesslygaysstuff]

October 13 - Roleplay

pairing: dom!Wanda x sub!Reader

summary: Wanda paints you, and you find yourself enjoying your new role as a princess.

content warnings: cunnilingus

word count: 1.4k+

masterlist

comments and reblogs are always appreciated! happy reading ♡

“Be a good muse for me,” Wanda murmurs, and you stifle a giggle. 

At first, the thought of roleplay had sounded silly to you. I mean, honestly, why would you want to play pretend? But, Wanda had convinced you to be her muse. She had an art project to finish and needed a figure to paint. So, thus began your first introduction to roleplay. 

You stayed still, a sheet draped over your body as you remembered your role. A princess, stuck in a castle with only the painter for company while she waited for someone to rescue her with a true love's kiss. 

Sure, it was cliche and sappy. But that’s what you loved about it. It really played into the ridiculousness of the situation, and it definitely eased your worries of feeling silly. 

“Is this pose alright?” You asked, sitting casually in your chair. Throwing a leg over the arm of the chair, you make sure that the sheet is covering your nude center before smirking at Wanda. 

Her green eyes are wide and hungry, locked on the sheet hiding your supple curves. 

“Perhaps you could move the sheet a bit, my princess.”

”How so?” You’re teasing her, your words light as mischievous as she glances up towards your face.

Wanda purses her lips slightly, setting down her paintbrush as she slowly stands. Her steps are sure, a few strands of her auburn hair escaping her bun and framing her face perfectly. A spare pencil holds her hair together, and you long to remove it. 

Long fingers gently touch the fabric draping over your shoulder. Green eyes meet yours, and you shudder. 

“May I?”

Mutely, you nod. Her fingers are warm and tantalizingly close, sure with their movements as they maneuver the fabric over your body. Wanda lays the fabric over one shoulder, leaving the other bare with a hint of collarbone peaking out. The sheet is soft against your chest, but thin enough to show your nipples poking through when she adjusts the fabric. 

A small smile creeps onto Wanda’s lips, and you imagine that you’re a princess, desperate for attention and starved of any touch or affection. Suddenly, the urge to crash your lips against hers rages within you, and you feel yourself truly lean into the roleplay for the first time. 

”Do you paint women often?”

Wanda looks up from where she was placing the fabric over your lap, her freckles standing out in the dim lighting from candles around the room. It’s easy to imagine that you’re up in a high cobblestone tower, the solitude surrounding you as you cling to your guest like a lifeline. 

“I do, but none have been quite as exquisite as you, princess,” she whispers as if sharing a secret with you. It makes you lean in, your hands clutching the fabric tightly. 

Looking back down, Wanda’s hands softly cover yours. She pries your fingers off the fabric, another hand gently pressing against your sternum until you’re seated against the back of the chair.

”It’s very important that you don’t move too much during this process, Your Highness,” she explains, a small smile playing on her lips at your reluctance to sit back. Her hands are warm, even through the cloth, and your skin burns from her touch.

Her hands leave, and you feel oddly… empty. 

“Do you really have to sit all the way over there?” You ask, watching Wanda’s head tilt in thought as she looks between you and her easel. 

“Well,” she muses, moving her easel closer. You can smell her vanilla perfume, and you grow dizzy with need and anticipation. “I suppose being closer would help with the details. Excellent idea, princess.” 

Her hand pats your knee, and you breathe in deeply. God, how were you this aroused already?

”Remember, stay still for me.” Wanda begins painting, her warm green eyes glancing between you and the easel. The sound of her paintbrush on the canvas fills the room, and you find yourself longing to feel the touch of it against your skin instead. Anything to settle the sudden energy simmering in your muscles. 

Your mind wanders, immersing itself into this false world you’re acting in. A sort of haze takes over your mind as you begin to dive deeper into the roleplay. 

Imagining the loneliness of a princess who awaits her true love, feelings of despair and desperation well up. A warm ball of hope and excitement joins it, beating solidly in time with your heart as you gaze at Wanda. 

A new guest. A beautiful one at that, once that actually touched you. It had been far too long since you’d had the company of another. 

Wanda scoots her chair closer to you, angling the easel slightly towards you. Her knee touches your thigh, and you suddenly feel dizzy with need. It’s excruciating, trying to remain still while her body heat presses against you and her eyes take in your figure like you’re the most important piece she has to create. 

Fuck waiting for true love, you’re pretty sure you’ve already found it. It shows in the small glances Wanda sends your way, in the fluid movements of her hand as she paints you onto her canvas, forever immortalized in careful strokes of a brush. 

You lick your lips, desire taking over your body. You watch Wanda glance towards your mouth, her hand hesitating before painting the next stroke. Biting your lip, you smile slightly at the shaky breath Wanda takes. 

“You seem distracted, am I boring you?” 

Wanda’s eyes snap to yours, surprise coloring her features for a moment before she smirks. She sets the paintbrush down, removing her apron slowly as her knee presses steadily against your thigh. 

“Of course not, princess. I just find myself longing to partake in a different art form.” She leans closer, her chair now directly next to yours. You could feel her warm breath hitting your cheek, and somehow manage to keep your composure. 

“Oh?” Your voice cracks, and you clear your throat while Wanda moves closer to you. “And what would that art form be?”

Her breath hits your ear, and you feel her lips against your cheek. Your skin is tingling with energy, and you’ve never felt more alive. You can feel the roleplay haze taking over, the idea of a beautiful woman finally touching you after years of isolation nearly sending you over the edge. 

“Let me show you.”

Her hand reaches for the fabric draped over your body, caressing your skin through it as you pant and squirm in your chair. Your fingers grip the armrests, your eyes pleading with Wanda for more. 

She’s silent, her eyes hungrily roaming your body as she begins to slowly pull the sheet off. It feels almost reverent, the way her fingers graze your hot skin and how dark her eyes are when she looks at you. 

Pulling you up from the chair, Wanda ignores the sheet as it falls around your feet, her lips connecting with yours in a frenzy of passion and need. You moan into her mouth, your hands gripping onto her shirt and bunching it up around her waist. 

“Bed,” she commands, her voice soft and firm. 

You obey, your mind filling with a vanilla-scented haze as you feel your senses become fuzzy. Wanda is everywhere, the smell of her perfume filling your nose as her hands run over your body. You can feel her hair as it drags along your chest and stomach while she kisses her way down your body. 

Gasping, you feel Wanda’s mouth on you, licking up your arousal. You’re wetter than you’ve ever been, your hips thrusting against her lips as she builds you up. Her fingers dig into your waist, your hands in her hair as you chant her name. 

With a cry, your back arches, and your orgasm rises rapidly. Raising her head for a brief moment, Wanda smiles and says, “Cum for me princess.”

Your brain registers her command at the same time that her lips wrap around your clit and suck, pleasure exploding throughout your body as you throb. The feeling is intense, your mind fracturing slightly as you unravel beneath Wanda, her name flowing from your lips in short gasps. 

Somewhere, you think you can hear your name being called, and you blink as soft fingers stroke your face, grounding you. Green eyes meet yours, a smile on Wanda’s glistening lips. She kisses you, and you respond eagerly for a moment before she pulls back again, her fingers reaching down to circle your hard clit. You shudder, and her smile widens. 

“Lay back, darling,” Wanda says, her eyes sparkling. “I’m going to make my princess cum again.”

[mochatune]

Solivan brugmansia x reader who’s obsessed with him back hcs

—-

- he first spotted you in the library, something about you brought a sense of deja vu.

- you had spotted him too of course but for different reasons. He was in your spot.

- he knew it was. He had sat there on purpose. After multiple days seeing you, goading himself to speak to you, he found the courage to throw himself as a roadblock so you too would notice him.

- he certainly caught your attention. Cheeks puffed and stomping towards him.

- he wasn’t going to be a suck up and give you back “your spot” as far as he was concerned no ones name was plastered on that seat plus this was his chance to have a proper conversation with you.

- you had briefly considered your options to hopefully persuade him out of the seat, something like coffee crosses your mind. After all there was a cafe right there, but since he wants to be so difficult he doesn’t deserve your money or any more of your time.

- having a moment of courage you stomped up to him and plopped yourself on his lap. You swear the energy in the room became rigged, frozen even.

- it’d been about a minute since he’s moved, he’s been dead still since you sat down; You can’t read your book like this.

- “hey can you relax? You’re making me uncomfortable, I don’t bite.” You added the last part with a subtle smile

- now that he’s actually breathing, you ease yourself into his lap. He doesn’t have much meat on his bones but you’re comfortable regardless.

- feeling his arms rest where your elbows lie on the curvatures of the chair, he’s slightly looking over your shoulder. Looks like he forgot about his own book trailing the pages with you.

- despite your blazing moment of boldness you had felt an anxiety creep in, the way his breath reverberated off the back of your neck made you sweat with pressure. You wished you had gotten a better look at him, only seeing his dark tinted nails and pale hands as you glance down from your book onto the arm rests.

- with the boldness wearing off you decide to focus your attention onto the time. To your luck it’s about time to travel to your next class.

- you get off his lap slowly while giving an apologetic smile for your past behaviour towards his personal space. In the process scanning his features, despite the quick glance he was actually very good looking.

- He had hoped that moment would last forever.

- on your way to class you just couldn’t stop thinking about him, two parts of your brain arguing about wether you wanted to see him again. A new hallway crush at the very least. You too were stuck on his mind.

- lo and behold he’s in your art class, fuck.

- your heart was going to implode as you snuck glances at him accidentally hooking gazes with him. His ears tinted red as the gaze was averted mutually while you probably looked like a strawberry.

- you zoned out the teachers instructions with your own overbearing thoughts, he kept sneaking his way into your consciousness. Him and his dumb cute face.

- he had insisted on drawing you, probably for the better considering anytime you look his way you get jittery. Patiently leaned forward in a 3/4th view.

- you try to act casual, you really do but you just cant maintain eye contact. Looking at him for just a second before you shift your gaze to the wall behind him. Seems to be the same case for him as he occasionally hides his red face behind his sketch pad, must be spring allergies.

- by the end of class he claims he’s only halfway done despite it looking beautiful. You exchange pleasantries before speed walking out. Sol.. Sol you liked that name testing it out a few more times as you walked away.

- tailing behind you he grabs you by the wrist, you feel like a schoolgirl the way he’s approaching you and the worst part is you’re enjoying it. You had just hoped he didn’t hear you.

- upon request you gave him your number for “school related activities” yeah right. At least you’re in the clear. Maybe this means you have a chance with him, fake it till you make it right?

- he stays stuck on your mind all the way home as you hunker on your bed looking at the piles of laundry you’ve been putting off. No matter what else you focus on it comes back to the thought of him.

- you practically pray for another moment of confidence as you hover over his newly added contact. Sighing as you throw your phone next to you.

- ding!

- you practically jump to your phone hoping for sol instead it’s just the group chat you’re in. Despite it not being him at least someone bothered contacting you.

- a Halloween party? ‘Sounds fun’ you text the group chat as you copy the photo and send it to sol. Maybe he’ll go if you invite him.

—-

“A Halloween party? Hosted by the school?”

“Yeah!”

“I'm not quite into parties…”

“Oh…”

- You knew it wasn’t appropriate to grow this attached but you still felt your heart drop.

“Oh! Well, that's alright! Just asking, that's all :)”

- Promptly putting your phone face down next to you saddened.

- ding!

“Wait”

“if you're coming, then I'm coming as well”

“Really?!”

“Really”

- feeling your heart suddenly come burst out

“Do you plan on dressing up?”

“Idk… do you?”

“I mean, it's a costume party, so why not?”

“I'll try to think of something then.”

(The text convo was copy pasted from EchikoHoshisuki on Ao3)

——

- this excited you more then you could ever know, jumping out of bed to go and find a costume and perfect your makeup so it looks bomb for the party.

- you stood awake until 2am thinking about that guy, just what the hell was wrong with you. You wished he’d text you back.

- he couldn’t stop thinking about you, his soulmate as he pleasured himself. He’d hope to have a day like that with you a million more times.

