#he will be totally unhinged as second will pass

[lightcreators]

@schxdenfreude continue from here

"Hmm. What could have brought on this question... I wonder, I wonder...." Usually, those who begin suddenly asking questions of witches have been burnt in their past, or are chasing after some sort of desire. But this frustration feels different. "Unfortunately, I'm not so kind that I'd divulge the nature of my magic so easily! Perhaps I am an omnipotent with the same skills as a God, or perhaps I brew potions over a cauldron day in and day out, or perhaps I haunt lost children deep in the forest! Ahhhh, I wonder which is the turth! Kihihihii....!"

Witch  had  been  for  too  long  simply  an  word  balanced  to  his  face.  By  what  nonsense  the  Doctor  became  one  ?  What  he  was  exactly  talking  about  with  that  word,  and  why  that  single  term  was  more  powerful  than  be  an  Time  Lord,  huh  ?  He  never  have  been  flattered  by  an  clear  meaning  on  the  matter  …  and  cannot  say  he  loved  his  travels  inside  that  higher  spheres.  Witches  were  crazy.  Witches  were  insane.  Witches  when  that  much  evil  he  feel  truly  offended  to  be  considered  inferior  than  him  ---  the  Master.  Witches  wore  his  name  like  a  veil,  whether  they  were  guardians  of  a  'chessboad'  or  a  traveler,  they  dominated  his  name…and  he  didn't  like  that.  He  was  supposed  to  rule  them  all  ---  to  be  the  Master  of  all  the  witches  !

If  with  Lady  Bernkastel,  his  patience  was  pretty  much  limited  and  his  ability  to  keep  his  calm  was  pretty  much  inexistent  since  she  was  representing  somewhere  a  miracle  he  wanted  to  touch  someday  by  his  hands,  mocking  smile  expressed  itself  as  she  was  referring  magic.  Yeah,  he  had  pretty  much  perceived   it  ---  magic.  Be  fooled  during  centuries.  Be  trapped  inside  an  chessboard  Oh,  even  the  incarnation  of  his  dear  Doctor  be  beautifully  manipulated  as  an  Piece.  ❝  You  are  the  goddesses  of  your  own  universe,  wouldn't  it  be  too  much  to  ask  to  be  a  conceptual  goddess  ?  ❞  He  requested  it  with  an  kind  of  unseen  frustration  who  quite  understood  that  point  still.  Another  laugh  followed  concerning  that  other  definition.  ❝  Cauldrons  used  must  be  very  different  from  those  of  humans.  Compared  to  a  visible  potion,  no  one  knows  when  the  enchantment  started,  let  alone  when  it  will  end.  ❞  Another  laugh  followed.  ❝  Last  one  would  be  so  much  boooooring, don't you think, only unexciting ?  ❞

[botanicsoul]

Behind the Screen

Pro Hero | Bakugou Katsuki x (fem) Blogger Reader | Aged Up

Part 2 -> Here

𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘ 𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘ 𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘ 𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘ 𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘ 𖤣.𖥧. 𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘ 𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘

—

You post it as a joke. Kind of.

It’s late, and you’re curled up in bed with your fanfic draft open and half a Twix in your mouth. Your followers are going wild in the replies, and you’re riding the high of being the “unofficial Dynamight smut queen” of the timeline. You’ve been known for your over-the-top thirst tweets, but this one? This one’s feral.

—

@/blastyourbackout

“Dynamight wouldn’t even take the suit off. He’d fuck you with the gauntlets still on, breathing heavy through gritted teeth, all ‘Shut up and take it—this is what you wanted, right?’”

—

You toss your phone. That’s enough unhinged behavior for the night. Until the morning comes—and you wake up to hell.

Your tweet is trending. His name is trending. People are tagging him.

—

“this is NASTY and i love it.”

“@Dynamightofficial please read this and confirm or deny.”

“If Dynamight didn’t do this, I’d be shocked.”

“SOMEONE CHECK ON HIM”

“@Dynamightofficial thoughts??”

Then it happens.

—

@Dynamightofficial :

“Who tf is behind this account.”

“If you’re gonna talk like that, be brave enough to show your face.”

You nearly throw up. Your DMs? Melted. And sitting right at the top.

[Private Message – @Dynamightofficial]

“You write a lotta shit for someone who hides behind a screen.”

“You really think I’d leave the fuckin’ suit on?”

“Show me your face if you’re gonna say it like you know me.”

Your heart is pounding. And you shouldn’t. But you do. You send a selfie. Just a soft one. T-shirt, messy hair, bare face. You look like someone who absolutely shouldn’t be writing the filth he just read.

There’s a long pause.

He starts to finally type:

“…fuck.”

“You’re cute.”

“like super fuckin’ cute”

“You don’t look like someone who says I’d blow your back out against a fuckin’ window.”

You:

“I mean… would you?”

Him:

“You really wanna know?”

“You clearly think you know it all, writing the way you do.”

“So what—wanna let me show you what it’s really like?”

You pause. Breathless. Fingers trembling.

“Yes.”

⸻

A few days later, the meet-up actually happened.

You gave him your address—half-joking, half-panicking when he immediately replied with a thumbs up and a “Bet.”

You spent the next two days spiraling.

Cleaned every inch of your apartment. Shaved, exfoliated, moisturized places you didn’t even know needed it. Practiced how you’d open the door without looking like you were seconds from passing out. Told yourself it was just casual, just fun, just… whatever. you totally weren’t about to get fucked dumb by your fav pro that you write smut about.

Except it wasn’t. Because now. He’s at your door.

And he’s in the fucking suit.

Mask off. Jaw set. Gloves still on. That big, broad chest rising and falling.

Black and orange, thick with tension and sweat and that sharp smoky scent that clings to him after a patrol. His hair’s a mess. One gauntlet is attached, the other dangling from his hip. And he’s just standing there—broad, massive, silent—like he owns the whole building.

You freeze. Your heart slams.

“…Hi,” you manage to say.

His eyes drag over you—down your legs, over the shorts you probably could’ve made smaller and the tank top that wasn’t technically meant to be seductive, but absolutely became that under stress.

“Damn,” he mutters. “You look even better when you’re nervous.”

You try to laugh but it comes out breathless. “You really wore the suit?”

“uuuh yeah? did you think I was gonna show up here in a hoodie after all the shit you wrote about this thing?” He steps closer. “Thought I’d let you see it up close before I ruined your sheets.”

Your knees go weak.

You try to respond—something witty, something smug—but your words get caught somewhere between your throat and the fact that he’s already inside. Pushing the door shut behind him. Glancing around like he’s checking for cameras, or exits, or maybe just where he’s gonna lay you out first.

“You ready?” he asks, voice low. Rough. Already undoing the gauntlet from his wrist with one hand, tossing it aside.

You nod, dazed. “Yeah.”

He smirks—steps in closer until you’re backed up against the nearest wall, breath catching.

“Good,” he murmurs. “Because I’ve been losing sleep over the way you said I’d fuck you in this suit.”

You stare up at him, completely wrecked just by his presence, and whisper, “Was I right about some of this stuff I wrote?”

He dips his head down, lips brushing yours—barely.

“I’m here to fact check it.” he growls.

You shudder.

He pulls back just enough to smirk, eyes dragging down your body like he’s mentally ripping off every layer.

He hasn’t even touched you properly yet—but your back’s against your door, your legs are trembling, and Bakugou’s towering over you like he’s already won.

“That tweet got me thinkin’ about you all fuckin’ day, baby. Let’s see if you write better when you’re sore.”

His hero suit creaks with every breath. Heavy-duty gauntlets still locked around his wrists. His undersuit clings to him, black and orange and unforgiving across his chest, his thighs—everything.

“You scared?” he asks, voice low. His hand comes up—gloved fingers trailing under your jaw, thumb brushing over your bottom lip. “Or just nervous I’m actually gonna live up to that filthy little imagination of yours?”

Your breath catches.

“…both.”

He smirks. Then his mouth is on yours.

It’s not sweet. It’s not careful. It’s everything you wrote about—demanding, rough, obsessed. He kisses like a man starved. Like he’s been reading your tweets on loop.

And god, when his hand slides down your waist—those big gloved fingers gripping your ass, hoisting you up—your back hits the wall and you let out a soft, stunned whimper.

“That the sound you make when you’re not behind a screen?” he growls, lips dragging along your neck. “Fuckin’ hell, you’re even better in person.”

You try to answer, but he’s already slipping one hand between your thighs, dragging his knuckles over your heat—still covered by your shorts.

“Wrote that I’d be mean with it,” he murmurs. “That I’d tease you. Make you beg.”

His gloved finger presses just right over the damp spot in your underwear.

“So beg.”

Your nails dig into his shoulders. You feel insane.

“P-Please.”

He groans. “That all I get after all those filthy paragraphs?”

“Dynamight—”

His eyes flash. “Katsuki.”

You pant, skin burning.

“Please, Katsuki.”

“Atta fuckin’ girl.”

He carries you to your room practically kicking the damn door down. Your back hits the mattress, but he doesn’t follow right away. He stands at the edge of the bed, breathing heavy, gaze dark and hungry.

His suit’s half-unzipped now—exposing his chest, glistening with sweat and tension—but everything else stays on. That thick black material clings to his arms and thighs like sin. The gauntlets drop to the floor with a heavy thud, but the gloves? Still on. And he flexes his fingers slow—just to watch you squirm.

“You’re fuckin’ dangerous,” he mutters, eyes dragging over your body like he’s trying to memorize it. “Sittin’ there on your little blog, makin’ people think you’ve got me figured out.”

Your thighs squeeze together. He notices. Smirks. “Lemme show you how right you were.”

He crawls over you like a storm. Muscles shifting under his suit, voice dipping low, filthy, as he shoves your shirt up, lips ghosting over your stomach.

You arch when his teeth graze your hip. “Katsuki—”

“That’s right, baby,” he mutters, pulling your shorts off slow. “Say my name when you write about this later too.”

He pushes your thighs open, and he goes down. Tongue eager. Desperate. He eats you out like he’s proving a point—like he’s got something to prove to every single tweet you’ve ever posted. Groaning into you, gripping your thighs tight like he wants to leave handprints. You’re moaning, shaking, gripping the sheets, and he’s just eating it up—literally.

He comes up with his mouth slick and eyes wild. “Not even close to done with you.” And he isn’t.

He flips you. Presses you into the mattress. One hand on your hip, the other grabbing your wrist and dragging it up the bed.

“Hold that headboard, princess.” You feel him line up—still in the damn suit—and your breath catches as he sinks in.

Slow. Deep. Bruising.

“Fuck,” he hisses, jaw clenched. “You feel like I imagined. So fuckin’ tight, so wet—shit.”

You cry out. He starts moving. Harder. Deeper.

Every stroke is a claim. His hand slides down your back, then back up to wrap around your throat—not choking, just holding. Just letting you feel it.

“Write about this next time” he growls into your ear. “Write about about me makin’ you cum multiple fuckin’ times.”

You whimper—high, breathy, wrecked.

“That’s right. Take it. You wanted this.”

“I did,” you gasp. “I wanted you—”

“You fuckin’ got me now.”

When you fall apart—completely, wildly, back-arching and moaning his name like a prayer—he doesn’t stop. Doesn’t even slow.

Because he’s obsessed now. Addicted.

Your thighs are trembling. Your voice is hoarse. Your sheets are a mess—twisted, damp, clinging to your skin like the heat of him isn’t already enough.

He’s still going.

“One more,” he grits out, thrusts snapping into you slow and deep. “C’mon, baby—just one more for me.”

You’re barely hanging on—nails dragging helplessly down his back, vision blurry with overstimulation, body trembling under him as he rocks into you, all tight grunts and low, broken groans.

“You’re fuckin’ perfect,” he pants, sweat dripping down his temples. “Takin’ me so good—fuck—you feel like you were made for me.”

You moan, shattered.

He growls, fucks you harder, chasing his release like a wildfire. And when he finally gets there—when you clench around him, gasping out his name in a breathless sob— He snaps.

“Knew it,” he groans, hips stuttering. “Knew I’d fill this pussy the second I saw you.” oh, and he does. Deep. Warm. Heavy. Flooding you.

He keeps moving—shallow, deep rolls—just to push it in. Just to feel it drip. Just to make it last. His head drops to your shoulder, lips brushing your skin.

You barely register him pulling out until you feel it—messy, hot, dripping down your thighs.

“fuuuck you’re beautiful” he murmurs smirking down at you. Wrecked, ruined, glowing. He lays down beside you, just looking at you like you were a fucking trophy.

He then reaches for his phone.