- you finally fall asleep with him still plaguing your mind.

- Saturday is quick to pass as you spend it inside practically rotting in bed, you do have to do laundry before it gets too dark though.

- it’s about 5pm when you head out with your dirty clothing in a janky old cart, the local laundromat is placed conveniently across the street. You roll the dirty wheels over the unpaved side walk, each bump making the cart and the clothing wobble slightly.

- you hang around with a book as you wait for the wash cycle to finish, seemingly unaware of your surroundings.

- after flirting with the idea of reading, two pages later you look up and give the room a swipe. The wash cycle on your machine still has 15 minutes left on it.

- maybe it’d just be better to daydream about the person you’re trying to distract yourself from, seems like it’s a good time waster. You decide to do just that for the remainder of your wash cycle.

- you swear you just saw a lock of green hair

- you must be going crazy, you’re thinking about him so much that it’s like he’s really there.

- you feel a tap on your shoulder.

- Oh he really is there. You make eye contact with his orange hues, feeling a warmth creep up your neck and onto your cheeks.

- fuck

- why does simple eye contact turn you into a mess with this guy.

- deciding to not be a square you perk up and ask him dumb ass small talk questions. You know the; “the weathers nice, huh?”, “how are you?”, “excited for tomorrow?”.

- You knew you were excited for tomorrow. School events didn’t typically get you excited but knowing he would be there made it worth it.

- despite the obvious lack of originality in these conversations starters it was still pleasant speaking with him. Hell, even just staring at him was enough for you. Maybe just thinking about him was good enough to hold you over. For now anyway.

- you wanted to talk more, you really did. Glancing over to your machine you see the wash cycle had just ended. You wanted to wrap your arms around him and kiss him as you bid your goodbyes. He did too. But instead you opted for a wave and a smile, as did he.

- upon coming home and hanging your laundry out on a rack you still thought about him, you were going back to that laundromat the exact same time next week just to talk to him outside of school.

- he lived half an hour away from that laundromat. He had caught a glimpse of you one day while out in your area. No particular reason why he was there.

- he couldn’t stop thinking about you either, deciding to go with his own dirty laundry on the day he saw you. He was so lucky you were there.

- I love him

- I love her

- you force yourself to go to sleep that night. The excitement of tomorrow seeping in.

- you have about an hour before you need to head out, deciding on a simple mummy look. You were told very short notice, this was really all you could pull together. You figure if the makeup looks bomb then no one will pay attention to the lack of originality.

- throwing the look together with white eye contacts to really get that corpse look, you twirl in the mirror and head out. Toilet paper already tearing at your feet.

- upon arrival you see your friend group crowded at the entrance all sporting their unique styles. Brittney was dressed in a gyaru style, typical but it was cute. Jess sporting a simple cat ear headband and a tail, looks like it was short notice for her as well. Lastly, Crowe who seems to have put the most effort in was dressed as a knight in shining armor. Literally.

- you talked to them for a respectable amount of time. They were nice and they looked great your mind was just elsewhere.

- you had to find him, he’s like 80% of the reason you didn’t bail out of the plan. Sure, you went for your friends too but him coming was what really sold the deal. Otherwise you would have found an absurd excuse to stay home and scroll Instagram for hours.

- you inched your way out of the conversation, it seemed Crowe wanted you to stay and chat more as he immediately asked where you were going as you slowly but surely walked away.

- you caught a glimpse of sol just then, he was covered head to toe in toilet paper?

- god you guys accidentally matched, you could only hope he wouldn’t think you’re some crazy stalker.

- despite enjoying the chat you had to go talk to him, you just had to. You reassured Crowe you’d all talk later as you ran off into Sol’s direction.

- slowing your pace as you see the love of your life

- ahem

- Sol. As you see Sol wrapped in toilet paper just as you were. Awkward.

- he looks your way, himself blushing at the realisation you both were matching. Another reason for him to believe you both were destined to be together.

- he had to have you. Tonight.

- he could not and would not wait any long he decided as he looked at you. Thank god for the toilet paper covering over half his face, he’s redder than a tomato.

- as you finally approach him you both talk as he whisks you away somewhere more private.

- he lures you away from the crowds, to tell the truth you were grateful. You didn’t even want to come to this stupid party.

- it was weird when he had you follow him into a dark creepy alleyway but it wasn’t creepy as long as he was there by your side.

- you both stood there, awkwardly, as he stood at a distance ahead of you. He was acting strange but the red flags didn’t bother you so long as it was him.

- though it was even weirder when he lunged at you and stuck a wet cloth in your face. It made you woozy as your vision went black.

- you awake tied to a chair, you can barely piece together what happened last night. Only bits and pieces coming to you, you have a killer headache too. Maybe you could chalk it up to drinking too much if you weren’t strapped down to a cheap ass chair.

- it was actually pretty sturdy as you tried breaking your way out of it. You can only let out a defeated sigh hoping someone will come and save you, you scream but it seems that no one can hear you.

- except him.

- Upon hearing footsteps you’re pretty nervous, opting to stay as quite as possible.

- it’s him, thank god. You feel yourself immediately sink into the wood of the chair and your breath flow becomes less forced.

- he enters the basement with what looks like a bowl of oatmeal and a cup of water. He looks cute in his inside clothes.

- he doesn’t seem to be in a rush to untie you, which is weird. If he wanted you to come home with him you would have.

- he’s still, just staring at you. You can’t maintain eye contact for too long before you blush and avert gazes again. curse your nerves.

- you’re not sure what to say, honestly you’re just happy it’s him and not some creep.

- it’s a relief when he walks up to you with that tray of food, you’re honestly kind of hungry. Maybe he’ll untie you if you comply.

- “you know, you don’t have to tie me up to make me stay by your side.. heh” you offer a nervous chuckle hoping to lighten up the mood. Biting your lip to quell your anxiety.

- he perks up at this, stopping his movements with the silverware as it sloppily clangs onto the edge of the porcelain bowl.

- his face is covered, not even just covered. Drenched in a red hue, sweat runs down his forehead as he hurriedly wipes it away with his sleeve.

- that reaction gave you knots of your own, even after holding you captive you still somehow can’t get enough of him.

- he fidgets with the silverware, opting for the silence as he feeds you. It shouldn’t have made you hot and bothered but it did.

- the way he’d dab at the food that clung to the corners of your lips with his fingers gave you a visceral reaction. You briefly considered licking him honestly.

- must resist the urges. God you really were desperate.

- somewhere down the line he unties you, it doesn’t even take a fully day to get his trust. It didn’t even take you a full day to warm up to him.

- if he wants you here so be it.

- maybe you weren’t as crazy about him as he was to you but you must have had a screw or two loose to enjoy the attention he was giving you.

- you’d miss him when he ran off to school wishing he just wouldn’t bother at all. Days he’d leave you alone in the house were torture.

- you missed him all the time.

- sometimes you’d think about tying him down so he couldn’t leave you.

- you two really are just two peas in a pod

—-

Look i know these barely count as head canons considering they’re supposed to be vague but I honest to god just really hate writing one shots.

This one really took the wind out of me, I do not usually dedicate this much time to an hc but there is NOTHING for this guy online. Possibly due to the game only being a demo right now.

Anyways, I hope the longevity of this isn’t bothersome, I’ve only seen a small handful of readable fics for this guy and wanted to separate myself from the masses. I heavily utilized EchikoHoshisuki’s fic on Ao3 as inspiration for my own, I’m hoping by mentioning their name they’ll add another chapter soon 😅 Maybe expect something for broken colors or yours game next.

And yesss, I know there are still unanswered asks in my inbox. I just have commitment issues but I love y’all and I promise at some point in my life they will be answered.

[solitary-traveler]

Seeking Sweet Serenity

You're tired after a long day and Wanderer is there to help you.

Wanderer x Gn!Reader

Notes: This is very self indulgent. School sucks ass and I fr need to be comforted by Wanderer.

Art: @yXaBLUGg7Yqtw1y (X)

Warning: None, this is just pure fluff.

Life is shit.

So shit.

Your natural efficiency attracted incompetency, individuals at every turn would raise their voice to seize your attention. Yet every word they spill, every letter that rolls out their tongue, were nothing but vexing phrases. 

“Traveler, please help me!” 

“Traveler, can you do me a favor?”

You were sick of it.

Your throat releases a sigh from its confines as you shoulder brusquely the wooden door in front of you. A feeling of tranquility often swaddles you upon entering your shared apartment with Wanderer, but right now, the solace you had found was rived from your grasp, leaving you vulnerable to animosity. Your thoughts torment your brain, tears pricking the rim of your eyes. Oh how you’d do anything to stop yourself from feeling this way. 

Upon overhearing the door screech, Wanderer glances at the entrance. He caught sight of your silhouette, stumbling on your feet. The corners of his lips shifted upwards, it was amusing how much you were akin to that of a drunk person. He rests his arms around his chest, shoulders slumped against the wall. “Who killed you? You look like a corpse”, he teased.

You didn’t answer, opting to stay quiet. The stillness grew, leaving a lingering sense of unbearable silence hanging in the air.

Wanderer couldn’t help but raise a brow. You were acting most peculiar today. Usually, you would’ve returned his jab, possibly even teasing him back just to watch him squirm and insult you back. Yet you remain rooted in your place, not uttering a single term.

Sensitive to this agonizing dread of not hearing your voice, he decided to approach you. His footsteps were light, his sandals clicking across the floor boards. “You alright?” he asked, looming over you. Despite his imposing figure, he was gentle, almost afraid that he might break you with every word that slips out his mouth. Without warning, your figure clasps its hands around him, leaving the Wanderer stunned. “I’m fine”, was the reply you managed to choke out.

But he knew better. He knew you weren’t fine.

Though how was he supposed to react to this? The Wanderer was never one to deal with emotions. All throughout his life, he channeled all his emotions into a glass bottle before throwing them far away into the depths of his non-existent heart. It wasn’t healthy, he knows that now. It only escalates everything further. He has long abandoned his fervent feelings, and he was just slowly unboxing them again. He doesn’t have any clue as to how one should properly deal with them. But watching you suffer in his arms made him wish he knew. It made him wish he was well versed in the area, that he knew how to help you with your current situation.

With only one card available to play, he decided to gamble his chance. He tried a method that worked for him, a process Nahida does whenever he was emotionally unstable. With a soft sigh, he cards his gloved fingers through your locks. ”You wanna cuddle on the couch… and talk about it?” he asked, a certain softness coating his words. You merely looked up and nodded your head meekly.

Wanderer smiles. 

You just want to be comforted. 

And he knew that.

He'll make sure you're okay.

[evilminji]

You know how in Naruto, Sealing is a Finicky Art?

It's like computer coding, calligraphy, and symbolism had a super-powered/reality bending baby. You gotta think in VERY ADHD twirls and swirls too be any good at it. Which is why the Uzumaki rocked it so hard. But I digress.

Is Complexe AF.

Bends Reality and is EASY to fuck up.

Wanna bet? The BEST way to learn/use it? Is to copy already functioning examples? But Oh! How do you KNOW they are functioning? Safe? Well OBVIOUSLY, your Skilled At Seals teacher looks at it first! THEN gives it too you!

Using random seals you find in the dirt is how you get splattered across three different countryside in peices, after all. Possibly take out a nearly Town or two while your at it. No One Is THAT Dumb... RIGHT?

Enter Stage Right o/~☆ Humanity, Everybody! *polite, if strained, golf clapping*

They ABSOLUTELY Are!

Especially Ninja!

Ninja who, after fuckin MURDERING A WHOLE ASS VILLAGE OF SEALING MASTERS, decided to pick through the rubble! Because THAT is gonna work out GREAT! After all... it's not like you just KILLED the fuckers who could tell you what IS and IS NOT functional!

Was that once the "hazardous advanced class' sealing failures" bin? Or was it the "super awesome candy and rainbows" stash!? You don't know. NO ONE DOES NOW. You fuckin KILLED THE PEOPLE WHO DID.

They had their own REGIONAL Sealing Script.

You know, the one they taught to THEIR STUDENTS. Not outsiders. The students you KILLED, you absolute fuck nuggets. But hey! The threat of the Super Scary Sealing Masters is no more! Good job. You've successfully burned down the library. It can't hurt you ever again.

But NOW? You have piles upon piles of GIBBERISH.

You can only VAGUELY tell the novice seals from the master's. And even then? Do you have any idea what most of them DO? Nope. And after a certain point in training? The shaky, uncertain hand writing becomes smooth enough, that it all blends together in "Seals".

Now... what is the SMART thing to do?

Curse your hubris and the atrocities your fear allowed you to commit, obviously. But BEYOND that, Don't Touch Them. But we're Ninja. So WE are all suicidal idiots. The less smart but still Reasonably Precautionary thing to do? Study the amateur Seals. Learn Sealing from other masters.

Crack the Regional Script and slowly, painstakingly, work through each seal as we sort out what is and isn't safe. What can be salvaged. What can be used and how.

A process that will likely take years if not decades.

But of course, that's not GOOD ENOUGH for certain grabby handed, power hungry, short sighted, fuck weasels! No, no. It much EASIER to just throw human life into the blender until profit pops out! Completely IGNORING, of course, that SOME of these?

Could very well be the "Too Dangerous To Ever Use/Will Destroy Us All/Take Them All With Us" type of Seals that Kage usually LOCK UP. The kind you CAN'T destroy once you've made them, because the fall out would be WORSE. And?

Even if you are a murderous, middle management, go nowhere in your life, BASTARD of a ninja? Sometimes you can look down at the massive, intricately detailed, killer off nation's before you. Something that was WRAPPED in locks upon locks upon chains upon seals. And KNOW in your selfish, survival at all costs little heart... You DO NOT want anyone to fuck with this.

You CAN NOT let anyone fuck with this.

NO ONE can be allowed to touch it.

Not for ANYTHING.

You may fear S Class Kage and Missing Nin and what all else they may do to you. But THIS? Your eyes can't even properly FOCUS on it. It's like a tunnel that's lined with poetry, stretching all the way to the Earth's core. It's perfectly flat. It moves, a gentle rotation. But is that just your eyes, tricking you?

So much ink, it swallows the scroll, and this is when it's COMPRESSED.

How many nations?

How many NATIONS must this monstrosity span, when free?

It must have taken a Master decades, if not their entire life, to complete. Possibly a family, several generations. But... but gods it is a work of MADNESS. No wonder it was sealed. It speak, you... you THINK... of Death...

Of it's KING.

Something BEYOND the Shinigami. BEYOND Death and the Purelands.

Who the FUCK would try to summon something beyond GODS? Did they think they could control it? Chain it like the bijuu? You're so cold inside. Because you KNOW. You fucking KNOW, the ambitions and arrogance of those above you.

They'll think they can.

They won't listen.

You... you have to take this and RUN. You stand no chance. But no chance is better then oblivion. Anything is better then standing by and watching it happen.

You obviously don't make it. You never expected too. But at least... at least you won't have to watch whatever THAT is... arrive... fuck...

At least you TRIED.

And? Because leaf Ninja, specifically certain teams, have the MOST Shit luck imaginable? They arrive, having crossed paths with several other teams, on the way back home (yay! Warm food and real beds!) Just in time to see a desperate looking ninja from one of the small villages get fuckin pincushioned. Drop what is VERY clearly an Uzushio Scroll of considerable size and SEVERE SSS+ DO Not EVER Touch Grade Type Markings, and then some joining from that same village go to grab it.

Notice them.

You know... the multiple LEAF NINJA. Who TOO THIS DAY, wear the UZU swirl on their uniforms as a mourning tribute to the DEAR AND PRECIOUS ALLIES they could not save. The Uzushio Allies. Those ones. The ones that were, in fact, from Uzushio.

LIKE THE SCROLL YOU ARE HOLDING.

By the WAY! How DID you get that Scroll? Doesn't seem like something our dear friends would just HAND over, now does it? You didn't happen to LOOT THEIR FUCKIN GRAVES did you? Cause we sure would be MAD about that!

:)

Real Mad.

Dude obviously panics. Because that? That is a VERY pissed off bunch of Ninja, many in the bingo book, one of whom is Very Clearly throwing off BIJUU CHAKRA. And just said "my family's" Ha ha... Oh Shit that's an Uzumaki.

So he decides to USE THE SEAL.

What does it do?

He doesn't know! But it's probably SOMETHING big and impressive, right?

Yes. :) Yes it Does.

*Crack*

The SKY cracks. Like a pane of glass, struck by a hammer. Spiderwebbing as far as the eye can see above them, all from one central point, directly above the seal. The cracks there are concentrated. A point of impact. And through the cracks... something GREEN shines.

Brighter then the daylight around it, yet darker in color then the blue of the sky. Lazily whisping out like escaping mist. Time seems slow as their eyes all whip up wards. Even with senses beyond the normal human base, it is... inconceivable. SOMETHING winds back. They can not see it.

But they can feel it.

Like changing pressure as a storm rolls in.

*Crack!*

Green overtakes the blue. The sky a Kaleidescape of shards, held together by stubbornness alone. Reflecting a calm day that seems IMPOSSIBLE in the face of what's occurring. There should be wind. Great pressure changes in the face of so much FORCE, but the trees are eerily still.. utterly silent..

Nothing dares bring attention to itself.

Some distant part of their minds try to gather the thought that... that it could be an illusion. They... they should check. But they can FEEL it. Like a weight draped gently but without mercy upon their shoulders. It did not slam. But... but they can not move. Can barely breathe. It is beyond killing intent.

It is simply...

DEATH.

*CRASH!*

At last, the sky gives way. A fist, the size of towers punching through. It... it is almost elegant. A ring, almost in the shinigami's visage, wraps itself in a howling and snarled menace, around a great shining finger. A glove protects almost delicate looking, claw tipped fingers. The fist pulls back. Shard of sky falling, Floating, suspended in their moment of destruction, a glittering frame for the gapping wound that has overtaken everything.

Death...

Death has Green Eyes.

A crown of ice and starlight, pulled straight from the coldest north, hair that drifts like the drowned. His skin is that of a corpse. His breath a coldness that seems to suck all warmth from the world. There is no rage, no great irritation, his face merely twisted in slight annoyance. Mild displeasure.

And yet it feels like their greatest sin.

It BURNS.

They are ants. Less then ants. He... He LOOMS so TALL. The Green BURNS into their eyes, into their veins, chokes their lungs. The silence stretches. Those great eyes, the eyes of a GOD, move from them. To the man with the Seal.

He dies instantly.

Shit.

They... they need to... to...

Naruto wanders over and picks up the scroll, completely ignore the Giant Sky God Of Death and how all his friends are frozen in primordial fear. He roughly shakes the dirt off the delicate old relic, then squint at it. Figures he's holding it upside-down. Flipping it, he squints harder. Tilts his head and hums.

"Oh!"

He holds his hand up, turning to look at the terrifying Deity From Beyond Comprehension.

"It's me! I'm the Uzumaki! But, uh, I didn't actually summon you? Our stuff got stolen. Which really sucks!" He looks down again, brings the paper nearly to his nose trying to make out some thing. "Uuuuuh, huh. Got it! Can you get smaller? I don't got any BBQ or anything ON me right now, but Choji's Family makes REALLY good food! We can go out to eat? Ooh ooh! Maybe RAMEN! You like Ramen, right?!"

"Yep, Definitely one of Shouta's."

Rumbles The Actual Fucking King Of Death, shaking the trees and ground under your feet. As you probably stare at your fellow Leaf Nin like WTF.

"Sure, man. Give me a second."

And suddenly? He's leaning forward. Shrinking and twisting in ways that are painful to look at. The sky is... is not healing, so much as UNcracking. Rewinding itself to a pristine state. Until only a large, floating, armored God in black and white floats above you. Glowing.

One that... that is apparently FRIENDS with the Uzumaki Clan.

Because of course he is.

Naruto's introducing his Toads. And teammates. You almost feel bad for Hatake. But like? Better you then me, buddy. THEN? Death? Decides? For some inconceivable reason. "You know what? Im'ma just turn into a human WITH NO CHAKRA NETWORK. Reeeeeally freak out the locals."

And now Leaf is INCHARGE of entertaining A GOD until he decides to leave.

Or (presumably) Else.

And!! Because life loves to kick ninjas IN THE BALLS (for their stupid, STUPID life choices, YOU FUCKERS) it just HAD to be the One God? That can SEE DEAD PEOPLE. Because it's not like ninjas have Death Related Traumas or anything!

*internal ninja screaming*

Feed the guy some BBQ! Stat! Please Akimichi! Save us!

@hdgnj @hypewinter @the-witchhunter @ailithnight @nerdpoe @mutable-manifestation

[milkymora]

left ✧ tsukishima kei x fem!reader ✧ fluff ending

note: uhh i originally had a different idea for this one, but then art block kicked in and i couldn’t find a way to end it how i wanted to, so, for the life of me, i changed it and this is the result. it’s kinda bland but i thought the idea was nice although clichè.

tw: period cramps, r! throwing up.

“kyoko is right.” said tsukishima in a low voice, so that only you could hear. confused, you turn your head to him, inquisitive stare seeking for his amber eyes.

he had his cheek resting on the palm of his hand, not really returning your stare, rather glancing at his plate, with a neutral expression that had a shade of dreaminess in it you weren’t sure you’ve ever seen before.

he seemed to be spacing out, actually.

“what was that?” you questioned, although having heard just fine his previous statement, stealing a forkful of pasta from his plate to get him to pay attention to you.

a subtle smile made its way across tsukki’s thin lips at your gesture.

“i said that kyoko’s right.” he repeated, eyes finally reciprocating yours, no shame in his apparently sincere compliment.

it wasn’t a tease, nor a joke. his voice was genuine, to your surprise.

“what do you mean?”

you knew. you knew what he meant, and he knew that you knew. yet, you wanted to hear him say it. to hear those sweet words, that never came out of his mouth, from him.

“you look gorgeous.” he admitted as if it was the easiest thing to say, as if that was the most obvious thing in the world, going with his fork to steal one of your french fries, mimicking your previous playful deed. though you didn’t even notice.

you had your eyes locked on his, shifting from his right to his left, too busy processing what you’ve just been told.

“oh,” you let out a nervous cackle, “thank you.” flashing him a timid smile. he responded with a simple nod, that subtle smile lingering on his lips as he did.

“sure but, don’t look at me like that.” abruptly, he added.

“like what?” you tilted your head.

“like i’m never nice.”

“would it be a lie?” you snorted, eyeing him from head to toe.

“yes. a blatant one.” unfazed, he responded.

“uh,” you lift your eyebrows at his words, “excuse me?” shock painting your traits, as you go to fill your glass with the water the waiter just brought to the table.

“wasn’t i lovey-dovey enough yesterday?” chuckling, he watches as you almost choke on your drink, coughing the life out of your lungs.

you keep coughing into your palm for a good moment, after having sent him a kick with the tip of your shoe on his calf from under the table, peering around you to make sure your friends hadn’t heard kei’s last sentence.

too bad you’re met by kyoko’s interested stare; when you make eye contact, it’s like you’ve seen a ghost.

“what happened yesterday?” she curiously wonders out loud. although her angelic face, you recognize those sly eyes.

“nothing,” you laugh, not helping the a little too high pitched tone, “he just dropped a couple books at my house, to, uh–” that would always kicks in when searching for a decent lie to tell.

“–to hand them back. i borrowed them from y/n over a month ago, but forgot to return them.” tsukishima chimed in at the pathetic sight of your struggling figure, being the good actor he’d always been.

“sure.” kyoko’s smile spoke volumes, however she simply accepted your response, leaving you alone... without flashing you a knowing smirk beforehand, though.

swallowing a pool of saliva formed in your mouth, you cleared your throat, detaching your gaze from her, your bashful face glancing at your empty plate.

quietly, you go back to eavesdropping the others’ conversations, finding yourself eventually joining yachi’s jokes after sharing laughters with tadashi and her.

and it went on like that for a good while.

until you felt a sudden, stinging pain in your stomach that made you drop the fork in your hand. nonody noticed you going silent at first, nobody except him.