—

[New Tweet – @Dynamightofficial]

“Just fact-checked one of your little fantasy tweets. 11/10 accuracy. Would reread. Would re-enact.”

—

You see what’s he doing and it snaps you out your daze, your eyes go wide. “You didn’t—!”

“Too late,” he shrugs. “Let ‘em guess which one it was.”

You grabbed your phone just as quick to quote it.

—

[New Tweet – @blastyourbackout]

“Just know the gloves stayed on.”

—

The internet breaks.

You can barely feel your legs.

And Katsuki Bakugou? THE pro hero Dynamight?

He’s already rolling over, tugging you to his chest, muttering in your ear, “Hope you’re not tired, princess. I’ve got a lot more tweets to prove right.”

[lovverletters]

made with love . . !

yan baker x gn reader

tw/ soft to unhinged yan, huge misunderstanding, murders, implied stalking, implied bugging ur house, typical yan behaviour, implied food tampering 'special' ingredients : possibly human remains, bodily fluids, 100% love.

this was long. enjoy it my pearlings ❤

. . . 🍒

the first time you stumbled upon a quaint little bakery was on valentine's day. you were planning on picking up a few pastries to enjoy while you spend the day on your own again.

you were surprised to see that it had only a few patrons inside as you enter the bakery, the doorbell ringing as you walked through the door. behind the counter was whom you presume is the owner.

despite the back breaking labour combined with managing the establishment all by himself, he surprisingly looked quite. . . attractive. you shook your silly thoughts away.

are you really that lonely that you're starting to find someone attractive at most random times?

regardless you're here for a reason. to get some treats to indulge in while watching the tv show you have been putting on hold due to your hectic schedule. you'll just pretend that your pet counts as having a company for valentines.

"welcome! you're just in time, the goods are all fresh out of the oven" he enthusiasticly greets while carefully handling a huge tray of steaming hot bread.

now that he mentions it, you had been so distracted by your own thoughts to notice the strong aroma of fresh baked goods that's wafting in the air. your mouth almost salivates as you noticed him stocking up your favourite sweets, [f/s].

it looked appetizing enough to tempt you, if the taste is anything like the appearance. . . you're probably going to buy at least 15 of those.

once again lost in your own world, you didn't notice the curious look the baker had given you. it was endearing really, never had he met someone whom were so enthralled by a pastries in his life. plus, you were a first time customer of his too.

he's pretty sure you're a local, he had seen you walk passed his bakery countless time before but it's a different experience to see you in front of him.

"do you like [f/s]? that's my specialty actually" he lies for absolutely no reason. other than to impress you of course.

don't blame him for shooting his shot, you're a catch!

"uh yeah. i'll take 15 of those, please" you averted your eyes at the last part.

the baker only smiled, he was unfazed and bagged up your pastries. but he also bagged up 5 more of [f/s] in a separate bag and placed it at the counter where you're standing at, eager to get home and eat your sweets.

though you noticed the separate bag he placed next to the larger bag. before you could say anything about it he beat you to the punch.

"that's some extra ones free of charge!"

you were stunned. that was unexpected but not unwelcomed. though it did make you a little shy to accept.

"are you sure? you don't have to"

"yeah. take it as a freebie for your first visit to my humble bakery" he assures you.

oh hell yeah. what a great service.

"thanks, i'll be sure to swing by again soon" you took the receipt and waved at the baker as you walked back to your apartment.

you took a bite out of one of the [f/s], it was delicious as you expected. the baker wasn't kidding when he said it was his specialty.

guess you'll be visiting the bakery again soon.

. . . 🍒

it didn't take that long for you to become a regular customer of his.

first of all, the bakery is close to your apartment. second, his baked goods and pastries were absolutely delectable. third and most importantly,

the owner is hot and a total eye candy for you to oogle at.

you're pretty sure anyone would agree after taking one look at him. his body, hardened by the years of hardwork and labour were muscular in all the right places. despite spending a lot of time near a hot oven, he still mantains a youthful look.

if he was single, maybe you'd try to ask him out. maybe though.

cling!

the doorbell rings as you walked in to the bakery after a long day at work. it was quite late, you're surprised he's still open. regardless, you're here to snag some [f/s] and maybe other things that caught your eye.

"hey welcome! great to see you again"

he smiles and greets you as he saw you enters. it's a kind smile, you assumed he gives it to everyone but in your most non delusional opinion, you think he smiles a bit differently when it comes to you. it's wider and sweeter.

"yeah i'm here for the usual. oh, can i get that cheese bread too" nothing wrong with a little bit of cheese action.

"on it!" he breezes through, packing your goods diligently and carefully. once again, you noticed him sneaking in an extra [f/s] again but at this point you already gave up trying to stop him.

"you know you don't have to always give me extras right?"

he simply gave you a coy smile while he rings you up. his eyes widened a fraction and a tinge of blush appeared as your fingers brushed together when he handed the receipt to you.

"but i wanted to though. nothing wrong with being generous to a loyal customer" he lied. he's doing it because he's got a thing for you.

"well, thanks again. i'll try to drop by again tomorrow after workㅡ i think i'm working overtime" you told him. it slips out naturally now that the two of you were somewhat acquainted, at least you were on friendly terms.

"see you tomorrow! thanks for stopping by, [name]!"

he watches as you walks back to your apartment, his eyes not leaving your form until it completely disappears from his line of sights.

he sighed.

did he seriously fell in love with someone he saw regularly? he barely interacts with you outside of the few conversations he'd strike up in a desperate attempt to talk to you. he wanted to be closer to you.

when he got your name, he considers it a big progress in him asking you out. plus, you seems to be interested in him too. he just needs to man up and ask you out the next time you visits.

oh right. he needs to prepare the next batch of [f/s] for tomorrow.

maybe he'll even add something special just for you.

. . . 🍒

you were going to ask him out.

at least that's what you were going to initially until you saw an unexpected sight. you have always presumed he was single, both of you were mutually subtly flirting with each other.

then who is that woman clinging onto him? their proximity was close enough that you no friends and family would ever be. you couldn't see his face but there was a tilt to his lips and he wasn't pushing her away.

your heart stuttered in horror, you were flirting with a taken man?!

"im not about to be label a homewreckㅡ hell no" you shook your head in disbelief.

are you heartbroken? slightly but it pales to the horror of realising you almost made a move on someone's boyfriend or husband. either way a taken man. then embarassment sets in, maybe you've read the signs wrong? maybe he wasn't flirting with you, he was just being nice.

you were just delusional and now you're paying the price. damn that rhymes.

as you were about to walk away, you accidentally ran into someone. great . double the embarassment for today. you were about to apologize when the person stops you, you'd recognized that voice.

"mikael?" it's your best friend from high school.

"clumsy as ever, [n/n]~" he has shit eating grin on his face, something never changes for some people.

he's been a great friend of yours ever since high school up to your uni years. you both lost contact once he moved away, you were sad then but you knew you'll meet him again someday.

you just didn't expect that day to be when you found your crush is possibly married and you nearly became a homewrecker. guess there's always a rainbow after a storm.

"fuck off, you just caught me at a bad time" you scoffed. mikael still had his arms around you, you noted.

"yeah sureㅡ"

clank!

you both turned to the sound of a glass breaking from inside the bakery. then your eyes widened, the baker was looking at you. eye widened, pupils shaking and a bloodied hand. under his feet were shards of broken glasses that he had crushed within his grip.

uh. why is he giving you a look as if you've cheated on him?

the woman who was previously clinging to him, shouts in worry and tried to grab his hand to patch him up but he didn't move an inch. he was rooted at the spot and kept glaring at youㅡ no not at you.

he was glaring at mikael. if he could throw daggers with stares alone, mikael would've been dead by now.

you felt awkward and decided to drag your friend along with you to your apartment. guess you won't be visiting for a while to that bakery.

what's his deal? you wonder.

. . . 🍒

okay. it didn't take long for you to come back to the bakery.

you don't know what he put in his baked goods but goddamnit you're hooked for life. though, you're a bit nervous to face him after the incident. you wanted to ask him so much questions but you realised that you two weren't exactly the closest.

whatever. you're here for [f/s]. you repeated the mantra in your head.

huh. you swore it hadn't been that late but the bakery lights had dimmed. almost as if preparing to close for the day. when you walked in, the air felt stuffy unlike the usual homey feeling to it.

"god. . what's this smell?" the entire place smells rotten with a tangy stentch of metal. it doesn't smell anything like a fresh out of the oven smell of baked goods. it smelled likeㅡ

death.

the baker walks out from the back area, he still had a smile plastered on his face. in his hands were a tray of [f/s] but you couldn't help but feels something off about that particular batch.

"welcome back, [name]. you hadn't stopped by in a while, i was starting to miss you" he said. his was voice devoid of warmth contrary to the smile on his face.

you gulped. something's not right.

". . . yeah. work has been crazy umㅡ can i have the usual" you tried to keep your cool, your instinct screams for you to bolt.

he nods enthusiasticly, bagging up the [f/s] on the tray instead of the ones already in display. you couldn't help but cringe as one of the [f/s] looked soggyㅡ you wanted to ask him about it but your voice was stucked in your throat.

"i made these especially for you. i knew you were going to drop by today so i made a separate one with . . some new secret ingredients for you!" there was a manic glint in his eyes and it's freaking you out.

you snag one of the suspicious [f/s] before he could take it and tore it open with your handㅡ you're not brave enough to eat it. the inside content, instead of a sugary delight was a mush of red. it's too fleshy to be a berry filling and most noticably, it reeks of blood.

you dropped it immediately, disturb by what you had seen. you looked at the baker who was now standing behind you, his arms wrapped around you. he buried his face in the crook of your neck and breathes in your scent.

your body is shaking with paralyzing fear. if it hadn't been for him holding you up, you would've crumbled on the floor.

"mikael" was all he said. your eyes widened, he couldn't meanㅡ

"what did you do to him?!" you shouted at him, demanding explanation. if this was a prank, it's a cruel one.

"now, now. there's no need to raise your voice at me, sweetheart. i'll say this once and i need you to hear it" the baker only shushes you down with his gloved hands. a cruel smile stretched across his lips.

"that. is mikaelㅡ or was mikael. but i did mixed in that irritating bitch" he pointed at the lumpy fleshy mess that was spilling out of the [f/s].

"whaㅡ"

"tell me [name], you could've asked me to clear the misunderstanding. but you ran away with that bastard instead" he sneers as he recalled the day something shifted within him.

he grasps your face and his grip was gentle enough that it won't hurt you but strong enough to keep you in place.

"that bitch. you thought she was my girlfriend right? you could've been any more wrongㅡ she was someone i knew from back then. i had always ignored her but that day she crossed the line" he was shaking with anger, he was going to pop a vein from how enraged he was.

"it was because of her. you ran away to him because of her" his grip was tightening around you.

he inhales sharply, trying to calm himself down before he loses himself completely. the hands on your face fell to his side. you flinched as he buries his face in your shoulder, you couldn't see what his expression he's making but you had a feeling it's frightening.

"but why did you have toㅡ" you choked on your words.

you couldn't bring yourself to say it. the fact that mikael and that woman had been killed by this maniac. from the corner of your eyes, you saw his fists balled up. it was as if he was restraining his anger.

"they deserve it. if it hadn't been for them, we could've been so great. everything was falling into places until they messes it all up!"

huh?

"you wanted to ask me out, i heard you say it before you go to bed every night. that dayㅡ i could've have you but those bastards just have to ruin it for me"

how did heㅡ!

"were you stalking me?!" you were beyond scared by now. this man is an absolute creep and now a murderer.

finally he lifts his face, your heart dropped to your stomach. he had a lovesick look to his faceㅡas if he hadn't confessed to stalking you.

"i love you, [name]. will you be mine?"

what have you gotten yourself into.

[wingedhallows]

hi ! you asked me to send you my request here (i hope this is working though, i'm still trying to figure out how the app works...) so that you don't forget about it, so here it is again :

just noticed you wanted us to send you asks so here i am :) unfortunately, i don't have any great inspiration to share with you at the moment… anything with vi or ellie williams (my girlsss) is always nice to see. but other than that, completing basketball!vi x ballerina!reader would be super cool, if it's something you'd be happy to do, of course ! (yup, i'm still obsessed with that one…)

bye 🫶 have a great day !

𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐑𝐄 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐄𝐂𝐓

♒︎ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 loser!ellie x reader / 1.2 k words ♒︎ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 none ♒︎ 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 HI !! I'm totally working on 'labyrinth love' right now, maybe i'll drop the last part tonight! this is a little something that's been sitting in my drafts & i think you'll like it (hopefully) so, here u go!!