“you good?” his brows furrow the more the time passes, seeing no response coming from you. “i–” your arm goes to cover your stomach, but the pain is so strong you can’t even speak to explain.

abruptly, you jump up, unable to bear it any longer.

it wasn’t a bellyache from something you’ve eaten, you’d recognize those awful cramps from a mile.

without being able to alert anyone, you dragged your feet towards the restroom, closing the door behind you and letting out a groan as shimizu’s voice spoke from afar.

“y/n? are you okay?”

you ignore her, too busy hastily rummaging into your purse for your portable meds’ box as kyoko’s steps approach you, but when you open it, you remember that you hadn’t taken any pill with you for period cramps from home.

“ow—” you cry, the pain bending you, making you kneel down on the bathroom floor. “hey, hey-” kyoko spoke, laying a hand over your shoulder. “what’s wrong?” she asks, her hand traveling on your back to caress it in slow movements.

“do you have anything for cramps?” with tight teeth, you fight the nausea that threaten to make you throw up at any given second.

shimizu’s features softened at your request, wordlessly realizing the issue. “i think i do,” she begins, “i’ll go back where i left my purse to search it up, okay?” she continues. “i’ll be right back.”

you nod, and as quickly as she came, she was gone, leaving you alone with your aching lowerbelly.

you cursed yourself for your oversight, swallowing several times as to try not to actually vomit, when you hear another voice speak from behind the door.

“are you there?” kei’s knuckles knock on the door.

your voice trembles slightly, “yeah.”

he opens the door of a couple inches, his head sticking in to take a look at you. “come in,” you say, gesturing at him.

“um, are you sure i can...?” he doubts, eyeing the women sign glued on the door.

“oh, who cares!” you exclaim, before letting out another groan, closing your eyes in pain. you crouch into yourself further, as if that was somehow gonna relief that unbearable discomfort.

the door closes. his frame sits next to you the second later, so close to you that your shoulders are touching.

“i saw kyoko running back to the table, i figured she anticipated me.” he talks softly, his calmness somewhat comforting. “what happened?”

“just my period.” you lay your head against the cold tiles of the room, huffing and puffing as you tried to regulate your breathing. failing.

“is it that bad?” his face tilts slightly, glancing over every inch of your grimace. “what do you think, sherlock?” you turn your face on the opposite direction, avoiding his eyes as to not be seen like that.

“sorry,” he timidly apologizes, slapping a sense of guilt into your guts for giving him an uncalled for attitude.

“no–” you shake your head, “i’m sorry.” you sigh. “it’s just that it hurts so bad.”

the door pushes open once more, this time hitoka is behind it.

“oh,” yachi takes a step back, “did i interrupt something?” her squeaky tone makes you smile. “no.” you flash her a weak smile.

“i came in to tell you that kyoko doesn’t have anything for you, she told me... and neither do i.” her hands fidget with the little bows of her dress. “do you wanna go home? we will pay for your part.” her displeased face touched your heart.

however tsukki didn’t allow you to choose.

“i’ll pay for it and get her home, you girls don’t worry. i’ll take care of it.” he gets up from his spot. “go tell the others we’re leaving, please.”

his request meets a nodding yachi, that wastes no time heading back to your friends.

“here,” he lends you his hands, “hop.” he says as he helps you get on your feet.

“you really don’t have to, i ca-” you begin, “y/n, darling, spare me the “i can do it myself” speech for another day, okay?”

you try to rebut, “but, really, i can do this myself.”

“yeah, yeah. you’re an independent, strong, woman. i know. we all know. now let me help you.” he says, taking your hand into his, his warm skin pleasing to the touch.

although the nausea and the hammering pain in your womb, you can’t help but chuckle at his statement. “thank you.” you whisper, going on your tippy toes to print a phantom kiss on his cheek.

tsukishima paid for your and his part as he said, before giving a quick wave at the table where the others were still dining cheerfully, tossing on his shoulders his thick coat and opening the door of the restaurant for you and himself.

you and him walked out of the building, the freezing, nightly, dicember air hitting your skin like a whiplash, making your aching worsen immediately.

“shit,” you whine, his arm going around your waist, pulling you closer to him. “resist. we’ll be home before you notice.” he comforts, your frames starting to walk down the street hand in hand.

half an hour later, you’re finally home.

your face is sloped over the toilet, puking every single thing you’ve eaten. tsukki’s behind you, although your protests of not needing him to, holding your hair out of your face.

the cold hadn’t really helped, and your walk was terrible to say the mere least. you felt as if you were fucking dying.

“i’ll go make you something warm.” he offers, to which you jerk your face in his direction, tears in your glassy eyes, heavy breathing. “what?! no! i’ll throw that up as well!”

“okay! okay. what do you want me to do?” asks his intimidated self, “go grab my hot water bottle and fill it, please.” you command, rather desperately.

just like that, he goes upstairs, in your bedroom, taking a hot minute to find the needed object, that was buried between your peluches and covers.

you hear a bunch of rustling, then his steps descending the stairs, walking into the kitchen, taking out a small saucepan.

after another five minutes, his figure appears back into the bathroom, where your poor self had been sitting, sore.

“there.” he says, handing you the thing.

you grab it, laying your back against the wall and pressing the water bag against your abdomen so hard you almost burn your skin. “thanks.” you murmur.

“you think you can take the medicine now?” his finger goes to softly stroke your cheek, giving you a compassionate stare.

“yes...” you glance inside the toilet you just flushed, that erased all the gross shit that previously was there. “i think i’m done with it, if life wants to give me a break.”

“wanna go lay down?” he asks, the softness in his voice giving you sweet goosebumps. “are you gonna leave if i do?”

“wha- no. why would i?” his eyebrows jump slightly.

“i don’t know. just a feeling.” you look down, at your feet.

“i mean, if you want me to leave, i’ll leav-”

“don’t.” your hand goes over his. his fingers move under yours, bringing your hand to his lips. “okay.” before kissing its back.

“..stay for the night.” you move your head towards him, resting your forehead against his. “please.”

his face colored of a deep bordeaux.

“are you sure?” he questions. “mhm.” you hum.

you were left alone in the bathroom as he went to his house to quickly change into cozy clothes. you took the time to take your medicine, a short shower to get the smell off of you and brush your teeth– which you definitely needed as well.

just as you got out of the bathroom in your freshly washed pajama, he entered your place again, this time with flannel pants and a purple sweatshirt, that had a little yellow moon at its upper right.

“have you told your mom you’re staying here for the night? asking that for the sake of your ears, you know...” you joke, noticing, as you did, that your pain as already significantly lowered.

“ha-ha.” he sarcastically laughs at your joke, “don’t worry about that.”

you chuckled, the both of you walking upstairs into your room. “how’s your..?” he begins.

“good. thank you again, for... you know. everything.” you smile, entering your bedroom with him following.

“anytime, pipsqueak.”

you’ve turned on your pc, posing it on the bed, as he took out of your closet another pillow and a couple more fluffy blankets, in that room he’s been in so many times before.

he crawls up your bed, after having added all the necessities, before laying on top of your pillows and playing with one of your peluche.

precisely, the little t-rex he gifted you for your birthday when you were kids. which reminded you...

“oh!” you exclaim, making him jump upright. “what?” he asks, searching for any sign of pain on your face.

“i,” you blush. “i bought you something.”

he lets out a relieved sigh, “god, you scared me.” that quickly shifts into curiosity, though. “what is it?”

you clumsily slip out of your bed, running downstairs, where you left your purse. you grab it, going back to him.

the old woman at the shop had wrapped it up in christmas themed paper, with a red bow on top.

“before you say anything, i know it’s dumb.” you look away, stretching your arm out to him, with the thing in your hand. “i just... i don’t know. it made me think of you when i saw it, so i got it.”

he quietly grabs the object from you, unwrapping it. his expression remains impassive, which makes you nervous.

more than what you already are. “i got one for me too- a matching one.” you stutter mildly, taking out your own brown little bear.

when you go back to watch his face, you found him already looking at you. actually he keeps going back and forth to you and the white bear in his hand.

“you can give it back if you don’t like it.” you close your hand into a fist, hiding your bear in it, your cheeks darkening as you watch him get up from your bed. “tsukki?” you ask.

his arms wrap around your waist, lifting you up, mouth catching yours into a kiss. you tense up before realizing his gesture, loosing up and kissing him back, wrapping your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist.

it’s the sweetest kiss you’ve ever received. nothing compared to the passionate one he gave you yesterday, no, it was... so tender. so delicate.

he wasn’t using his tongue, he simply pressured your lips with his. again, and again. until finally stopping to look at you.

he sat down, you on his lap, watching you with an adoring gaze that made your breath cut short. “i love it so much. thank you, it’s adorable.” he goes to kiss you one more time. “and...” he whispers into your ear, “i’ve actually bought something for you too.”

“really?” your eyes lighten up at his words, a wave of excitement crushing your heart. “yes.” he chuckles.

“what is it?” you ask, making yourself more comfortable on his lap, resting your hands on his broad shoulders.

“just a pair of earrings. i... don’t really know your taste, but i thought of you when i saw them, so i just got them, like you.”

your heart fastened at his words, a smile painting your face from ear to ear. “can i see them?”

“no. not tonight.” he says, making your excitement drop into disappointment. seeing the change of your traits, he pulls you closer to him, kissing the corner of your mouth.

“don’t be sad. i took them home when i went to change. i’ll show you tomorrow, promise.” he nuzzles his face against your neck, occasionally kissing it, making those goosebumps persist on your skin.

“okay.” you smile, running your fingers through his short, golden hair.

a couple minutes later, you were laying back on the bed. you had the pc on your lap, as he kept watching and watching the bear you just gifted him. “so,” he starts. “which movie are we watching?”

“my little pony equestria girls.” you deadpan, holding in the urge to turn and see his expression.

“no way, how did you know it’s my favorite?” he exclaims with irony, making you burst out laughing wholeheartedly.

“no, seriously though, which movie did you pick?”

“i haven’t picked one yet. i’ll let you do that.” you say, putting the laptop on his lap, going to lay next to him. “how do you wanna call your bear?”

“nice.” he smiles, as you guys fix your positions on the bed, your head going to rest on his shoulder as he bring the blankets over your bodies, fuzzy socks on your feet and a couple more peluches around the two of you. “pipsqueak seems appropriate. small, annoying. like you.” he says.

“what do you think?” he questions.

“i’m not annoying. be sweet for once.” you pinch his hip. “okay. i’ll figure out a kinder nickname.” he sighs, rolling his eyes with fake annoyance, although his smile betrayed him.

eventually, he picked his movie, series actually, something you’ve never heard of before, but that was quite his style.

the lights were now turned off, your hot water bag had gotten cold, but you didn’t need it anymore. tsukishima was a good substitute.

your eyes were slowly closing themselves as your hand caressed his chest, head under his chin, which he’d occasionally kiss, caressing your body in such loving way you felt like you were dreaming awake.

after all that’s happened between you and him, this moment was the last way you’d thought your relationship with this guy could turn into.

you weren’t complaining of course.

“tsukki,” you called, “are you asleep?” whispering.

silence. you moved your head slightly upwards, trying to take a look at his face. you couldn’t see much with only the pc screen’s light, yet his eyes seemed to be closed.

he looked so beautiful, an angelic, sleeping lamb.

his breathing was also slower. you watched as his chest rised and fell.

he must’ve been asleep.

“i love you.”

you confessed, closing the pc and going back to nuzzle your face against him, covering your bodies under the amount of blankets, ready to finally join him.

your relaxed face goes back into a smile, though, when you hear him whisper back,

“me too.”

✧ previous

[vyl3tpwny]

genuine question: why is genesis so low on ur topsters?

also, if you can: could i hear why hawaii: part ii is rated 3.5 on ur rateyourmusic? (as opposed to like. anything higher)

(p. s. your music inspires me to be the sincerest version of myself, and for that i thank you. the impact you've had on my life is unforgettable.)

genesis isn't rated low. my number one album of all time is genesis' "the lamb lies down on broadway", for about 16 years running. my topster is organized by relative colour, it's not perfect but it just looks nice!

—

when it comes to talking about music, what i like and like about it, almost 100% of the time i NEVER want to discourage people, talk down to artists, or claim my opinion as fact. the only time i will actively talk down about art is if it's purposefully harmful (see artists like: Tom Macdonald, etc).

with that said, music by miracle musical - and by extension tally hall - often does this thing where there are a handful of really impressive, well written songs that just blow me away. but then the rest of the album outside of those handful of songs are either just ok/catchy or don't interest me very much. the tally hall gang's highs are very high, and equally their lows are just sort of pace-killers for the albums.

it's dynamics like these that prevent me from liking some of my other albums for similar problems! i think albums like queen of misfits and glitter are bogged down by an absurd amount of boring filler that could have just been left out or reworked to be more interesting, it makes it hard to ever listen to those albums front to back. ironically i don't feel that way about fairytails, my 40-song long ass album, almost everything in it still feels rather purposeful to me. i listen to my own music a lot, and once i've finished a project i tend to try and listen to it and enjoy it from an audience perspective rather than an artist one.

while i'm on the topic, i don't necessarily agree with even rating hawaii pt. ii 3.5 because in the past few years i've completely lost interest in the idea of weighing albums by arbitrary scores. nowadays i like to just give 4-5's to albums i like and then ignore anything else. it doesn't really make sense to me to assign a number score to something with good faith, other than to show that score to other people. interfacing with art is not a black and white process. despite the so-called 3.5/5.0 score i gave hawaii pt. ii whenever that was, the reality is that record has influenced me and i've enjoyed it. honestly that's what matters the most. we can sit here and talk album dynamics, technicalities, compositional proficiency, lyric profundity, and """""consistency"""""" (which is a word music critics love to throw around without actually realizing what the fuck they're talking about) all day, but what matters the most is:

Did you like the music? (Yes/No)

Did it inspire you in some way? (Yes/No) [Optional]

Does it seek to do harm? (Yes/No)

Do you respect the efforts and goals of the artist? (Yes/No) [Should always be the inverse of Question 3; i.e; if you answer No to 3, then you should answer Yes to 4]

honestly if you answer yes, yes, no, yes, then it's a good album. i really don't care. not every piece of art has to push the envelope to new heights and be the most innovative thing in the world - i mean wouldn't that be extremely fatiguing and overwhelming? everyone wants to be a critic and tear down shit that doesn't click with them within the first viewing/listen these days, i don't know why, it's probably an ego thing, bred by the echo chambers in the corners of the internet. but a lot of music criticism can be COMPLETELY discarded in favour of "this just isn't for me", and a lot of people go leaps and bounds, doing mental gymnastics over internal compensations, to just avoid saying the dreaded phrase of "this just isn't for me".

trust me, i'm someone who has immense experience with tearing other people down to compensate for my internal insecurities, it happens extremely often which is why a lot of art criticism makes ZERO fucking sense. it's never about making meaningful commentary about anything, it's always just trying to justify in the format of a dissertation - the subjective experience of "this just isn't for me".

so. do i like hawaii pt. ii? yep. is it a perfect album? no. why did i rate it 3.5? probably because at the time i wanted someone somewhere to perceive me as Very Articulated and Well Educated In The Realm of Discussing Art In Front of Other People, in Order to Appear Superior in Intellect and Refined in Taste, Because I'm Insecure Just Like Everyone Else.

[gretavanlace]

Sugar II (part 8)

Jake Kizska x reader

18+ only! Minors do not interact!

Warnings: adult content, language, brief illusions to sex, angst, jealousy, etc.

Only two chapters to go and an epilogue, everyone. I’m so grateful that you have taken this little journey with me. Thank you so much for all your kind words, support, and care. You’re all so wonderful ❤️

“Oh my god, Jake,” your eyes are darting around the room like a mouse with a rabid alley cat slinking, famished and cruel, into its path.

Your unease trumps his delighted gloating instantly, “What do you want me to do, sugar? Tell me and I’ll do it.”

When you steal a glance at the window, longing to climb out and disappear, he hops on the train of your thought process right away, “You want me to duck out?”

You know Jake through and through, and staring into his eyes as your heart drums paranoid vibrations into your rib cage, you’re stunned to watch him offer to give up this chance to square off with whom he has come to see as his most bitter rival. That he would do that for you? That all you would have to do is ask and he would crawl out and wander off into the golden afternoon sunshine like an afterthought…

You really do own his whole heart, you realize at the most inopportune of moments. Your grip on his soul is just as tight as his fingers have always clawed down inside yours…fierce and beautiful in their unrelenting grip.

But haven’t you always known? Hasn’t it always been written across his skin? Etched in his gaze? Sculpted into the bow of his lips when he whispers your name? Evident in his touch?

“No,” you shake your head, willing the mess inside of it to go away, rejecting the thought of him leaving. You want him near, you need him near. To let him go right now, even for a second, seems an agonizing punishment that you cannot bear to suffer. No matter the consequences.

“Stay. But please…” you rush over to him, helping him to his feet while stealing glances at the doorway, “Please just behave and follow my lead, okay? Please?”

”Normally, I like it when you use your manners,” he sighs, smoothing out his clothes, as well as a lock of your hair that has fluttered out of place, “But that’s too many pleases and you look petrified. Why?” His voice is suddenly intense yet careful, as is his grip on your arm, “Does he hurt you?”

They idea is entirely laughable, but there’s no time for that, so you brush him off with a swipe of your hand and a flippant, “Don’t be stupid, Jake.”

Without allowing yourself to think it through, you begin ushering him down the hall towards the front room, but what will you find there? Doom or salvation?

How will these pieces fall together? Something solid and heavy in your heart tells you Jake will do as you have asked and play nice, but another facet buried even deeper inside is rocked with anxiety and screaming that it’s only wishful thinking to believe such a fairytale.

”Hey hon,” jovially rings out as he steps in through the garage, “I saw your car! We’re both home early? Looks like the universe knew how much I missed you!”

Jake turns to catch your eye as you shove him along, but you refuse to meet his gaze. You're unsure of what you’ll find there and this isn’t the time for uncertainties.

Would you find sadness threatening to roll hot tears down his cheeks? Anger threatening to boil over in his fiery chocolate irises? Accusation and resentment for what you’re about to subject him to?

Oh god, you can’t do this! Suddenly, and absurdly, you wish you could fade into the gentle, lush, green paint that you had once rolled upon the hallway walls, paying meticulous attention to detail. Build this home, had been the plan…bury him away under paint and sanded cabinets. Art perched on the walls and throw pillows piled on the bed.

You’d love to disappear and leave them perplexed and confused, wondering what became of you. To vanish into nothing like a dust mote blown away upon the lightest, softest breeze.

You’re a coward.

While your thoughts are busy with that, Jake’s are grappling with each other. Tangled up and struggling. He’d very much like to stomp into the front room and shut this man up. With his booming voice calling out how much he’s missed you like he has some claim over you. Like you’re his. Like he doesn’t understand that you could never really be anyone’s because you’re much too good for this whole goddamn world. That you’re precious, like the rarest of stones and anyone who is lucky enough to hold you in their palm should fall on their knees in thanks.

He sounds so fucking common. Does he think you’re common as well? Jake can’t stomach the thought.

So, yes, he’d like to stroll into the room, casual as you please, and announce that he is taking you away from this ridiculous illusion where you play house and pretend to be satisfied. He longs to tell him how he’s made love to you, how he’s fucked you. How you’ve begged for him and swore no one could ever be him. Jake wants to tell him that the ring he put on your finger has been in his mouth, that he spat it out and you didn’t even care. That you hardly even noticed. Jake would almost kill to watch Mr. Wonderful’s face crumple in defeat and loss…

But he loves you far too much, and to say all those things would hurt you, too.

Scar your heart he will not.

He’s shrugging off his suit blazer when you both appear. It’s a mundane action, one that repeats itself nearly every evening, but you stand still and shellshocked, unable to jolt yourself into some semblance of normalcy until Jake subtly nudges you with a ginger elbow.

“Hi,” you begin, a touch too loudly, “Yeah, you’re early! I actually didn’t end up going to work today. Old friend in town. We went to the movies. And then we came here. He wanted to see the house. I…I told him about it. I was just giving him the tour.”

You sound robotic and ridiculous, but he doesn’t appear to notice. Rather, he looks delighted when his eyes land on Jake and recognition settles in.

”Ah, I know you!” He laughs, marching forward with an outstretched hand. “The almost brother in law. Good to finally meet you.”

His grasp on Jake’s hand is strong and sure as he pumps it up and down. The genuine gladness in his gesture makes you want to tear your own hair out in penance.

Or is it the ‘almost brother in law’ moniker that has made you nauseous?

Yes, that’s what you boiled Jacob down to. You had held nothing back about your relationship with Josh…but Jake? You just couldn’t. To speak of him, to share him that way…it had seemed incomprehensible. And how could you ever put it into words, anyway? How could anyone ever understand what he was to you? What he is to you? No, it had seemed best to keep him locked away, silent and safe in your memories. Tucked away in your heart. The boy in the bubble.

Jake’s face is unreadable as he sizes up this opponent before him. This rival who has just unknowingly stepped into the ring. This blissfully unaware adversary. He is a doe who has wandered idly into the path of a dangerously ravenous mountain lion, and he doesn’t even know it. Ignorance really does seem like bliss in this moment, and you long for it.

“Yes, the almost brother in law,” his tone is slightly clipped, but no one, aside from you - and perhaps his brothers - would ever notice. “That’s me. And you are?”

Here we go. He’s going to love this.

They drop hands and a friendly clap lands on Jake’s shoulder. “I’m Jake, too. What are the odds?”

A sharp, satisfied laugh bursts out of Jake, head tipped back, adam’s apple bobbing gleefully, and you long to tell the smug bastard to just shut the hell up, but it’s over quickly enough.

”Yes,” he sighs, with a shake of his head that ends in his eyes blazing holes into your soul, “What are the odds?”

”’Course this one over here calls me by my middle name, James. Says it fits me. No one else does, though, so choice is yours. Man, it’s so great to finally meet you.” He’s prattling on now, never having met a stranger, “You know we’ve got all your work over there in the case. You’re a hell of a guitar player. I tried to learn in high school, mostly to impress girls…never could get it. Anyway…”

Jake is eyeing him like he doesn’t know what to make of this man standing there, cordial and warm, tossing out compliments and bids for conversation.

His eyes are traveling over this unfamiliar being, now so tangible and real, who has had his hands all over you. Who has had his mouth pressed to your precious body, who has whispered against your skin, who has made love to you in the still of the night, and held you, and rested beside you, breathing in tandem. Who has gotten down on one knee and asked you to be his wife.

And you said yes...you said yes.

He wants to hurt him. Both physically and emotionally. He wants to level him. To crush him into nothing. And though this Jake, James, or whatever his name is, isn’t to blame, he wants it all the same. He wishes he could lure him into his palm like a revolting insect and squeeze until he was no more than something vile to be wiped away with a Kleenex.

Instead, he tilts his head in the direction of the vinyls and shrugs off the accolades, “Fuckin’ Zeppelin cover band.”

James laughs uproariously and gestures into the room welcomingly, “Why are we all standing around like this? Have a seat…please. Make yourself at home. Can I get you something to drink? Water? A beer? Whiskey? I know it’s early, but special occasions call for special circumstances, I always say.”

Eyes on you, he shrugs out a response that would be lost on anybody but you, “I’ll have what you’re having.”

Once you’re alone for a moment, he shakes his head with a gorgeous, if not self-satisfied, smirk sparking to life upon his face. “His name is Jake? Oh, sugar…” he’s laughing softly now, and sinking down into the cushions of the couch, “creature of habit, aren’t you, pretty girl?”