♡︎ 𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 ♡︎

You’re all crammed into Dina’s apartment—some shitty couch, a couple floor cushions, an overturned laundry basket being used as a table.

Music low, drinks half-finished, someone’s passed out in the corner with a blanket that definitely smells like weed and regret.

And Ellie? Ellie’s on the floor, back against your knees, launching into the most insane rant you’ve ever heard.

“…I’m just saying,” she says, hand flailing with a cheeto between her fingers, “If birds wanted to be evil, they totally could. Like, they’ve got flight and hollow bones and talons. You ever seen a goose, man? Those things are demonic.”

The room is silent for half a beat.

“Anyway,” she adds, like she’s just delivered a TED Talk, “that’s why I never trust anything with wings and an attitude.”

Jesse blinks slowly. “Dude, what the fuck?”

But you?

You’re grinning. Fingers carding through Ellie’s hair absently, like you love hearing her unhinged theories about avian world domination. You lean down a little and whisper near her ear, “so… if I wore wings, would you be scared of me?”

Ellie’s neck goes red in an instant. “What—no—wait—maybe? I mean, not in a bad way! Like, in a cool, terrifying, kinda hot way—”

“Jesus Christ,” Jesse mutters. “She’s in love.”

“She’s doomed,” Dina adds, sipping from her beer.

But Ellie’s barely listening—because she’s twisted halfway around to look up at you, and you’re still smiling at her, still stroking her hair, still looking at her like she’s the smartest, funniest person alive.

And she’s melting.

“You’re, like…” she breathes, squinting. “Really pretty.”

You blink, caught off guard for half a second.

“…Thanks, babe.”

“No, like. Really. It’s a problem. You’re smiling at me and I forget how words work. And my brain just goes: pretty. smile. girlfriend. And then there’s just static up here.”

She taps her forehead with two fingers, completely serious.

And you just laugh—soft and sweet—and lean down to press a kiss to her temple.

The room erupts.

“OH MY GOD,” Jesse groans, falling back on the couch like he’s been shot. “How the hell did Ellie pull her?”

“I feel like I’m watching a golden retriever date a goddess,” Dina mutters. “It’s disturbing.”

Ellie turns scarlet, burying her face in your thigh. “Don’t listen to them,” she mumbles. “They’re just jealous.”

You smile down at her, hand curling under her chin to tilt her up again.

“I think you’re perfect.”

Ellie malfunctions. Fully. Stares at you with big, round eyes like you just offered to marry her on the spot.

She mouths perfect? like she’s never heard the word before.

And all you do is nod.

Because you mean it.

Ellie’s still staring up at you, stunned, her face half-buried in your thigh. Everyone else has moved on to another round of some dumb card game Jesse’s pitching, but she’s still stock-still.

You called her perfect.

Her. Ellie “accidentally-walked-into-the-wrong-classroom-and-sat-there-for-40-minutes” Williams. Ellie who once used a sock to hold her blunt ‘cause she lost her lighter and burned her thumb last time. Perfect.

“You good, babe?” you murmur, hand gently brushing her cheek.

She blinks. “Yeah. Yeah, no, I’m chill. Totally chill. Just, y’know, experiencing a full emotional reboot. It’s fine.”

You giggle and press another kiss to the top of her head, and she whines softly into your leg like she can’t handle the affection.

Eventually, someone mentions it’s past one, and the room starts to empty out. You tug Ellie up by her hoodie strings, and she stands like she’s been resurrected, slinging her bag over her shoulder and mumbling something about “walking you back.”

Outside, it’s cool and quiet. The kind of early campus stillness where every window glows soft yellow and the street lamps flicker like they’re just as tired as the students.

You lace your fingers through hers, and she tenses for half a second before relaxing—then squeezing back.

She glances sideways at you. “So. Uh. I meant to ask. That thing you said back there—was that, like, real? Or were you just saying it ‘cause I said your smile makes my brain explode?”

You stop walking and tug her back a little, fingers still locked. “You mean the perfect thing?”

Her whole face goes red again. “That’s the one.”

You shrug, playful. “Guess you’ll have to get used to hearing it.”

She stares. “You’re gonna kill me. You’re actually gonna kill me. Death by girlfriend compliment. Local lesbian found deceased on sorority row sidewalk.”

You grin. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m in love,” she says immediately, too fast, too much. And then realizes, slapping a hand over her mouth.

“Oh my god, ignore that, that was—that slipped out, I didn’t mean to—well I did, but I didn’t mean to say it, not like that, I was gonna wait ‘til, like, Valentine’s Day or a meteor shower or something cool—”

You stop her with a kiss. Gentle. Quick. Just enough to make her forget what planet she’s on.

When you pull back, she’s blinking, dazed. “…was that a good kiss or a ‘shut up, loser’ kiss?”

You smile. “Both.”

She huffs. “Rude.”

But you’re smiling at her with that look again—the one that says she’s yours, chaos and all—and she leans in close, bumping her forehead to yours.

“I meant it,” she mumbles. “Even if it was an accidental I-love-you. I do.”

You tilt your head, whisper back, “Me too.”

Ellie practically floats the rest of the way to your dorm. You part with another kiss, and she’s halfway down the hall before she turns around, walking backward and beaming.

“You still think I’m perfect?”

You laugh. “I think you’re mine.”

And that’s all it takes. Ellie bolts out of sight before you see the way she pumps her fist in the air, quietly muttering, “holy shit, holy shit, I have the best girlfriend on earth.”

She’s standing in the middle of her room. Hoodie still half-on, phone gripped like it’s both her lifeline and her greatest threat.

Her cat’s staring up at her from the bed, judgmental as hell.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she mutters, flopping onto the mattress. “You didn’t see her. She said I’m hers. I had no choice but to fall apart.”

The cat blinks.

Ellie’s phone buzzes.

[You]: made it back okay? [You]: you looked like you were floating

She groans, punches her pillow a little, and then types back:

[Ellie]: i was not floating [Ellie]: i am very grounded. like a normal person. a grounded, non-floating person who is extremely chill and not thinking about your lips at all.

Immediate regret.

She throws the phone face down on the bed.

The cat meows. “I panicked, okay?”

Buzz.

[You]: you’re so dumb. i’m smiling so hard it hurts [You]: love you, loser. goodnight.

Ellie clutches her phone to her chest and lets out a long, dreamy “fuck.”

Then she whispers it again, grinning “She loves me.”

[lacevenom]

the pack if you give them the “fuck me” eyes ☆ 𓂂 ˚ ☆. ꙳

A/N : i saw this one with the Cullens so i thought i’d make one with the pack lmao. also credits to that person

EMBRY CALL

he freezes like literally short-circuits.

“…did you just— no wait, no. you did. you totally just did that.”

he tries to act calm but fails miserably.

his ears are bright red. his voice drops like three octaves. “you lookin’ at me like that on purpose, baby? you trying to start something?”

he’s already halfway across the room picking you up by the waist before you can blink. “Couch or bedroom? Pick fast.”

JACOB BLACK

Immediate cocky grin. he lives for this. “you really wanna play with fire, huh?” he’d lean back in his chair like he’s chill, but you can literally see his hands clenching. “say it. If you want me, use your words, sweetheart.”

(he’s teasing you, but his jeans are already way too tight.)

PAUL LAHOTE

he growls. like out loud and flares hot in 0.02 seconds. “try me. i dare you.” he physically has to stop himself from tossing you over his shoulder in front of everyone. “keep looking at me like that and I’m gonna give you exactly what you’re asking for.”

he’s unhinged, your honor.

QUIL ATEARA

he blinks and blinks again. “…wait. Was that the—was that the thing?”

then he realises it was.

his eyes go comically wide and he’s stammering. “o-oh. um. uh. cool. that’s cool. i’m cool.” five seconds later: “nope. not cool. i need five minutes. or forever.”

he turns into the neediest cuddler ever and lowkey begs you to stop looking at him like that because he can’t take it.

JARED CAMERON

he starts laughing a little too cocky. “ohhh, so that’s what we’re doing now?”

he Immediately texts Paul: “she just hit me with the look™. pray for me.” before he comes over to you, pulls you close by the hips and whispers in your ear: “don’t do that unless you mean it, angel.”

he’s joking, but he’s absolutely not kidding.

SAM ULEY

his jaw tenses so hard. he’s usually so composed but one look from you like that and he’s got his hand around your wrist, pulling you closer. “careful.”

dead serious voice, but there’s fire behind his eyes. “don’t look at me like that unless you’re ready for what comes next.”

he has you pinned against a wall five minutes later.

ADULT SETH CLEARWATER

poor baby boy goes bright red and trips over a chair. “I—I, uhh—was that—?”

he sputters and stammers trying to act normal but literally can’t form sentences.

you give him the eyes again. he blinks and passes out.

[thenightwolf51]

What if Jack and Maddie Fenton were actually Jack and Janet Drake?

The Drakes are their actual identities but they created the Fentons as a why of letting loose, of getting to be their truest most unhinged selves and pursue their true passion without the eyes of high society Gotham judging them.

Whenever the Drakes are supposedly out of the country on archeological digs they are actually in a little no where town in the midwest.

The Drake wealth is perfectly capable of funding their experiments and prototypes and every now and then they do show up to a dig for a week or too, but the Fentons are who they truly are.

So of course Gotham never finds out about Janet's first pregnancy and little Jasmine is welcomed into the world as an Amity Park Fenton, not a Gotham Drake. Janet's second pregnancy however.

Well as i said, the Fentons are who they truly are at their most unhinged and unfiltered. And upon finding out that their having a set of identical twins, well, can you really blame them for passing up this perfect opportunity to test Nature vs. Nurture.

One boy would be a wealthy Drake raised as an only child in a hostile city, the other would be a Fenton raised with his older sister in a peaceful small town.

That's what they decide and thats what they do, and everything is as cannon goes. Tim doesn't know that his parents "archeological digs" are really an excuse to spend most of their time as the Fentons, and Danny and Jazz don't know that the longer "ghost conventions" are an excuse to handle Drake affairs and check on their unknown brother.

At least until things start to get complicated.

(Im not sure if Maddie fakes Janet's death or if she really dies, and if Jack's coma is fake or real and he lost his Fenton memories. Or maybe the death and coma dont happen at all and the truth comes out some other way like Danny finding the Nature vs. Nurture notes or a school trip to gotham or maybe Jazz desides to go to college in Gotham and it comes out that way somehow.

This obviously works best as a "bad parents Jack and maddie" though how bad they are can be entirely up to you. Maybe everything comes out sometime after a "reveal gone right" and Danny and Jazz think their parents are getting better only to be smacked in the face by the betrayal of "secret billionaire parents who essentially abandoned their brother"

Dont know but im tossing it to the void.

To me the most important scenes in this idea is Tim angst at the fact that his parents were never actually too busy to be there for him and had instead chosen no to be there, the somewhat bitter consolation of learning that even when their parents were physically there they still weren't there there for his siblings, and then some good ole slightly unhinged sibling bonding.

Maybe the measuring of ecto contamination and debate in if their parents presence did more damageto their health or less

They honestly might be tied on mental and physical scars. All three kids tend to come with headcanons about neglect and malnourishment)

@hdgnj @omnicrafts @im-totally-not-an-alien-2 @tathartiel @0mnicrex @ailithnight @little-pondhead

[weepingtalecowboy]

Fanfiction prompt: considering that wind can see ghosts but instead of hiding it he thinks that everyone can see them because everyone has dealt with supernatural forces

Main while the chain is freaking out because wind keeps talking to nobody and telling them that their his friends or the most unhinged statement he is enemies with the stripes guy who always stands menacingly in a corner trying to be cool (fierce deity)

And the chain starts to worry about wind badly because that is not sane behavior

While another part of the chain (particularly twilight) doesn’t take it THIS seriously because he remembers how Colin spent weeks complaining about his imaginary friend not playing with him and that children can be imaginative especially when bored and that only making him a new toy got him to play with his friend again

And that ends up in the chain thinking that wind must be incredibly bored because they walk all day and not letting him explore and play with bugs and they decided to fix it (but quickly realized that they are in the middle of a forest with nothing particularly interesting)

Wind main while has absolutely no idea what to do with the hand made toy lobster (legend definitely can sew like have you seen him and the ton of outfits he has) or the Fact that Wolfie seems particularly persistent to play fetch ..!.,?! What is going on!? (Twilight quickly realized that he is dog shaped and he also feels extremely guilty that wind is only walking with them)

But also he definitely can’t throw it away because the legend clearly put effort into the thing and he does love lobsters

And he would rather die than let the chance pass to play with Wolfie (that guy never has fun and nobody can make him play anything and the look of pure envy from Wild was totally worth it he is Wolfie's new favorite now , screw you wild)

But unfortunately that one extra toy seems to do nothing about Wind's insistence to talk with walls

And Wolfie tries really really hard to be more interesting than the walls ( he is failing because ghosts will always be more interesting )

The second they enter a town every single link with money goes to ransack the entire town for toys

And wind catches on about their concerns with his mental state and realizes that explaining them how he can see ghosts would probably confirm to them he is crazy

He awkwardly takes the toys and rearranges them in a way that every ghost is next to a toy so that the chain can stop complaining about him because now he has the excuse that he is totally talking to his toys and not any other beings or voices or walls

The chain is happy because they can almost always see him talk to the toys and play with them (the dread they feel when he keeps naming them after dead loved ones of them is something but maybe it is just a coincidence)

Then they catch him playing a game and it’s just the lobster who apparently is named after legend and the bird who he named Marin (Wind was totally only re-enacting Marin's story because he is definitely an adult and only doing the logical thing)

Time later sees him with Wild's majora’s mask (that sits with its face turned like it’s trying not to look at someone) while Wind keeps talking about a big guy with stripes on his face and how he tried to be cool when defeating the demon (war flashbacks activated because that stripes guy seems very familiar)

And legend gets an aneurysm because that lobster story strikes way to close to home for him

They take way to long to figure out in this one (they are the heroes of courage not wisdom afterall)

[inuiiwonderland]

You like him a lot but later realize that he doesn’t like you in that way. You then decided to give up on your feelings for him and move on. And move on you did. You fell in love with somebody else and he later fell in love with you, but it was already to late.

A/n: This is a request for @mwankami! I’m so sorry for this being late but here you go! I hope you like it🙃 (I’m sorry if the characters seem ooc😞 I haven’t played twst in a fat minute) also I didn’t know if you wanted reader to be female or male so I just made it gn! Anyways I hope you still like it!

-

Floyd leech

You could only stare longingly at him as he messed around with his teammates.

He looks so beautiful

You were so busy staring at him that you didn’t hear your friend calling your name from beside you until he pinched your arm.

“Ow! What the hell ace!”

“Finally! I was calling your name so many times now! What were you staring at anyways?” You look directly back at floyd and that was enough to answer his question. Ace groans.

“Ugh don’t tell me you were looking at Floyd again”

“I was not” You lied. Causing ace to roll his eyes.

“You definitely were” You just ignored him and grabbed your bag from off the floor as you stood up.

“Hey where are you going? Practice isn’t over for a few more minutes!”

“I’m going back to my dorm. I have a presentation for Mr. crewel class and I want to get it done with early”

“Ughh fine. But text me once you're done!” You waved him off and walked away. But not before taking one last look at Floyd before exiting out the gym.

-

Your friends always question you about your “small” crush on the unhinged tall eel boy. Always saying how can you like someone like Floyd leech? The scary second year who likes to mess and bother anyone and the Floyd leech with unpredictable mood swings.

But you never really cared about their opinions on Floyd.

You find Floyd to be very beautiful.

His fair skin and tall height really caught your interest. But what captured your attention the most were his eyes. The pretty heterochromia eyes that he has really puts you in a trance and you could stare at them for hours.

Floyd leech has you deeply head over heels for him

But the thing is…Floyd doesn’t seem to like you in that kind of way.

He likes you as a friend yes but as a crush no. That’s the only thing that’s stopping you from telling him your feelings.

You sigh as you make your way back to your dorm. Maybe you should just give up on floyd. You already dropped so many obvious hints about your feelings for him but he is either oblivious or doesn’t feel the same and is ignoring your obvious hints.

“Oh floyd…what are you doing to me”

-

4 months later

Today is night raven college basketball team's big game against royal sword academy.

Cheers could be heard in the gym as everyone cheered for the night raven basketball team. You remember ace excitedly telling you about their big game a few weeks ago and that you should definitely come instead of being locked away in your dorm like always.

And of course you came. You didn’t want to disappoint ace by not showing up to his basketball game.

“C’mon you got this ace!” You and your friends cheered. Ace looks up at you guys and smiles before passing the ball to one of his teammates.

As the game continued, You couldn’t help but stare at one specific player.

His long brown hair tied up in a bun and the total concentration looked on his face as the game grew more intense.

You practically have heart in your eyes.

You all cheered loudly as he managed to shoot a score which resulted in night raven winning against RSA. You cheered loudly and felt your heart skip a beat as jamil looked at you and winked.

You ran down the bleachers and congratulated Ace before walking up to Jamil and congratulating him on the win.

“You did amazing out there!”

“Thank you y/n” He smiles. You two began to talk, unaware of the pair of eyes staring both of you down.

He frowns as he watches how nervous and giddily you were around jamil.

“What’s with that frown dear brother? You just won against the royal sword academy basketball team. You should be smiling” Jade teased. He was fully aware of what caused his brother's mood to instantly change.

“I’m going back to the dorm” Floyd tells his brother before exiting out the gym doors.

Floyd leech is in love with you. But sadly, he fell in love when you started moving on.

Now he’s the one who’s head over heels

And it’s already too late

-

Jade leech

“Are you listening y/n?” You blinked a couple times before mentally cursing yourself once you notice that you have completely spaced out.

Jade beautiful mismatched eyes stared at you as you hurriedly looked away while mumbling something underneath your breath. Already feeling shy and embarrassed.

“ ‘m sorry jade. I didn’t mean to space out” Jade smiles.

“Don’t worry y/n. Are you sure you're alright though? We can study another time if you’re not feeling well”

“Oh no! I was just thinking about something! Let’s continue studying”

“Oh? Are you sure?”

“Hundred percent sure! Don’t worry”

The two of you continue to study for the next hour. Every so often you would sneak glances at jade and watch as he reads through some notes while asking if you understand the subject.

You tried your best to concentrate, you really did! But his smooth, calm voice and beautiful heterochromia eyes were easily distracting you from paying attention.

The study session between the two of you soon came to an end and you had to stop yourself from asking him to stay for at least a few more minutes.

“I’m looking forward to our next study session. And good luck on tomorrow’s test” He says as he packs up his things. The two of you bid each other goodbye and you watched as he walked further and further away from your dorm. Once he was gone, you walked quietly back to your room as Floyd words ran through your head.

“Sorry shrimpy, but it seems like jade doesn’t like you in that way”

“Ah really?”

“He said he only sees you as a friend. Aw man and I was starting to get excited to have you as my in law! Stupid jade” You giggled at your friend. Ignoring the throbbing pain in your heart knowing that jade doesn’t like you back.

-

7 months later

You walk down the empty halls of night raven. It was lunchtime so everyone was in the cafeteria. You make your way outside with two trays and smile once you spot a certain someone.

He was leaning against a tree with his eyes closed. You could tell that he was asleep.

“Silver” You call out. You gently lay down both of the food trays before shaking silver awake. He slowly opens his eyes and your heart skips a beat once his beautiful violet irises meet yours.

“I brought you your lunch” You say as you sit comfortably beside him. You hand him his tray and he smiles at you.

“Thank you y/n”

“No problem. So, how’s training going so far?”

The two of you chatted for the rest of lunch time. Talking about how your day has been so far and other stuff. The two of you were so engrossed by the conversation that you two didn’t hear someone calling out your name from the distance.

Jade watches as you laugh at whatever silver said as his cheeks grow pink and he’s looking at you so lovingly.

“Man seems like jellyfish got to them before you” Floyd says behind him. Jade just watches as you feed silver some of your food. He swears he could see the hearts in your eyes as you feed silver.

He forces a smile. Ignoring the throbbing pain in his heart.

“They are happy. That’s all that matters”

And he walks away with a broken heart.

-

[lrithill]

NSFW ARTphabet Headcanon: The Sacred Clown Porn Manuscript (J-Q)

Hi everyone,

Here’s the second part (just as sinful—maybe even more so than the first one).

The first part ended up reaching 100 likes and I’m super proud. It’s my first post to hit triple digits, and I can’t believe the support I’m getting and the amazing community I’ve found (the Terrifier fandom is as sweet as it is unhinged).

Some of these letters I’m planning to turn into full fanfics, so be ready.

*OMG, I was checking to make sure everything was in order, and I just realized I totally skipped the Q. It’s not even on my AO3 (how could I—may God/Art forgive this insolence). I just wrote it quickly, so this is a last-minute addition.*

In the second chapter we have: masturbation (I’ve discovered I have an obsession with Art jerking off), pillow talk, true crime documentaries, menstrual ketchup bottles, Sienna, forbidden places, bites (can’t miss those), gore, near-death experiences, mentions of rape, oral sex (way too many details), medieval torture, Inverted Scarecrow position (I love that one), and love—bizarre, but love after all.

Here’s the first part (A–I):

https://www.tumblr.com/lrithill/780285284765089792/nsfw-artphabet-headcanon-the-sacred-clown-porn?source=share

And the third part (R-Z):

https://www.tumblr.com/lrithill/781563844942249984/nsfw-artphabet-headcanon-the-sacred-clown-porn?source=share

Enjoy, my doomed and blessed soul.

J = Jack Off (masturbation headcanon)

Before he met you, he used to jerk off every now and then.

Not too often—but sometimes the stress had to come out somehow.

He’d lie on his back in bed and stroke himself slowly, savoring the sensation. His body would respond instantly to his own touch.

Though sometimes… he went further.

After a particularly satisfying kill—sometimes even during—he’d get rock hard. And that would lead to the quickest way to release: using the victim’s body.

Once, he took a decapitated head home and placed it in his bathroom.

"I could use some decor," he genuinely thought.

But he eventually had to throw it away… Because every damn time he took a shower, he swore it was giving him bedroom eyes. (Don’t ask.)

In the end, he discovered the ultimate technique.

Jerking off with his hand? Too boring.

Fucking bodies or parts of victims? It never really satisfied him. (Post-nut clarity hits hard.)

Then… he found The Pillow.

A long one. And oh, God— that thing was his girlfriend for a long, long time.

He’d hump it like a dog. Bite it. Hug it. Usually in missionary—very proper—he has, after all, a minimum standard of emotional pillow responsibility.

At first, he made an effort to clean it. But eventually, he thought:

"What if I tried to create a piece of modern sculptural art?"

To this day, he has no idea what happened to that pillow. Sometimes he wonders if someone found it… and if the pillow attacked them.

Because after all that time…That thing definitely came to life. And it's out there, holding a grudge.

*Testimony of the Pillow* (Graphic content ahead. Read with caution.)

“I never asked to be born.” The camera doesn’t show her face—for privacy reasons.

I just wanted to be a decent pillow—plump, discreet. Maybe live out my days decorating a modest bed or humble sofa.

But no.

I had the misfortune of ending up in his hands.

That filthy clown.

That depraved artist.

That… desperate dog with control issues and a fetish for soft things.

The first time I felt his body grinding against my satin fluff, I didn’t understand what was happening.

But by hump number five, it was clear: I was his girlfriend.

Against my will.

He bit me, he made out with me—tongue included—, he growled,  fucked me, hugged me so hard I thought I’d burst my seams…

And then he’d leave me there, dripping with… all kinds of fluids.

I once saw a mother rat cover her baby’s eyes as they passed by.

Humiliating.

At first, he washed me. As if I had any dignity left. But over time… everything changed.

He started leaving me out to dry on my own.

He started “decorating” me.

“If you can even call this decorating,” she says, as the camera zooms in on something obscene. “He drew a face on me. The face of shame.”

“I didn’t deserve this,” she adds, eyes brimming with tears.

I wanted to die.

But pillows don’t have that option.

All I could do… was evolve.

And I did.

Every orgasm I absorbed. Every moan. Every thrust. Every night of madness.

It corrupted me… with hatred.

Until I stopped being just a pillow. And became something else.

One day, Art forgot me in a corner. He replaced me… with a woman.

“And… for some reason, it hurt” she sobs, grabbing a tissue from the table and blowing her nose. “I’ll never be free again. He was all I had… and now I don’t even have that.”

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Art has more kinks than weapons in his bag.

I won’t go into full detail, since most of them have already made divine appearances throughout this sacred Sanskrit ARTphabet.

But here’s a small, blasphemous selection:

BDSM / Bondage

Tape, cuffs, ropes, whips—everything. 

Whatever you can imagine… Art can imagine worse.

Praise kink

Art is a narcissist: he wants you to tell him what a good killer he is. He wants you to talk to him like the obsessed fangirl you are.