”Shut up!” You hiss, eyes flickering towards the kitchen doorway, “Coincidence. That’s all. Don’t be so fucking full of yourself. Now, please just be nice.”

He quiets down, drawing the back of his forefinger beneath his eye dramatically as if he has laughed himself to tears, “I’m being very nice and you know it. Don’t push it.”

You sit, as far away from him as the couch will allow, but instantly he’s leaned in close. “What do you think he would do if I got down on my knees right here and buried my face in that gorgeous little cunt of yours? Showed him how it’s really done.”

”Jacob!” You barely make a sound as you admonish him with a clipped shove to settle him.

He slinks back into his seat with another laughing shake of his head, “This is perfect.”

”I hate you.” You lie.

”Sure you do, sugar,” he winks, crossing his legs to get comfy, “Sure you do. Almost brother in law, huh? Is that what I’ve been reduced to?”

He’s still chuckling quietly to himself while a strange mix of panic and tears begins to churn around inside of you like a slow moving summer storm. He’s gearing up, you can feel it, and the thought of it all is too much, your metaphorical knees are beginning to shake. This could end so, so badly.

“Later, Jake…” you’re beseeching without shame, pleading with your watery gaze. “We’ll talk about it later. Please just stop.”

His palm cradles your cheek so softly you wonder if anyone has ever touched someone as gently as he touches you, “Settle down, baby. I won’t make trouble for you.”

How laughable that he can’t seem to recognize that you’ve brought this trouble on all by yourself. No help needed.

He has moved to create a respectable distance between the two of you by the time James is sweeping back into the room bearing a tray flush with drinks and snacks.

”Here, sweetie,” he drops a kiss upon the top of your head, presenting a glass. “Made you a mimosa…I know you like to keep it light through the week.”

You somehow manage a thank you and sip at the sweet, bubbly mix, praying it calms your frayed nerves.

”For us,” he extends the tray and you watch as Jake plucks a low ball glass from it, “bourbon. Unless you’d rather browse the bar. Plenty to choose from.”

”Bourbon is fantastic,” Jake nips at his glass. “Thank you.”

There is a palpable disdain hovering around Jake like a murky aura, but there is heartbreak there too. Aching and black. Heavy and weighing down the light that normally follows him around like a strange shadow…and you’d give anything to take it away.

For just a breath, you intend to do just that. To rise to your feet and stomp all over James’ open, trusting heart. To tell him the truth. To tell him you’re leaving. You nearly take Jake by the hand and drag him towards the door and leave everything else behind without explanation…simply to end his suffering.

Your lips nearly part to say the words when you’re cut off.

“Oh. I almost forgot,” James leans forward in his chair and grabs for your hand, absently running his thumb against your own, “Erin called. She said you guys had a great time the other day, said you’d planned something for this weekend? Wedding planning?”

Erin. His sister. You’ve grown close but it wouldn’t hurt to leave her behind. It wouldn’t even sting…not for Jake.

You squeeze his hand with a tiny smile and fight rolling nausea at the mere mention of the wedding in Jake’s presence. From the corner of your eye, you watch him tense, but he recovers quickly and drains his glass to the dredges in one pull.

”Well,” suddenly, he’s on his feet. “I’ve taken enough of your time today. It was good to see you.” His eyes are unreadable and shift quickly away from your own. “James, good to meet you and thank you for the hospitality.”

”Don’t run off on my account,” James is on his feet now as well, “We’d love to have you stay for dinner. I make a mean chicken Kiev, and…”

”No,” Jake interrupts, gaze jumping towards the door as if he can’t get away fast enough. “I’ve got a flight to catch in just a few hours, need to head back…you know how it goes.”

He sounds ineloquent and so unlike himself… and you can feel it - his heartbreak - in your bones as though you’ve crawled inside his body and curled up beside it like a clinging lover.

“Jake,” you can’t seem to move from your seat, your body uncooperative and rebellious, “Your car is still at the theater, let me drive you…”

”Drive me?” He is staring at you, white hot and desperate…the mask is finally slipping. He has played pretend all he can for the day. “And then what?”

”And then…” again, you are a coward. A fucking coward. “I don’t know. What do you mean, and then?”

The room is silent for a beat - with words unspoken crashing into the space between yourself and Jake, and James struggling to understand this strange exchange.

With the slightest nod of his head, Jacob silently encourages you. Urges you. Come with me, sugar…it seems to say, come home.

But still you sit, frozen and paralyzed. A horrified doe staring down the hunter’s muzzle.

Another nod, clipped and more obvious this time, responds to your inaction. “I’ll walk. Again, thank you for having me.”

The door closes behind him in a blink, and he is gone. For a moment, you wonder if you’ve imagined him completely…

Looking down at your shaking hands in your lap, you realize you never even made it to your feet. You sat, unmoving, and watched him go.

~

Hours later, you’re standing outside an unfamiliar door, anxiously clutching at the straps of the bag tossed over your shoulder.

And when that unfamiliar door swings open, your heart unclenches, for there he stands. Showered, smelling of soap and warmth, hair curled into dampened, loose ringlets, beat to hell jeans riding low on his hips.

“Well, look what the cat dragged in,” he smirks, leaning against the doorframe. “If it isn’t Mrs. Wonderful…”

“Hi,” it comes out meek and small, but flush full of the comfort that is being near him.

”How’d you find me?” His arms cross loosely, with a faded smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.

”Were you hiding?” Why hasn’t he turned to lead you in?

”From you, pretty girl?” He scoffs as if the very idea is preposterous. “Never.”

Yet, on he stands as though barring your entrance…as though he intends to send you on your way any moment.

”I called Josh,” you offer, wringing at your bag’s handles idly, simply for something to do with your hands. “He told me where you were staying.” Your gaze skitters over the house. “It’s nice. Cozy.”

He nods, “Airbnb. You mentioned something about us always being in hotels, before. I thought, if there was a chance I’d be hosting you, you might like something a little more…domestic. Though, I see now that you have plenty of that going for you already, right? Domesticity?”

“Do I deserve that?”

His shoulders hunch inwardly slightly, he knows you’re right, and he knows he’s being a bit of an asshole as well. “No, I suppose you don’t.”

”Are you going to invite me in? I feel a little stupid standing out here.” Vulnerability seems of such insignificance when it is Jacob in question. He knows your bare soul so well anyway.

Still, he allows you to dangle on his string, twisting languidly in the soft, evening breeze. “Why’d you call Josh to find me? Why not just call me? Missing my better half now that you’ve had a bit of fun with me?”

Now there’s a slight irritation traipsing along your nerves, and damned if you’re going to mask it. “Alright, either let me in or tell me to go to hell. I’m not going to beg for your good graces.”

”Are you coming in to stay? Or are you here to say goodbye? Because my heart has had enough for one day.”

”Oh, fuck off, Jacob.” You huff, pushing past him into the house. You slump your bag off your shoulder and onto the floor and then turn on him. “Sorry to have interrupted your pity party, but what did you think was going to happen today? Did you think it was going to be spectacular and wonderful to walk around in the life that I live with someone else? You practically fucked me in the bedroom I share with him. You lit up like a goddamn Christmas tree when you realized he was home. You wanted this, and you know what I think your problem is? I think you liked him.”

”Fuck you!” He slams the door closed and looks you over like you’ve lost your mind entirely. “You think I liked him? I couldn’t give a fuck less about him. He made my skin crawl. Do you know what it was like for me to watch him touch you? The way he looked at you…”

He falls silent and suddenly refuses to meet your eyes, and your heart breaks right alongside his.

Tentatively, you reach out and rest your palm against his cheek, “The way he looked at me doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter. It never really has.”

His hand floats up to meet yours, “He looked at you with so much love. Like he would give you the entire world. It made me feel not good enough. It made me feel like I should leave and let it be. Like I was wrong for showing up and rattling your whole life around.”

You’re backing him up against the door now, his gorgeous, stricken face held fast in your sure and gentle hands. “Not good enough? You? Oh, Jakey…” you pet at his face worshipfully, “We have a garden, remember? And you help me harvest, and I know you feed me those tiny tomatoes I like. You know? The little yellow ones? And they’re all gone before we even get inside.”

He’s nodding along as you pepper kisses upon his cheeks and forehead.

“And we have a porch swing, and a piano, and beautiful babies, and a cat…and you sing to us, and love us hard every single minute of every single day. And you make us so, so happy. And I wake up every morning with a smile on my face because I packed this stupid bag,” your foot darts out and kicks it, “and shoved my way inside when you refused to invite me in.”

”Don't say things you don’t mean, sugar…” his hands are in your hair now, guiding your mouth to his own so that he can lick inside it. He needs to taste you - needs to feel the silken velvet of your tongue, “I can’t take it, baby.”

You’re breathing each other's breath, lips like feathers dancing together soft and sweet, holding on to one another as if you might both just vanish into nothing in an instant, “I mean it, Jake…” you promise, “I mean it. You are everything,”

You can almost hear the pounding of his heart as the heat of his need begins to radiate and warm you, “Because I can’t stand the thought of leaving, of thinking you’ll follow, only for you to change your mind. It would kill me, sugar. So, please don’t say these things to me if you—“

You silence him with a deep, feverish kiss and then break away, forehead to forehead, “I’m not following later. I’m coming with you. This is where I am now…with you.”

Tears well in his eyes and spill over, hot and saline, as you lick and kiss them away. “I love you, pretty girl…” it chokes out of him, rasping as he swallows thickly, “I love you so fucking much. I’ve imagined this moment in so many different ways, but it was never as perfect as this. Tell me you know how much I love you.”

”I know, and I—“ it is he who interrupts with a desperate kiss this time.

And you know that later he will ask, and when he asks you will tell him what was said back at that house that broke his heart in two - how you ended things with the one who really never mattered at all…

…but for now all that matters is the taste of him on your lips. His air-drying hair looped through your searching fingers. Your hearts and lungs syncing, with his tears like brackish diamonds in your stomach because you have finally swallowed his sorrow and unburdened him from it.

He seems lighter in your arms already…closer now to the sun than he had ever been to the moon before.

Taglist: @gretasintrees @greta-van-chaos @celestialfauna @s0livagant @groggyvanfleet @kiszkathecook @brokenbellz @llightmyllovee @doodle417 @seventieswhore @jake-kiszkas-smirk @weightofdreams-gvf @imdepressedaf1996 @alisonwonderland29 @gretavanfleas @gretavangroove @sparrowofthedawn @xserenax-13 @tbagggvf @obetrolncocktails @tripthelightfandomtastic @tripthelight-fanfic @jakeslovehandles @poofyloofy @70sgroupielovr @age-of-nyahh @sammiboo162 @spicedandicedtea @jakekiszkasleftnutsack @saoirsemaeve @mywickeddivinity @thelvnternskeeper @paintmyhouse @mckenna4 @sarakay-gvf @theweightofjake @thewritingbeforesunrise @joshsmama @sammysvanfeet @rhythm-of-space @highladyofasgard @calumspretty @sad1lynn @demolitionndann @gvfpal @starcatcher-jake @gretavangroupie @hugorobinson @jaketlove @josh-iamyour-mama

[mya-valentine]

Headcanon: Kaveh with an S/O Who Teases Him for His Dramatic Reactions

Kaveh’s S/O absolutely loves how expressive and passionate he is about everything. They quickly learn that all it takes is a light tease to get him to launch into a dramatic monologue, and they can’t resist doing it every chance they get. Whether it’s a playful jab about his work or his perfectionism, they know exactly how to push his buttons (in the most affectionate way).

One of Kaveh’s signature reactions is being completely scandalized by his S/O’s teasing. “How could you possibly think that?” he’ll exclaim, waving his hands dramatically as he paces around the room. His S/O can’t help but laugh, knowing full well they’ve struck gold every time they get him to react like this.