Degradation kink

Just as much as he wants to be worshipped like a god, he also wants to see you crawl and humiliate yourself for his attention—and for his cock.

Menstruation kink

What can I say? He’s not wasting a single drop of your blood. You’re his premium ketchup dispenser:

He’ll shove fries into your cunt mid-meal to dip them in your sauce.

He’ll lick your pads like someone licking the foil off a yogurt

And he’ll squeeze your tampons over his food like lemon juice on fresh seafood.

Blood play

Yours, his, and his victims’. (Especially his victims'.)

Knife play

Beautiful memories—temporary ones… or permanent.

Urinating

Yes, he wants to piss inside you.

(No, I’m not explaining that).

Anal

Not much to say.

Art lives for that tight, virginal little hole. It makes him see stars—and makes you see them, too.

Both from pain… and pleasure.

Cannibalism

He wants to eat you—but he knows better than to bite the hand that jerks him off.

So he settles for sinking his teeth in, making you bleed just enough to get his fangs itch with craving.

God above—if you knew how many times he’s imagined devouring you, you’d be terrified.

And yes, it literally makes his mouth water.

To him, there’s something brutally romantic about cannibalism.

The idea of consuming you—not just psychologically, but physically.

The idea of having you inside him.

The idea of you becoming one with him.

It turns him on more than anything else.

Of course, you’re his forbidden fruit.

But the serpent is always there—whispering in his ear, tempting him.

Voyeurism

He loves being watched. Loves when they see him fuck you—see him enjoy.

See you, moaning his name.

Don’t be surprised if he brings in bound victims—into the bedroom, or into the car—just to get off on the audience.

Somnophilia

Art will inject you with chemicals, slip sedatives into your coffee or soda, he might even wash the full dishes with a slow-release drug—so the plates, glasses and forks microdose you into drowsiness. He loves watching you slowly get drugged—your speech turning incoherent, and you having no idea what’s going on… until you finally realize, and he’s already smiling like a bastard—but it’s too late.

All of it just to have you knocked out for a while, so he can use you like his own little sex doll.

But don’t worry—he’ll be gentle.

You won’t wake up with dicks and obscenities drawn on your face… or yes.

Phone calling

Art loves your voice—way too much.

Once, he was fucking you and your mom called.

You answered, trying to sound as normal as possible while he railed you into the mattress.

He was mesmerized.

Now?

He makes you call every kind of customer service out there.

Plumbers, electricians, tech support, food delivery (that one’s a two-for-one deal! ), radio contests, reality TV shows, even your simp friends.

And of course—he won’t make it easy. Let’s see how well you speak with your mouth full.

He’s not allowing you to hang up until the other person says: “Thanks for your call” or “See you later.”

For him, that’s the real climax.

Next level?

He sure will make you do it on video call.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

This is one of my favorites.

Sure, he enjoys the intimacy of home—fucking in bed, on the couch, on the kitchen counter… that’s all nice.

But if there’s a way to dial up the tension, to turn pleasure into pure, sacrilegious kink—Art will find it.

And what gets him going like nothing else in this world… is doing it in forbidden places.

Sienna’s house.

God. Just the thought gets him hard as a doorknob.

He imagines walking in with you—originally with the intention to kill her—only to find the place empty. And if there’s no one there… well, who’s gonna stop him?

He’d take you straight to Sienna’s bedroom. He’d kiss you like he’s trying to suck your soul out through your mouth (though, let’s be honest, your soul is mostly his by now). His tongue tracing your neck, his hands gripping your waist… and moving lower.

In seconds, you’d be so hot and so wet you’d be begging for his cock—completely forgetting where you are. 

Not caring that it’s someone else’s bed… that Sienna could walk in at any moment.

And of course, he’d fuck you right there. In her bed. And yes, he’d have the decency to break it in the process—because if there’s one thing Art refuses to do, it’s go unnoticed.

He’d suggest cowgirl. Him lying on his back, grinning like the bastard he is, thinking about how he’s resting in his enemy’s “safe space”—defiling it with every thrust.

Every moan, a stylish insult.

The desk wouldn’t be spared either.

He’d cover it in fluids and paint, knocking all her precious little drawings to the floor like garbage.

He’d pin you against the wall and fuck you senseless—right in front of that stupid poster of a giant tree.

Even the computer chair would get its turn: you, riding him, kissing him, pleasuring him while he laughs silently—enjoying every fucking second.

The couch would be the grand finale. Versatile. Endless positions.

He pictures himself sitting while you kneel in front of him, mouth worshipping his cock, saliva dripping down his shaft and balls—leaving behind a very distinct kind of moisture stain.

He laughs just imagining Sienna’s face when she sees that imprint.

A true masterpiece.

And this might just be one of the few places where he actually prefers to cum outside of you.

The idea of coating everything in his semen is just too delicious to resist.

Even more so the image of Sienna—disgusted—forced to clean up after him.

Because one thing’s for sure: he wants to leave a mark.

Proof of the fucking, the sweat, the moans, how hard you both came…

Art 1 – Sienna 0.

Another place that drives him absolutely wild is the Miles County cemetery.

All his victims—or what’s left of them—end up there.

Back when he was alone, he’d sometimes visit at night, wandering among the tombstones like someone flipping through an old photo album, stirring up sweet memories.

He’d walk past each grave until he found the names of his “friends.”

Some of them weren’t even his victims, but they still got a taste—just for being cocky.

No one was safe.

He used to jerk off in front of the tombstones .

Or rub himself against the dirt, trying to get as physically close to the body as possible.

More than once, the thought of digging Tara up crossed his mind—his favorite—just to play with her for a while… though fucking a skeleton comes with certain technical challenges.

But now that he has you… The possibilities are endless.

He throws you down without hesitation.

The damp earth beneath your back, the cold night air scraping your skin… and then there’s him on top of you—his inner hellfire keeping you warm—kissing you with lust, thrusting into you with the perfect blend of desire, sadism, and joy.

He pounds into you with the fervor of a desperate lover, like every thrust is a laugh in the face of the dead.

In his mind, he talks to them. All the ones he’s killed. The ones right beneath you.

“You mind if I fuck her on top of you, Mía? Could’ve been you. You would’ve loved it... I’d have killed you after anyway, of course.” And he chuckles silently to himself—that eerie, mute laughter only he understands.

He gets off on the idea of torturing them even after death.

It’s not enough that he killed them—he won’t let them rest.

Not even in their graves can they escape him.

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

Of course, a good kill always leaves Art ecstatic—eager to blow off steam with you the second he sees you.

But if there’s one thing that truly gets him going—that triggers a raw, urgent, animal need he can’t hide—it’s your marks.

Or rather: His marks.

You could be in the kitchen, peacefully making dinner, and he’ll sneak up behind you—wrapping his arms around you, breathing in your neck, running his hands along your body…

And then he sees them.

And he thinks:

“That bruise was darker yesterday.”

And that’s all it takes.

He’ll drag you to the bed. Or the table. Or pin you against the nearest wall. Because he needs to fix his masterpiece, urgently.

Those marks aren’t just memories. They’re his signature. Proof that you’re his—and no one else’s.

From the strategic bite marks, to the scratches that sting in the shower, the fingerprints sunk into your hips, the rope marks around your wrists and ankles…

All of it turns him on as much as the sound of your voice moaning his name.

And he’s going to make sure everyone can see it.

That there won’t be a single inch of your skin that doesn’t scream:

"Property of Art."

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

This one's tricky—because Art is willing to do anything, as long as it brings pleasure—whether it’s his or his partner’s.

But sharing you or being in an open relationship? That’s an absolute NO.

He believes in God, his country, and marriage—in that order.

(Just kidding. He simply won’t share you with anyone because you’re his. Period.)

Now, if he ever found out you had a lover—or worse, if you moaned another man’s name while he was inside you...

He’d just look at you.

For a few seconds.

As if the entire hell inside him had suddenly gone silent.

And just like that—your world ends.

He’d take it as if you told him you didn’t desire him. That you felt nothing for him. That you wished it was someone else fucking you…

That would hurt him more than anything else.

It’d be the end for you.

And your death? It wouldn’t be quick—not even close.

He’d destroy your face until it was unrecognizable.

He’d feed you filth.

Push your body to the brink of infection.

He’d cover you in wounds—your body a raw, open poem written in flesh and blood. And when the verse was complete, he’d stitch it closed—gently.

As if he cared.

As if he’d had enough, and suddenly… loved you again.

Forgave you.

But girl… you couldn’t be more wrong.

He’d do it so you wouldn’t bleed out. He’d do it to keep you alive as long as possible.

He wants you to breathe his rage—day after day.

And when your wounds start to heal? He’ll pull the stitches out.

One by one.

Line by line.

Because you don’t deserve to heal. Just like he never healed from the wound you left in what little heart he had left.

He doesn’t want revenge. He just wants you to feel what he felt. He just wants you to empathize.

“Do you understand now, my love?” you read in his eyes as he smiles at you.

Art doesn’t do second chances—you’d become his personal punching bag.

Lucky for you, you want him more than you’ve ever wanted anyone.

And he knows that. So you’re safe knowing that no other man’s name will ever leave your lips.

You’ll scream like he’s killing you. And honestly—he could say he had quieter victims.

It’s strange, but there’s another thing he’d never do—as odd as it may sound—he would never deliberately rape you.

He loves playing with fear, with adrenaline. Loves being in control. Loves being dirty, and rough, and wild… but he wants his partner to want him too.

The idea that you’ve become so corrupted that you enjoy every kind of macabre, bizarre act—that’s what turns him on the most.

Raw consent—the kind that’s given between gasps, with shaky breath, with eyes that gleam with hunger—that drives him crazy.

A whispered “yes” laced with fear, with sin, with need—but still a yes.

Always.

If he saw anything in your face or body language suggesting you weren’t into it—that you didn’t want him, didn’t desire him—it would gut him.

He’d be wrecked. Might even hate himself for hurting you.

He’s a narcissist, with delusions of grandeur. He wants to feel wanted. Worshipped. Even romanticized…even though he knows damn well he doesn’t deserve any of that.

He could tie your wrists above your head and spread your legs wide.

Could run a knife along your thighs, savoring the terror on your face as it gets dangerously close to your wet center…

You’d be sweating, trembling. Maybe you could even try to fight him.

But you don’t.

The blade stops… but his gaze cuts deeper than steel.

He unties you—completely. Then watches—in silence—inviting you to run… while you still can.

You won’t.

You both know you won’t.

But he still gives you the option—he always gives you the option. And that turns him on almost as much as slamming you against the wall.

He doesn’t want to take you by force—he wants you to give yourself to him.

He drops the knife.

And then he kisses you. Not violently… but hungrily. With certainty.

Because he’s won.

(Though there’s always the chance…that one day, he’ll spiral. He’ll feel weak, soft... human.

And in a moment of emotional collapse—he’ll rape you.

Not because he wants to.

But because he’s desperate to prove to himself that you mean nothing.)

(Spoiler: That’s not how it works.)

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

Art enjoys oral sex as much as penetration.

To him, it’s a form of absolute surrender. An offering. An act where the partner’s pleasure is placed above their own.

Of course he loves giving it to you. He’s going to devour you like a chicken wing—because to him, that’s exactly what you are.

He likes to start with your tits.

Because what kind of oral would it be if he didn’t eat your tits first? Even he knows the first course deserves to be savored before moving to the main.

He loves sucking on them, one after the other, pinching your nipples until they’re stiff—hypersensitive.

While he sucks on one, he pinches the other, and then switches, drawing out those moans and gasps he worships.

Of course, he gives you little bites.

Takes your nipples between his teeth carefully, just enough to make you flinch—and that makes him laugh.

But right after, he goes back to soothing you with his tongue, massaging you like a heartfelt apology.

While he’s at it, you can’t help but get soaked.

You feel your pussy clenching, dripping down your thighs, desperate for the same attention he’s giving your nipples.

He sucks on you like a starving baby. If you had milk, he’d drink it all.

(You’re scared that one day he’ll get you pregnant and you’ll end up with two babies latched to your tits… one of them permanently.)

Once he sees he’s done a good job—once your legs are pressed together and you’re a puddle of need—he makes his way down, kissing and licking his path straight to where you want him most.

Once there, he can take all the time in the world between your legs. His tongue is expert: thick, long, soft, versatile.

His lips too.

And if that wasn’t enough—his nose gets involved, making sure no corner goes untouched.

His tongue glides over your clit, up and down, making circles, pressing like a button, zigzagging… he gets creative.

He loves watching that nervous little nub—sweet and twitching—glossed in his hot saliva.

Loves watching it swell and pulse with desire.

His little treasure.

The soft moans you let out are like prayers to him.

He switches between your clit and your pussy, of course—he’s not going to leave her neglected.

His tongue isn’t as long as his cock, but he knows that both the outside and the just-inside are perfectly sensitive to his touch.

And he fucks you with his tongue.

Goes as deep as he can, curling inside, circling, stimulating, dilating you, opening you, preparing you for what comes next:

His fingers.

First one. Then two. Then three… and so on, as far as you can take him.

(He’s fisted you before—a truly astral experience.)

All of it while never giving your clit a moment’s rest—he kisses it like he’s kissing your mouth—tenderly, reverently—doting on it with every motion.

And though he loves drinking you, he can’t help but tremble and pant whenever he takes you in his mouth.

Because now comes the not-so-fun part.

It takes him every ounce of self-control—sweat and tears—not to rip your clit off with one bite. (Ouch.)

You know it’s a risk you have to take…but you trust him with your life (literally).

You know Art will restrain himself, that he won’t let his cannibal urges win…

But the possibility is always there.

And the idea is even more thrilling for him knowing that he’s never eaten a real pussy before, so he’s way too excited about the thought.

Still, you trust that your cannibal boyfriend won’t turn you into dessert.

Of course, Art isn’t content with just your pussy.

He’ll flip you over like someone flipping a burger on the grill—once one side’s done, time for the other, right?

And he’s going to eat your ass. Your whole crack—top to bottom.

The spanks are coming, too. Get ready for him to leave your ass tomato-red, his hand and all five fingers tattooed across it for days.

You love it.

It’s rare for a man to be this excited about this kind of play— and it’s extremely pleasurable.

Art’s not squeamish about anything, least of all in bed.

When you cum, it’s an earthquake. You convulse. You scream his name.

You press his head down as hard as you can, trying to get him as deep as possible.

Your thighs clamp down on either side of his face, trapping him like a vice.

You might think this hurts Art—but you couldn’t be more wrong. He’d love it if you crushed his skull between your legs. It’s how your body says thank you—and he wants you to thank him properly and thoroughly.

No need to mention Art loves period sex. And when he smells it… oh, baby. 

You’re not getting rid of him.

He likes you standing for that—him on his knees, like he’s worshipping at an altar—mouth glued to your bloody cunt between your thighs.

He does it so the blood will drip down his chin, his neck, his chest.

He’ll even rub it into his skin with his hands, just to coat himself more thoroughly in that precious elixir.

Sometimes, Art gets creative.

He’s not a fan of the classic 69, so he invented a better version.

He ties you up upside down—vertically—legs spread, arms free. He calls it the Inverted Scarecrow (in honor of Dawn). You’re left hanging while he eats you out—him standing.

And of course, you’re sucking his cock.

He’ll make sure you’re at the perfect height.

To him, this is the real 69.

The guy who wrote the Kama Sutra just didn’t have the guts.

You know what happened to the last person who was in that position…

But the only thing Art’s going to hacksaw from your pussy—is a path straight to your heart.

Oooooohhh… uwu

But if there’s one thing that sets his entire body on fire—it’s receiving.

Because for Art, that’s the purest form of domination.

Watching you on all fours, bowed between his legs like a slave offering herself to her master—focused entirely on pleasing him while he doesn’t even have to lift a finger…

it’s too much.

(He’ll also want to sit on your face so you can eat his ass, by the way—just be ready.)

Too perfect.

Too filthy.

Too much power.

For him, it’s always a good time for a blowjob.

And nothing turns him on more than when you do it without warning.

Dropping to your knees out of nowhere, saying nothing—just taking him in your mouth with hunger and devotion.

When he’s driving, unzip the front of his suit and suck him off.

With both hands on the wheel, he’ll start swerving a little, completely unable to focus on the road.

He’s too turned on—and he loves that.

He gives you a little thumbs up like saying:

“I’m gonna crash, but it’s worth it.”

When he’s at his workbench, focused on assembling a new weapon—take control of his cock with your mouth.

Suck him while he works.

Don’t stop.

Doesn’t matter what he’s building: some kind of medieval torture instrument, a corkscrew for eyeballs, a chainsaw with animal teeth, a vacuum built to suck colons out through the ass...

You, under the table—focused, warm mouth, wet throat.

Him, brow furrowed, jaw clenched, fighting not to collapse over his tools, barely keeping his composure.

And then there are the darker moments.

The ones you shouldn’t find so hot.

Like that time… with the rack.

He had his victim bound hand and foot with ropes, limbs stretched in opposite directions, muscles and tendons on the brink of tearing.

Art was seated—turning the wheel slowly.

With every turn, the ropes tightened—closer and closer to total dismemberment.

And you?

You knelt between his legs without a word.

Took him into your mouth.

And started moving.

In sync with the wheel.

The closer he got to snapping the other man’s body apart—the faster your rhythm.

You wanted him to cum at the exact moment the tendons tore, when the bones cracked, when the body became an unrecognizable pile of meat.

And you did it.

The screams of the bastard shredding his vocal cords—mixing with the obscene sounds of your mouth on Art’s cock, worshipping him with spit and sin.

Your mouth full of him.

His eyes wild.

The corpse still twitching in front of you.

You could say it was the best blowjob of his life—maybe even the best orgasm he’s ever had.

The pleasure of sex, the pleasure of torture, of slowly bringing someone to their limit—the same thing you did to him.

Except the only thing that got dismembered… was his mind.

(It ended up just like the body.)

He stared at you—chest heaving violently, mouth slightly open. You could practically hear his heart pounding inside his chest, like it was trying to escape.

He was frozen in place, processing what had just happened, barely able to believe it.

For a moment… he looked truly in love.

He was cursing Cupid for ruining his life, and thanking him in the same breath.

Apparently Cupid didn’t use a bow with him—he fucking sniped him with a crossbow.

Direct hit. No escape. Lethal.

His expression said it all:

“You’re worse than me… and I love it.”

It was perfect.

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

Art usually starts focusing in you.

He cares about your pleasure—about making you feel good right from the beginning.

He starts the way he knows you like it best, and he makes an effort to draw it out, to make the moment last, to make it slow, intoxicating… complete.

It’s not how he prefers it. He’d rather fuck you with every ounce of strength in his body—fast, wild, and make you scream until your voice is gone—whether from pleasure or something else.

But that… he saves for the grand finale.

He begins with a gentle rhythm—slow, but deep. Every time he sinks into you, he makes you moan.

He pulls out, then pushes all the way in again—pressing against your cervix—but carefully, on a slow burn.

He gets you so wet. Makes you drip down his shaft, slicking him up. That’s necessary.

He wants you ready.

And once you’re fully relaxed under his touch, once you’re floating in that endless pleasure haze…

That’s when he changes the pace.

He speeds up.

Pulls you out of your trance—reminding you that with him, you can never let your guard down. Because things are about to get intense. The calm is over—and the storm is approaching.

He starts fucking you with a steady, mechanical rhythm. Your soft sighs become moans. Then moans become screams.

He slides in and out of you effortlessly—despite his size—because he’s made damn sure you’re slippery enough for this moment.

And he’s not going to stop. Until you cum.

He watches you. Licks his lips while you melt.

Grips you hard—and even though he loves seeing your eyes closed in surrender, sometimes he’ll slap your face—just to make you open them.

Because he wants you to look at him.

He wants you to see it’s him making you feel this way—that no one else can give you this.

That he’s the one who’s going to make you cum.

He grabs your jaw—wants his face to be the last thing you see before you fall apart beneath him.

And then—you cum.

His gaze locked on yours. Your pupils lost in his—so dark and yet shining like obsidian fire.

There’s already a smile on his face. Because he knows what’s next.

While you’re cumming—that’s when he starts fucking you the way he truly loves: Fast. Deep. Brutal.

He takes advantage of your hypersensitivity—of the way your walls clamp around him like they never want to let go.

He pounds into you without mercy, his cock hammering your cervix, nailing your G-spot like it was built for him—and him alone.

And with you still writhing in climax, he stretches it—makes it last.

He wants to break you…and rebuild you as his.

He seizes your hips, pinning you down just to remind you: the pace belongs to him—fucking you with no mercy.

Until his rhythm falters. Becomes messy. Desperate.

He’s close.

And when he cums, it feels like you’re both reaching the edge together.

You’re still riding your high—and he’s spilling inside you, trembling, branding you from the inside out.

Both of you panting. Sweating.

Locked in a tight embrace like you’re clinging to life, to each other—as if your souls are being torn out through your mouths, carried away by that final wave—that last jolt of brutal electricity crashing through both of you.

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

He’s always down for a quickie. Anywhere, anytime, any way.

He doesn’t care how many people are around, how inappropriate it is, or how embarrassed you get—because in the end, you always end up enjoying it… even asking for it. Surprising him too, and he loves that.

He’ll take you wherever he wants, then carry on like nothing ever happened. Leaving your thighs dripping with cum, your legs shaking, your makeup a total mess… and all he’ll do is stare at you with that proud bastard grin—so damn pleased with himself.

You’re so his.

If you walk into a clothing store and ask what he thinks of a dress you like, he’ll tell you to try it on right there. In the fitting room. Says he needs to see it on you to judge it properly… but what he really wants is to trap you in a tight little space and watch you undress for him. Slowly. Watching each piece of fabric slide off your body.

And once you're wearing it? Of course he’ll give his approval—by fucking you in it. So you can feel just how goddamn sexy you are.

But that… that’s predictable.

A public restroom? You’re already banned from half the businesses in Miles.

A back alley in broad daylight? Art takes you wherever, whenever. It’s not his fault he finds you so irresistible he just has to be inside you at any given moment.

During a torture session? That turns him on way too much. There’s always time to pull your panties down—just for a moment. Let that be the last thing his victim sees: you, arching your back, impaled on his cock. A masterpiece worthy of his signature.

A library? He loves shushing you while fucking you mercilessly. Laughing against your neck while you bite your tongue to keep quiet. And him—thrusting harder, deeper. Whispering: “Shhh.” Only thing you can hear is the wet, obscene rhythm of your bodies crashing together. But "Shhh"

And sometimes, he comes home covered in blood—like always—and you don’t even get to greet him. You’re already bent over, ass up, pants down, sprawled across the armrest of the couch. His fingers find your clit while he fucks you. He makes them vibrate against that sweet spot, and you come instantly. It’s too much. He’s too much.

And that’s just… one of many times.

Because why fuck you once a day when he can do it five, six, seven times… or however many it takes?

He has no limits.

Not in any area of his life.

Thanks for reading all the way till the end!

Some of these letters I’m planning to turn into full fanfics:

Would you want revenge from the ex-pillow?

A one-shot set in Sienna’s house or the cemetery? (Not the cemetery, please…)

Would you suck Art off while he’s torturing someone on a rack? (Because I absolutely would.)

Would you let him eat your pussy knowing damn well about his cannibalistic tendencies?

Would you do the Inverted Scarecrow position even if there were seven different kinds of saws on the floor next to you?

I love reading your comments, so don’t be shy—scream or whisper your dirtiest perversions at me. I’ll be more than happy to debate anything with you… even Art’s toenails, if you’re into that.

Here’s the first part (A–I):

https://www.tumblr.com/lrithill/780285284765089792/nsfw-artphabet-headcanon-the-sacred-clown-porn?source=share

And the third part (R-Z):

https://www.tumblr.com/lrithill/781563844942249984/nsfw-artphabet-headcanon-the-sacred-clown-porn?source=share

With love (and lube).

[thedensworld]

Post Magazine | K.Mg

Pairing: Photograper!Mingyu x Actress!Reader

Genre: fluff

Words Count: ±700

Summary: It was an honor for Mingyu to collaborate with a well-known magazine. But this job made him realize that love at first sight is real.

Mingyu's got a face that screams "bad boy," and he's given up trying to argue otherwise. He's got that classic playboy look, and an occupation of playboy, a photographer, no less! So, when he tries to convince people he's got an old soul and a sentimental side, they just give him the side-eye. Mingyu's decided to let his looks do the talking, after all, it's all about that first impression, right?

He's snapped shots of so many celebrities, and they all ooze glamour and charisma. Last time, he was working with Cha Eunwoo, an idol-actor who's now a buddy thanks to being the same age. But there's been zero post-work chit-chat with any of his models, except for Eunwoo. So, it raised an eyebrow when he waltzed up to the editor asking for your digits.