Even when Kaveh knows his S/O is just messing with him, he can’t help but defend himself, especially when they make light of his architectural skills. “Do you even know how much thought I put into this design?!” he’ll say, going off on a detailed explanation of his creative process. His S/O finds it endearing and often stokes the fire just to hear him get so passionate.

Sometimes, his S/O mixes their teasing with genuine praise, which always catches Kaveh off guard. If they say something like, “You’re so good at what you do, it’s a little annoying,” Kaveh’s reaction is a mix of pride and confusion. “Wait, was that an insult or a compliment?” he’ll ask, torn between feeling flattered and overthinking it.

If Alhaitham is around when Kaveh’s S/O is teasing him, he’ll likely get involved by making a dry comment, which only frustrates Kaveh more. “See! Even Alhaitham thinks I’m right!” his S/O will say, and Kaveh will groan, caught between his rival and his S/O, both of whom enjoy seeing him worked up.

When the teasing turns romantic, like his S/O playfully saying, “You’re so cute when you’re upset,” Kaveh’s dramatic energy takes a sharp turn into bashfulness. He’ll blush, stammering to defend himself, but his S/O knows he secretly loves it.

Despite always being on the receiving end, Kaveh tries his best to outwit his S/O in their playful banter. He’ll make clever retorts or tease them back, but it never seems to have the same effect because his S/O is immune to his dramatics. This frustrates him to no end, and it’s exactly why they keep teasing him.

Sometimes, Kaveh will exaggerate his reactions even more just to give his S/O what they want. If they accuse him of being “over the top,” he’ll throw in an even grander gesture, saying, “Well, if you think that’s dramatic, just you wait!” His S/O loves this side of him, and they encourage it with every opportunity.

Kaveh is very sensitive, and his S/O knows this. They’ll poke fun at him for getting emotional over small things, like a perfectly crafted building or a heartfelt compliment from someone. “You’re going to cry over that?” they’ll tease, and Kaveh, already feeling emotional, will insist that “it’s art, it’s supposed to move you!”

Though they love teasing him, Kaveh’s S/O knows when to dial it back and offer comfort. They’ll affectionately ruffle his hair or pull him into a hug after a teasing session, telling him how much they love his passion and dramatic nature. Kaveh will act flustered but secretly enjoy the attention, grumbling, “You’re lucky I love you.”

Whenever Kaveh gets too stressed about his work or life, his S/O uses their teasing as a way to lighten the mood. It’s their playful method of bringing him back to the present and reminding him not to take things too seriously. And even though Kaveh pretends to be annoyed by it, he appreciates the way his S/O always knows how to cheer him up.

.

.

.

Masterlist

[silentcryracha]

❍ ‗ Making art with Hyunjin ‗ ❍

Pairing : Hyunjin x f reader

Summary : chapter four of a cute standalone miniseries. It's what it says in the title

Genre/ Warnings : scenario/imagine/headcanon, drabble, fluff, suggestive but no smut, unserious but helpful Hyunjin, it's cute idk

Word count : 635 words

A/n : none

ps: There could be grammar errors. Do NOT repost on other socials. Leave feedback if you feel like it, otherwise enjoy! ♡︎

masterlist

series masterpost

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Hyunjin loves art, yes, but he loves you more. Don't even try to not make things about you if you're around because you'll be unsuccessful.

"Okay mr. Picasso draw an apple for me"

Five minutes later he'd be handing you the sketchbook, a pencil sketch picturing YOU holding an apple.

"This is ridiculous" you whisper, lowkey speechless. Hyunjin would pout, looking genuinely sad for a moment.

"You don't like it?" and of course you'd throw yourself at him covering him with kisses and praises all over his face.

He's just extra talented and in love! It's not his fault!

He'd be so happy to either learn from you or teach you, if you asked. Like oh my gosh imagine if he had an actual artist as a partner? He'd be so in awe and interested in each and every step of the process.

He would a hundred percent ask you to teach him, whatever the technique. He'd just be so excited to spend time with you regardless <3

Same thing if the roles were reversed and he was the teacher! He'd be very honored if asked him to teach you, probably because even though he's crazy good he wouldn't consider himself a professional artist.

You'd just end you having so much fun together. I feel like Hyunjin would shower you with praises and encouragement.

"That looks so good already, baby."

"It's...missing an arm and hair"

And he'd just respond "It's his business not yours" in the cutest most unserious tone.

"Hyune, come here a sec" you call out and whatever he was doing, he'd walk over.

"I don't think the sketch is bad but something is off. Is it the colors?" he listens, giving you a sweet kiss on the head, then focusing on the painting.

"I think the purple is a bit bright, try adding some black. I know you usually shouldn't but I don't think it's a drop is gonna hurt." he answers softly, picking up the acrylic and then mixing.

He picks up the brush and skillfully covers up the previous color, smiling to himself in satisfaction afterwards.

"See? Now the palette is more balanced." he gives you another kiss because, well yes.

"Yes it does! Colors do make such a difference. Thank you, honey"

It doesn't always need to be a learning experience though! Sometimes you just want to have a laugh or make a mess and then then make out covered in paint like it's not that serious.

It would happen specifically when someone got stressed working on a piece, and maybe it just sucked and wanted to throw it away, so might as well transform it into a whole abstract piece and get a laugh out of it. Mood lifted!

You and Hyunjin were just chilling, sitting together on the couch late at night, a whole storm outside. He turns to you, saying:

"Do you want to play a game?" you look up at him.

"Okay, Jigsaw. What were you thinking?"

He stands up, walking around the living room to pick up two sketchbooks, some pencils and spare pastels. Then comes back to hand you one.

"We pick something in the room -in our line of view- to draw, then we each have three chances to guess it right." you bite your lip, smiling.

"Okay. And what if we don't guess right?" he shrugs, a smirk struggling not to appear on his plump lips.

"Then one piece of clothing, of choice, comes off." he replies, "Each. time." you pout, feigning innocence.

"But...it's quite cold. Will we not be cold?"

"Well then let's hope we lose fast, so we can warm each other up." he winks and you giggle like an idiot, because of course that's where he was going.

"Bet"

And the rest is history <3

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

[lincolndjarin]

fine art

javi gutierrez x moviestar!reader - installment #1 of sparrow's spectacles

main masterlist - other spectacles - kofi

summary : you were an up and coming actress, javi is your biggest fan, he'd do anything to have meet you.

word count : 3.9k

warnings, tags : dead dove do not eat, !! dark fic !! mdni 18+, noncon, stalker!javi, kidnapping, capture, stockholm syndrome, m&f masturbation, sex toys, briefly mentioned periods, exhibitionism, voyurism, so much internal thought processing regarding readers situation, briefly referenced suicide, reader is undescribed other than briefly being mentioned as young in her acting career, in my head she's late twenties, probs other tags i missed sorry. tldr: you have spent so much time with javi against your will that you unwillingly start fantasizing about him and give in to destructive urges in an attempt to escape him, everything is bad here.

a/n : is this stupid and probably bad? who knows, i have a terrible sense of self judgement lately so i'm just gonna post this and hope it's good. also can you tell that i blatantly stole the set from You LMAO. anyhow this is the first installment of my little 'horror' series. but it's less horror and more just odd little stories i wanted to write tbh

Desk, bed, lamp, television, door, chair.

Desk, bed, lamp, television, door, chair.

Desk, bed, lamp, television, door, chair.

On days where you’re feeling particularly bored you list the things you can see. Unfortunately for you, your surroundings rarely change. Of course you could change that, if you asked him for something he’d give it to you, anything you wanted. Unless of course it was something he thought you could hurt yourself with or contact the outside world with. 

You didn’t often ask. 

Whenever you can have a conversation with him he always says the same thing. 

“If you stopped being so stubborn you might actually be happy.” 

“I would do anything for you.” “Then let me out.” “Anything but that.” 

“It’s not as terrible as you make it out to be. It isn’t an actual cage, it isn’t so bad.” 

So you don’t talk to him unless you have to. 

But some days you’re just so painfully, agonizingly, bored and you can’t help yourself. So you scream at him, or you pound on the unyielding plexiglass, or you hold your hand up against it, hoping he’ll touch the other side and you can briefly imagine yourself having physical contact with another human being. 

Sometimes you’ll even play his games. 

You’ll read the scripts he slides through the small square opening in the cage that can’t be more than a foot wide, and act out scenes with him simply because it gives you something to do and for fucks sake you’re desperate for something to do. It’s so easy to get caught up in him, if it wasn’t so easy you’d probably let yourself do it more often, thankfully, it’s so fucking scary. If you spend too much time in the box you’re worried that eventually you’ll forget that you aren’t a doll and you'll grow to like your box. So you do your damndest to maintain a wall between the two of you, but when that wall is glass it is destined to break eventually. So you scream and you fight until you get tired, and then you let the walls down as you rest, before returning to your struggle. And everytime you let the walls down they take longer to put back up. 

At the end of the day it never matters how you treat him, he loves you all the same. 

Even on days where you scream your throat raw and throw your furniture against the walls, if you ask him to get you takeout from your favorite restaurant, or watch a movie with you, he always will. You asked him about it once. Why didn't he just make you do what he wanted? Why didn’t he just make you obey? He had looked genuinely offended, as if he couldn’t believe you thought him capable of such a thing. 

And he told you that he loved you.

More than anything. 

That you were his most prized possession. 

That he would never do anything to hurt you, it would be like if he were angry and he threw a priceless vase, the only person it would hurt is himself. 

You had nodded as if he was making any sense and you’d turned back to the movie he’d picked out. 

You were a vase. 

You were a collectible. 

A priceless, collectable. He kept you in perfect condition and never took you out of the box. Not even to play with you himself. A small, rather demented part of you, is starting to wish that he would. Of course you don’t want him to force himself upon you, you aren’t that far gone. (Yet.) But it’s been so long since you’ve touched another person. You would give your left arm just to be held. If your calendar serves you well, it’s been just over two years since you last saw someone who wasn’t Javi. 

And Javi wouldn’t touch you. 

Not ever. You were too perfect to be defiled in such a way. He would sometimes hold his hand against the glass when you held up your own, he even kissed you through it once. (Although it had been rather awkward and neither one of you ever talked about it again.) But he never touched you. 

Sometimes you can’t help but wonder what would have happened if you’d met Javi in a social setting. He is rather handsome, and though you hate to admit it, when he isn’t leering he’s almost charming. 

Almost.

Everyday you slip further into the fantasy where Javi does something to break up the monotony. Is that his goal? To make you so desperate for human connection that you eventually snap and beg him to touch you? You shudder as you wonder how long that would take. After the first year you stopped wondering what would happen when he got bored of you. You know deep down that that will never happen. If anything his devotion  for you only continues to grow with each passing day. If it’s possible he probably loves you more now then he did at the start of your stay here. Despite everything he takes care of you, in his own strange sort of way. 

Like how he tracks your cycle, always making sure you have anything you need on those days. Sometimes he even knows it’s starting before you do, he’ll bring you baskets with blankets and candy and any other little trinket or gift he saw that made him think of you. 

Jewelry, little plush toys, and books. Anything to try and make you feel anything other than the misery that constantly loomed over you as you waited for his next visit. He never goes more than a few days without seeing you and he always apologizes when he does. He returns with your favorite shampoo or lotion to make it up to you, but it never really changes how you feel about him. It’s nice to fantasize a world in which you enjoy your only source of company but you’re careful to never let that fantasy bleed into reality. 

If he were actually your partner you’d have locked him down ages ago. A part of you knows that he doesn’t want that kind of relationship with you though. He doesn’t want a girlfriend, you’re much more than that. You’re more like a goddess in a cage to him than an actual human being. A beloved pet bird. It’s clear he feels something more than simple love for you. It’s a devotion, a conscious effort to worship you. 

You are to be kept in pristine condition. 

Of course that doesn’t mean he can’t look. 

Two and a half years. 

That’s how long it took for the looking to escalate into something more. You were watching a movie. 

50 First Dates

You had picked it out, Javi liked action movies but would never complain when you wanted to watch a rom-com. You were on your bed, curled up under the blankets in a hoodie and sweatpants. You haven’t worn makeup since he took you, you rarely brushed your hair, you never put much thought into your appearance, and Javi wouldn’t give you a mirror. 