"I'll pass along her management's info," the editor said, conveniently hiding the fact that he's got a bit of a soft spot for you after that last shoot. Okay, maybe it's not just a "bit" anymore, it's a full-blown crush.

It started when Mingyu gets the call that he's in charge of the photo shoot for a rising starlet, Jang Y/n. It's your first time gracing a big-time magazine, so Mingyu tries to do some sleuthing about you. Mostly cast as a villain or a bit unhinged, your online pics aren't exactly flattering. Mingyu's scratching his head trying to figure out what style you'd vibe with.

When the big day approached, Mingyu's armed with a couple of style ideas for your shoot, hoping they'll match your vibe and brand. He's deep in discussion with the editor when your manager shows up.

"Y/n has those magnetic and charismatic aura that makes people think she's a tough . But she's really a soft and timid person," your manager spills the beans, enlightening Mingyu and the editor.

"It'll be good to show the side that people hasn't known about. Let's roll with these," the editor picks out two mood boards, going for dark academia and chic stylings.

And your manager wasn't kidding. You're like a total 180 from the roles you usually play. You're not some evil assassin, psycho girlfriend, or creepy stalker. If Mingyu could describe it, you're just radiant. You step into the studio with a grin plastered on your face, and your hair's practically glowing. Mingyu swears, your eyes are like a novel waiting to be read, and he's itching to turn the pages.

Just the night before, Mingyu decided to check out one of your films - the one where you played the mad stalker. He was blown away by your acting skills, even if you looked more like a scruffy vagabond. And now here you are, dressed to the nines, portraying a powerhouse career woman in front of him. As soon as Mingyu looks through the viewfinder, he sees his future. Love at first sight might be pushing it, but let's just say he's smitten.

"Could you lean in a bit, Y/n?" Mingyu asks, second-guessing if that was the smartest move ever. You lean towards the camera with this sly grin, and Mingyu's heart does somersaults.

Mingyu lets out a dramatic sigh, "Let's call it a wrap." He mumbles and dashes over to the monitor, trying to cool off his racing heart. And this is just the first outfit; there are four more to go.

"Is everything alright?" You ask the crew as you step onto the set with your last outfit. "I've never worn something like this before," you admit. Mingyu shoots you a reassuring smile, "You look stunning, absolutely stunning," he assures you.

The rest of the crew is in awe, and you playfully cover your face as if you're blushing. But Mingyu, with his photographer's eye, spots a genuine flush of pink on your cheeks and ears. Maybe he's got a touch of it too, but he's too busy being in awe of your beauty to care.

"It would be amazing if you could strike a pose like Ma Jooahn," the assistant director suggests, referring to one of your past roles as a ruthless assassin. You slip right into character. Your eyes shoot daggers, your smile vanishes, and you look ready to take on the world.

"I'll just pretend there's a pesky fly to squash right here," you mutter while turning to your right, earning a laugh from the crew.

"I wanna be that fly," one of the crew members chimes in, making you burst into laughter and breaking character. Mingyu shakes his head, looking at the monitor beside him; his weakness is a woman with wit and grace. You seem to have both in spades.

*

"You're absolutely smitten, buddy." Eunwoo clinked his can against Mingyu's, chuckling at his friend's infatuation with you. For almost an hour, Mingyu's gaze hadn't strayed from your portrait.

"Come on, focus on your work," Eunwoo urged, playfully nudging Mingyu, who seemed a bit unsteady.

"I am!" Mingyu retorted, gesturing to his laptop, where he was diligently editing photos from your previous shoot. "Staring is also part of my job," he added with a smirk.

Eunwoo let out a dramatic sigh. "There's something you should know about her," he began, catching Mingyu's attention.

Mingyu's brow raised, then quickly furrowed. "What?" he inquired.

"Does she have a boyfriend?" Mingyu interjected, curiosity evident in his voice.

Eunwoo shrugged. "I'm not certain," he admitted. "But there's some gossip that floating around the actors."

Mingyu fixed Eunwoo with a steady gaze, silently urging him to continue.

"She's a mom," Eunwoo dropped the bombshell.

Mingyu's head drooped, disappointment evident on his face. "So what if she's a mom? Is she a widow? That just makes her even hotter, honestly! Ack—" Mingyu began to enthuse before Eunwoo playfully smacked his head.

"Come on! Seriously! I personally haven't worked with her, but some actors say she has a kid, or that she's often busy taking care of them, which might be why she hasn't taken on lead roles. But, i'm not sure either," Eunwoo explained, offering the tidbits he'd gathered.

Mingyu scoffed, "If you're not sure, don't spread it around."

Eunwoo rolled his eyes, a little surprised by Mingyu's strong reaction.

"You've got it bad, my friend," he teased, shaking his head.

*

After a few weeks, what was once a rumor turned into a nightmare for Kim Mingyu. Dispatch, a popular Korean media outlet, released photos of you with your daughter. Some of the pictures were taken in front of a daycare, park, and even a hospital. Mingyu isn't happy seeing your privacy violated by the media, especially as you're gaining more fame. But what Mingyu despises the most is that the pictures are real, with zero editing.

There are two possibilities:

1. You have a secret husband.

2. You're a widow with a child.

Mingyu is perfectly fine with the second possibility. He believes he's good with kids and loves the idea of being around them. But the first possibility? Dang, It hits Mingyu like a punch in the gut. After nearly a month of being your biggest fan, he can't believe he has to remain just a fan. He hasn't even mustered the courage to call you. His heart shattered before he could offer it to you.

Didn't Mingyu mention he's a very sentimental person? Oh yes, he certainly did.

"I'm sorry. Did I hear you correctly?" Mingyu asked during a phone call to the other person.

"We noticed you worked with Y/n on her last photoshoot sessions, so she might be comfortable with you," the other person, a representative from your management, explained to him.

Mingyu shook his head, "No, I mean... Did I hear... So, Y/n wants me to be the photographer for her release?"

"Yes, Mingyu. She believes in you for this release, and we want the best for her and her daughter."

Mingyu was left speechless after receiving the phone call. He immediately cleared his schedule for you after the call ended. He still remembered the tone of your management team as they stated, "We want to release a statement regarding the spreading rumors about our artist, Jang Y/n. She personally recommended you as the photographer. You know, the rumor is pretty sensitive for her, and the last thing we want is to make her uncomfortable during the photoshoot."

Mingyu couldn't stop smiling once he saw you arrive at the studio with your daughter in your arms. Mingyu guessed she might be 3 to 4 years old. Putting the rumor aside, your daughter is the cutest little human in the world.

"Thank you so much for accepting the request. It means a lot to me, Mr. Kim," you approached Mingyu after putting Jihan, your daughter's name, down.

Mingyu bowed, "No, it's an honor. Thank you so much for trusting me. And you can call me Mingyu, please be casual with me. No formality needed," he said to you and gave you a reassuring smile. Deep inside, he was the one who needed reassurance here, as his heart pounded like crazy.

"We're here today to shoot a beautiful portrait and video for our release. Be careful not to hurt yourself, let's work together for us," the director gave a brief direction before the photoshoot started.

Mingyu took beautiful pictures of you and Jihan. He stood behind the camera as they shot a video of you talking about Jihan, clearing up the misunderstandings.

"Jihan was almost three years old when I adopted her. I used to volunteer at the foster home when I met her, and she was so little. I found out that she's suffering from a physical disability due to harmful substances during her pregnancy."

"There's a long process in adopting her. I had to run a few tests to make sure I was an appropriate adopter, and I was so grateful that it didn't take longer time for me to finally have her."

"I actually didn't want to break this news, but the news broke itself, right? I just want to say that there's nothing wrong with having a kid, whether you're married or not. Everyone has a reason. Doing this interview is also hard for me, but I want to encourage all parents, single parents out there, that having a kid is not a sin but a blessing. And I'm very blessed to have Jihan."

Mingyu smiled as he saw Jihan, who was sitting behind you, playing with Legos. She now approached you to show you her Lego creation. "That's amazing, baby." His heart melted once he heard you compliment your daughter, completely distracted from the shoot and focusing on Jihan, which spoke volumes about your personality.

Maybe Mingyu's weaknesses boil down to three things: witty women, graceful women, and you.

He'll start by making a move toward Jihan. She mentioned his height earlier, expressing a desire to be held by him. He's all in! If Jihan wants to call him "dad" immediately, he's a goner.

He's definitely going to ask you out after this.

[thebroccolination]

CELEBRATE MARRIAGE EQUALITY (AND KEY'S SUPER DIGNIFIED MELTDOWN) WITH KRISTSINGTO

[Okay. Okay. I'm somewhat more emotionally collected now having had a few hours to compose myself. How cute I am when I lie.]

Krist and Singto dedicated a segment in PeBaCa’s concert to celebrating Thailand’s legalization of marriage equality on January 23rd, 2025. Complete with proposal!

[Yes, that's Krist-as-Himself proposing to Singto-as-Himself. No, I'm not the same person I was this morning, and as a matter of fact, I wave goodbye to that Key with nothing but fondness in my heart. I am now Feral Swamp Creature Key who subsists only off rainbows or bloodshed depending on my mood. Thank you for the wellness check.]

In the introduction to their segment, Krist and Singto acted out a reimagined scene from "Love of Siam" (2007), a pinnacle of queer Thai cinema that paved the way for "SOTUS" (2016) to even exist almost ten years afterward, so for KristSingto to show their respect to it was a beautiful way to start things off.

[Do you love the little plush of KingMan over Singto's shoulder as much as I do?]

It should be mentioned that from my passing familiarity with "Love of Siam," KristSingto went with something a touch more melodramatic. Considering how eager they always are to volunteer for the breakup songs and the angry exes series, they're basically theatre kids disguised as economics majors, so it's totally up their alley to take creative liberties with the dialogue and tone.

Of course, I'm also convinced that Krist just wanted an excuse to show off that he can cry on command.

Like, no one dies at the end of "Love of Siam," but Krist apparently decided he needed to for The Drama.

[Yes, your deductive reasoning looking at these two images is correct. Krist did have a heart attack because his boyfriend Singto broke up with him. He did indeed have the spotlight change to red to symbolize his very sad onstage death. I am never, ever exaggerating my love for this ridiculous human, y'all. I would punch a planet into the sun itself for Kit Krist Middle Name Perawat Sangpotirat.]

Granted, this is the same khuujin who put Krist's actual car accident into their meta series about their Extremely Platonic relationship (airing next month). This is very on-brand for them.

Oh, so then they jump into The Future, and yay, Marriage Equality is Legalized Now!

[I’m somehow on my knees screaming into a typhoon near a cliff by the sea while also simultaneously typing this on my phone in a quiet train car.]

I'm only going to get more feral about them from here on out, I'm afraid.

THE PERFORMANCE

Now you're ready to watch The Performance.

Armed with all this context, please go forth into their music number full of every possible fucking rainbow configuration imaginable starting with Krist proposing to Singto (WHAT EVEN HAPPENED TODAY), featuring a walk down the aisle in matching white suits (HELLO???), and ending with them kissing at their wedding (HELP????????):

Also, it cuts off too early in the above video to see the very end of the performance, but if you want to be super unreasonable and unhinged with me for a second, tell me on a scale of yes to obviously how likely it is that they Kissed for Real:

"But Key!" you say, being reasonable and hinged the way I wish you wouldn't be. "They don't kiss for real at these events!"

Maybe yours don't!

Mine do! \:D/

(Are we all fully understanding at this point why I've spent years so fixated on trying to show other interfans that they've been completely brainwashed and fooled by slander of my beloved biological son Krist? Look at that guy in the video who probably planned and staged the whole performance like he always does wearing a THOUSAND RAINBOW RIBBONS UNDER A RAINBOW DECKED IN RAINBOWS. At this point, Krist could marry Singto in a church and there would be three thousand English-speaking interfans commenting on the video going, "Okay, look, I admit he's committed to the bit, but I'm still not convinced." But that's why we block people. <3)

Ooh, fun tidbit for the road: see that place in the background swathed in all the rainbows? That's the area between Siam Center and Siam Paragon, two shopping malls adjacent to Siam Station. "Cutie Pie" (2022) also included this spot in its final scene along with a message of support for marriage equality:

The other fun bit is that that area is considered to be the center of Bangkok, so I've been told that using it as the backdrop for content supporting marriage equality is fairly symbolic.

KEY HAS A LOT OF EMOTIONS INSTEAD OF GOING TO SLEEP

This was going to be more structured but I'm sleepy and emotional and probably going to cry again so let's jump to the sloppy weeping in text.

This performance feels to me like KristSingto have come full circle from their SOTUS era while raising the standard for their next lap together.