You had one, a long time ago. Within the first week you’d smashed it, threatening to slit your own throat if he didn’t let you out. All that resulted in was you no longer being allowed to have breakables. Plastic cutlery and paper plates were wordlessly passed to you from that point forward.

You had been watching in silence, he sat on the couch outside the cage like he always did and it wasn’t until you heard a shuddering groan that you turned around to see him kneeling beside the cage, one hand pressed up against the glass, steadying himself, the other wrapped around his cock.  

You were frozen in place. 

What are you supposed to do in that situation? 

You watched, slack jawed as he took his time. His gaze made you feel naked, like he could see through the layers of blankets and baggy clothing. 

He had looked you in the eye when he finished. Briefly staring wide eyed before his eyes squeezed shut and with a long, drawn out moan and a strained cry of your name. His cum painted the glass and before you could form any sort of response he was already stuffing himself back into his pants and standing. You want to say something, anything. Something to hold him accountable for what he just did, but you can’t think of anything, and he’s already leaving. 

Before you can even blink he’s gone, without so much as a glance in your direction. And you’re left alone, in the lamp light, unable to escape the sight of his filth on the glass. Covering your head with a blanket as you waited for it to be late enough for the power to cut out and leave you in a safe, and comfortable darkness. 

A part of you hoped that the white speckles would be gone when you woke up but you weren’t that lucky. 

You faced away from that wall, with your head buried in a book until you looked at the clock and knew it was almost time to face him again. When he returned he had an aura of shame around himself, his arms were full of grocery bags and his eyes were red rimmed and teary. 

“I’m so sorry- I just- I love you so much, I don’t know what came over me.” If this was a normal relationship and the two of you had maybe gotten into an argument or something you would have forgiven him. After all he looked genuinely remorseful as he stared at you, going through the bags before setting down several takeout containers with labels you recognized. He had gone out and gotten all your favorites. Your favorite fast food place, as well as a high end chinese restaurant you loved for special occasions, and a clear plastic case with a slice of your favorite flavored cake from a small bakery near your apartment that you frequented. (You’d never asked him to get you anything from there before, you’d never even mentioned the place to him.) 

Through his mumbled apologies he set down your favorite bubble tea flavor and a water bottle. 

He had passed everything to you through the opening in the cage with trembling hands as he sniffled. Once you had everything he sprayed the drying remnants of his release with Windex, pulling several paper towels off the roll and wiping it until it was as if it never happened. By the time he was finished his cheeks were red and big tears rolled down his face. 

“Hey, it’s okay.” Before you can stop yourself you’re comforting him, as if he’s the victim in this situation. 

“It’s not okay, I don’t want you to think that that’s why you’re here.” He mumbles sadly, letting his forehead hit the glass. Through your disgust for your own words you sense something else.

Opportunity. 

The only chance you’re going to get for escape involves him unlocking the door. Something he hasn’t done since he put you in here in the first place. You’ve tried in the past. Not often, there weren’t very many chances, you had everything you needed here, running water and a bathroom, any other sustenance was provided by him through the little opening. There was so rarely an opportunity, and when there were he always anticipated your plans before you got to put them into motion. But you’ve never tried deception. You think you would have, considering you’re an actress but it had never crossed your mind until just now. You can’t half ass this though. If you decide to do this you will get one chance to do it right. 

Go big or go home. 

“No really, it’s okay. It’s sort of… flattering.” His face drops the second you say it and regret starts creeping in. You’re going to die here. He’s going to keep you here until the day you die and no one will ever know what happened to you. A young starlight, taken out in her prime. 

“It’s not, it’s disgusting.” He tosses the paper towels away, sniffling to himself as he stands with his hands clasped in front of him, swaying anxiously back and forth. You take a seat on your bed across from him, fighting the urge to put your hand on the glass. You don’t want to lay it on too thick, he’ll see right through that. 

“It’s fine, it’s- it’s natural.” You’re struggling to find the right words that make it feel real. At one point you were a rather talented actress but you’re out of practice. “Seriously. Especially from you. It’s really sweet.” Fuck, are you doing too much?

He doesn’t respond. Instead, he chews his lip as he stares at you, you can tell he’s skeptical. He should be. You so rarely speak to him and when you do it’s never to be kind. 

“Actions speak louder than words.” 

Someone said that in a movie Javi picked, you had sat and let him read the scene to you afterwards. 

He wants an actress, you can give him that. You can perform, as long as that’s all it is. If it’s a performance you can keep your wall up. You stumble off the bed, your legs feeling like jelly as you pull open the drawer on your nightstand. 

This plan feels stupider by the minute but you need to commit.

He didn’t gift you sex toys the way he did with other little things to make you happier. But they were always just sort of there. In their original packaging, shoved in your nightstand drawer with a few batteries he’d left as well, they’d been here when you woke up in the cage. You doubt you’ll be able to relax enough to do this without a little help, and you have to be convincing. If you aren’t believable he’s unlikely to trust you in the future. If you fuck this up now you’ll never get another chance. 

It’s a pale pink rabbit. You’d probably never buy something like it for yourself, it looks… expensive. The silicone is smooth against your fingers as you rip open the packaging, twisting the base open to pop in two batteries. Rushing in an attempt to not lose your nerve. When you gather your courage you risk a glance up at him, just fast enough to watch his tongue dart out and wet his lips.

So he does want this. 

Good. 

Pressing the button on the toy makes it buzz to life.  

Okay. 

This isn’t so bad. It’s just masturbating, if you do this for him you can take advantage of the obvious attraction he has for you. Even if it doesn’t work immediately, eventually this ends with him letting you out, or at the very least letting himself in, which is all you need. 

So you get back into bed, and you lean on a stack of pillows before really focusing on him. 

And you ask him the question he didn’t bother to ask you.

“Is this okay?” You hope the trembling in your voice comes off as endearing. 

His throat bobs as he nods. Maybe he doesn’t mind that you’ve been laying it on a little thick. Maybe you’ve denied him your affections for so long that he doesn’t want to risk rejecting any advance from you. No matter how out of the blue it seems/.

You push your sweats down to your ankles before kicking them off the bed. No time for embarrassment or regret now, if he senses hesitation none of this will be worth it. He’s moved to be sitting on the couch directly outside the cage now. His knees pressed together as he sits with his hands in his lap, looking almost comically polite. 

No sense putting off the inevitable. 

It’s been a while, there’s a camera in the corner of the cage so you don’t masturbate often, and when you do it’s late at night, once the lights are off and you can hide under your blanket. You can’t do that now though, that would defeat the purpose. 

You leave the toy off as you shove it down the front of your panties. Pressing the soft head of it against your slit, finding it surprisingly easy to tease your entrance with it. 

Are you wet? 

It’s been a while, that’s why. 

Javi certainly hasn’t wasted any time. If he were sitting any closer he’d be fogging up the glass, his hand is shoved down his pants, his face already flushed red. His usual rigid posture is lost as he leans back into the couch cushions, refusing to tear his eyes off of you. Pulling your bottom lip between your teeth you push the toy into you, holding back a gasp as you swallow. At least it feels sort of good. Good enough to make you wish you’d swallowed your pride and used this before today. 

Your body moves instinctually as your free hand reaches forward to push your panties down and turn the vibe on in one motion, the silicone attachment pressing against your clit as you press the toy deeper into your pussy. It’s a little too easy to relax suddenly. Javi now slowly strokes himself, his cock in his hand, looking painfully hard as he squeezes the base of his shaft, almost as if he’s scared of blowing his load too soon. 

Good. 

The less time it takes the better. 

At least that’s what you tell yourself as you angle the toy, letting the tip of it brush against your g-spot and drawing an authentic moan from you. Fighting the urge to cover your mouth in surprise, you repeat the motion. The combination of sensations making your toes curl and your back arch into the mattress. 

“Fuck-” Your voice catches in your throat, your fingers twitch against the button to turn the vibrations up a level. 

Once you find your rhythm it’s easy to forget about the nerves and what’s at stake. It’s easy to get lost in the sensation and the sight of Javi shuddering as he gasps. It’s easy to focus on the attractive parts of him for a brief moment, to make things easier. And it’s easy to wonder if his cock would feel better than the toy that hums and makes your body tense up deliciously. 

It’s actually terrifying how easy it is. 

It’s enough to make you horrified for just a split second. He wasn’t lying when he said you could be happy if you stopped fighting. Twisted into the pleasure you’re feeling is something else. Relief. Relief for the peace you find when you stop fighting him. You could feel this good all the time if you wanted, you and Javi could have your favorite food for dinner, you could watch your favorite movies, and act out your favorite scenes. 

You could feel good. 

You could have nights like these where you watch him jerk off his pretty, thick cock and know that someone loves you enough to take care of you like this. You could let him buy you pretty things and toys that make you feel so so so good. 

And that thought terrifies you. 

If you stayed in this cage you would eventually become entirely complacent. 

It might not be tomorrow, or next week, or next year, but eventually.

You will be happy to flutter about your cage once you’ve forgotten how to fly. 

His pretty little bird. 

It’s your orgasm that snaps you out of that living nightmare. You hadn’t even realized you’d still been fucking the toy, pleasuring yourself to that little daydream. This wasn’t a good idea and you shouldn’t have done it but it’s too late for that now especially when you’re groaning out his name as you remove the still buzzing toy, now slick with your wetness. Javi’s eyes are wide as he clearly can’t hold back any longer as he dirties his shirt and pants with his own release. 

As you quickly reach for the toy, turning it off, you pull your panties up in a hurry. Maybe you should push your luck and ask him to come into the cage now. A sense of dread is settling in your stomach as you realize that you can’t be here much longer, who knows how quickly you’ll crumble if you keep letting yourself do this. It’s best to make this a swift process where you don’t have any more time to sink into the hell that is acceptance of these four glass walls. 

You’re about to do it. About to tell him that he should join you, that it would feel better for the both of you if he was in the cage as well but you don’t get a chance to as he zips his pants back up.

“Go to bed, when you’re asleep I’m gonna leave you a gift.” He stands abruptly, giving you a reassuring smile before pressing his hand up to the glass. You don’t hesitate to crawl up the length of the bed and press your own to his, it’s brief but you can feel the connection here. 

This is just the beginning. 

After today you’ll put more effort in. You’ll make it happen and you’ll make it happen fast. You can put the time and effort in, it’s not like you have anything better to do. You’ll convince him that it’s real before you lose yourself entirely and when the day finally comes where he opens the door you won’t waste the opportunity. 

You’ll leave your room. 

You can figure out the logistics of it later but for now you take the sleeping pill he slides through the opening every night he visits. You don’t usually take it but you need sleep and this will be easier if he thinks you’re compliant. With a sip of your drink the little pill goes down and your eyes close. 

And you dream that you’re a bird, flying through a blue sky.  

You sleep better than you ever have before in the cage. 

Until you wake, the lamp being on is the only indicator you have that it’s daytime. Your hair stands on end as you sit up. He was here. Things have been moved, little things, noticeable things. Your empty drink is tossed in the bin and it smells of cleaning supplies. He doesn’t ever come inside the cage, that goes against everything he tells you. Your head is spinning as you try to figure out what’s different. How long were you out? The pills have never made you feel this fuzzy before on the rare occasions that you’ve taken them, you do your best to focus but it’s difficult when everything’s so muddled. So you do the one thing you know will clear your head and you list the things you see. 

Desk, bed, lamp, television, chair.

Something’s wrong, different. 

He said he was going to give you a gift. What the fuck did he do? Did he leave it in here? Was it too big to fit through the opening? Is that why he came into the cage? 

You don’t catch it immediately, but there is a note taped to the inside of the glass. 

I knew you’d learn to be happy : ) 

See you tonight.

Love, Javi 

You look back around the room, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

Desk, bed, lamp, television, chair.

Desk, bed, lamp, television, chair.

Desk, bed, lamp, television, chair.

Oh. 

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