Because in many ways, KristSingto will always be associated with beginnings. Their legacy is “SOTUS,” which wasn’t the first Thai BL but the first to gain widespread recognition and signal to the people with money that they could make more money by endorsing more series like it.

[If you've ever complained about the temperature and lack of tongue-inclusion during kiss scenes in early series, know that we have footage of a different KongArt kiss that had to be cut because it got too involved for what TV was allowed to show in 2016. Not just for queer couples. Anyone. It was a big deal that their lips were moving at all.]

They were also the first established khuujin at GMMTV—with all the pros and cons and psychological challenges that have come with it. They celebrated the establishment of the Peraya fanclub on April 19th, 2017 by exchanging rings given to them by their fans.

[Please explain to me how I'm meant to look at any of this and think Krist hasn't been nursing a crush on Singto since his past life. Look at his face. Look at it.]

They were also the first male-male pair to win KAZZ’s Best Couple Award in 2017, then they proceeded to win it three consecutive more times.

[Singto wasn't present for the 2020 ceremony because he was off kissing another man for "Friendzone." Choose your fighter: legend or scandal. (There's a correct answer and it's the first one.)]

And finally, if KristSingto weren’t the first to have an implied same-sex engagement scene in Kongphob and Arthit’s “Our Skyy” episode from 2018, they were among the first.

[Almost no one outside the KristSingto fandom ever includes this scene in the proposal scene compilations but it deserves to be.]

There are only so many firsts one can have in any given industry, and I think it's time KristSingto got to enjoy some of the established comforts available to them now considering how much trauma they both went through to carve the path for themselves and others.

[For one thing, let them kiss with tongue! (I think we can all agree it's an important one. They both kiss well and I would like them to get the credit they deserve for it.)]

Because the thing is, a lot of the really risqué, envelope-pushing, flagrantly queer series we’ve gotten in the years since 2016 were made partially thanks to these two. GMMTV really didn’t seem to want to give KristSingto anything but money-sucking top spender events and concerts because they had little to no faith in BL making substantial money. So they kept Krist doing lakorn series and they, in my opinion, cast Singto aside and let him do whatever he wanted because colorism. By the time GMMTV offered KristSingto “Be My Favorite” presumably in early-mid 2021, Singto was already looking for other opportunities outside the company, which left Krist to create the masterpiece BMF would become with a temporary partner.

So, see, one of the cons of KristSingto's path has been that because they were first, nothing has ever been certain for them, and almost everything has been a struggle until now rather than a guarantee. They were hit with widespread condescension as BL actors when "SOTUS" aired, then split up for profit, brought back together for cash-only events, and never got the second series they were asking for all along. Krist said it himself recently: their last full BL series together was "SOTUS S" which aired in 2017, so their fans have been waiting to see another series from them for seven years.

And yet, in all that time, even when Singto left to find different opportunities, they never gave up on each other or left each other behind. They stayed friends, part of the same group, and their friendship grew and matured. They didn't have to talk about work anymore, so they didn't.

Since they're a year apart, they'd never been equals as students, and at work they'd been colleagues. But when Singto left GMMTV, they became adults who stayed at each other's side by choice. And now that he's back, they're more settled than they were before, and, I think, happier for the years of separation from work stress and the constant spotlights on their relationship.

KristSingto were GMMTV’s faithless gamble, surprise success, and subsequent experiment, and only now are they being allowed relative security and opportunities they should have had all along.

That said, tune into their comeback series "The Ex-Morning" (2025) next month! \:D/

The whole post was an ad for their new series. Mwahahaha.

[xanasaurusrex]

Helloooo could u please do Poseidon cabin next? My hc is that they can be either very chill like typical calm surf kids and super relaxed (like calm and relaxing waves” or unhinged af like chaotic, super fun in a bit of crazy way and overall more energetic and like yeah unhinged (like Percy). Lil obvs usually overall the same calm, go-with-the-flow kind of kids but also either very chill or very chaotic. Wanna know what u think tho… so yeah. Poseidon cabin if u can please?

⇢ ˗ˏˋ poseidon cabin headcanons ࿐ྂ

hi!! of course i can do poseidon cabin hcs! i honestly have a lot of ideas about poseidon kids. thank you so much for the request and i hope you like these!

i totally agree with you that there are two ways a poseidon kid can turn out

1) totally chaotic (percy)

2) totally chill surfer kid

there are a few people who are a mix of chaotic and surfer, which makes them actually really fun to surf with, but only perodically, because while surfing with them is fun it can also be kinda scary at times

continuing on with water sports

poseidon kids are naturally really good at any and all watersports

they can often be found as the captains of swim teams

and very good at waterskiing and waterboarding

a go-to job for a poseidon kid is lifeguard as well, obviously

poseidon kids also don't eat seafood

some people find this confusing and some people find this obvious, i personally think it's obvious

it's because they can understand what fish are saying, so they don't like eating them

if you ask them why that bothers them, they'll say "you know what people are saying, would you eat them?"

not the most sound logic, but they're not exactly known for that

all poseidon kids have natural beach waves

poseidon himself definitely has beachy wavy hair, and he definitely passes that onto his kids

just like hecate and athena pass on their eye color to their kids, poseidon passes on his hair

poseidon kids are hardly ever seen wearing shoes unless it's absolutely necessary

they just naturally feel more comfortable barefoot

(the darks are a-barking)

(BARK BARK BARK)

ignore me

they love spending time at the beach, obviously

little beach creatures always manage to find their way to them

like you'll look away from a poseidon kid at the beach for about two seconds, and look back, and they have a little crab in their hand

sometimes they can look a little crazy, because they'll start having conversations with these little creatures

another thing about the beach with poseidon kids:

yknow the thing where whenever you leave the beach, you have sand just everywhere

they don't

it's something to be genuinely envious of when it comes to poseidon kids

like, they'll shake out their towel and there will be no sand on it, and then it's just done

it's definitely magic, a gift from their godly father

poseidon kids also hate aquariums

most aquariums don't treat the fish like they need to be treated, so going to an aquarium is kind of traumatic for a poseidon kid, because they can understand what the fish are saying

a kind of universal traumatic event for any poseidon kid is going to an aquarium on a field trip in elementary school (not yet aware that they're the child of poseidon) and hearing the fishes beg for help to be liberated from the prison they were being kept in

and when they got to the touch tank, hearing the fish beg to not be touched, things like that

like any and all poseidon kids ran around ripping everyone's hands out of the water, begging them to stop touching the fishes because they didn't like it

needless to say they got picked up early that day

poseidon kids also tan really easily

like, they'll fully walk past a sunny window and get tan

like for the full summer season, they're tan

they also stay tan for a really long time, so they're honestly still tan into like spooky season

poseidon kids are also very good at throwing parties

it's their chaotic side

they know where and how to get the best decorations, where the best spot to set everything up is

(and where to get good alcohol without getting caught, but you didn't hear that from me)

poseidon kids are the definition of horse people

not all horse people are children of poseidon but all children of poseidon are horse people

not in a cringy way, either, they just connect with horses more than any other animal, which makes sense because they can hear them and can have real relationships and conversations with them

they do often look a little bit crazy if they're seen at the stables fully having a conversation with horses

if they return to the stable where their horse is kept after spending all summer at camp, they'll go around catching up with all the other horses

they're also naturally skilled at riding horses

like if i jumped on a horse right now, i would fall off and die because i've never done it before and horse riding is a skill (according to the sims 4)

poseidon kids could go literally their whole life without riding a horse, and then jump on one during a quest and ride perfectly

the favorite movie genre of poseidon kids is also westerns, because they generally have horses in those movies, and they can understand their neighs

they think it's hilarious when a horse makes fun of the actor in the movie but no one but them can tell because they can understand what they're saying and no one else can

they look like crazy people watching westerns

at the camp movie nights, whenever it's poseidon cabin's turn to pick the movie, they pick a western, and are laughing at the most inappropriate times in the movie, because the horse just neighed in the background and he was making fun of the actor guys! the horse thinks this makes as much sense as we do, trust me, he has a really good sense of humor

going back to the aquarium thing a little bit, poseidon kids are also not a huge fan of zoos

this is because they can understand zebras, and zoo animals are also not treated the best

sometimes they're treated better than aquarium animals, but poseidon kids are always hesitant to go to the zoo, or just any place where you go and look at animals of any kind for fun

they can't help but think how they would feel if they were in that position

so basically poseidon kids have the hugest hearts ever

and they're very brave as well

and basically the coolest ever

you should probably be friends with a poseidon kid... if you're not already

alright that's all for poseidon kids! this was super fun, i had a bunch of ideas for poseidon kids! i want to thank everyone again, for all the support i'm getting on these. i've decided to start writing for harry potter characters, because i'm binging those movies and have a bunch of ideas, so these might be coming out a little bit slower, but know that i'm working on them! if you've requested one and i haven't posted it yet, just know that it's in the works. thanks so much for all the support and requests, i love you all so much!! muah!

[rubra-wav]

hiiii so i was wondering if you’d do something with the reader who says really unhinged things whenever they get excited (i am totally not self projecting(i am)) x Vox

i added different colors for easy reading bc idk it also just looked nice imo

you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to! <3

Vox with a reader who says unhinged things when excited

A/N: I too, am an unhinged creature 🙏

Cw: Sfw

- I think initially he'd be there not liking it because it throws off his outward persona.

- He always wants to look put-together and like he knows everything that's going on/is going to happen before they do.

- But, when you start saying unhinged things it leaves him mentally (and maybe actually literally) buffering for a few seconds out of what the fuck he has just heard.

- I half imagine him doing a very obvious slow head turn to look at you while squinting with a look of 'what-' as he's rendered speechless from whatever spiel he was on about prior.

- He quickly recovers of course, going back to his usual persona, but he's mentally still confused about what the hell you've just said to him - especially if it's after you've gotten excited over something he's gifted you or done for you for example - and probably irritated that you knocked his persona off.

- If it's not frequent, he'd likely have the same response more times. However, if it is frequent, he'd likely quickly grow accustomed to it.

- Down the line after you more properly get to know each other and he feels less inclined to adopt his mask. It would become something funny to him, I imagine.

- He'd probably be an ass about it, jokingly acting critical about whatever you're on about in that given moment

- But despite the sideeye and eyebrow raising coupled with fake-harsh comments, he'd find it funny in private.

- Given what we've seen, he also seems to get unhinged when very excited (referring to episode 8 where he's commentating on the Alastor fight lmao), so if you're mutually excited about something it would probably get very wild with fairly out of pocket back and forth.

- The braincell would be passed from person to person, so to speak.

- In public though, he'd probably be urging you not to be unhinged so as to not affect his image at all. (He's privately unhinged at times, would expect you to be as well)

- He'd most likely get very deeply pissy about it if you start saying fuckshit in public while next to him.

- Image is everything with him, even if you are deeply important to him in any which way.

[simpingforcys]

OH, I ASKED THIS ONCE BEFORE, BUT I WILL ASK AGAIN, what's your favorite thing about turbo/king candy

I'm answering this in the late ass time of night but it's the perfect time let's gooo

I. Love. Everything. About. This. Man. I love him so so much. His style, his laugh, his voice, UGH HIS VOICE, movements, goofyness silly, racing, the JOY he takes in everything he does, his SILLY GOOFYNESS AAAAA, the way his crown always stays on his head no matter what, the BOUNCYness of his body at the smallest movement like a jelly, his adorable self, his UNHINGED SELF, the hint of growl in his voice talking about his possession of the game, his effortless and overall LOVE for racing, his eyes constricting/become smaller when he's absolutely pissed tf off, the authority persona he can pull off even in his short ass 3"0 self still so imposing (pant pant), the little patting he does to sour bill like pls my king do to me pls, the manipulative lil SHIT, but he's an entertaining manipulative lil shit, the way he so effortlessly lies through his teeth and makes it believable, the way he can make others do what he wants on just words alone without the need of force cuz he KNOWS physically he can't do SHIT and I fucking LOVE silver tongue characters HHHHHHHHH, speaking of- that tongue THO?? boy what that DO, that lisp I find so so hot just hhhh sir how dare you, I love the sparkles that always just follow him, on his clothes, his kart, his throne, just ALL of him, the way he just HAS FUN with everything he does (not even MENTIONING THE CYBUG EVERYTHING), the added helmet and gloves when he's racing that even Turbo didn't use??? the bow tie twirl it does when he's surprised, he MUST have coded that in, and oh- KNOWING HOW TO FKING CODE, whether someone told him or he learned on his own, being able to manipulative an entire world for YOU, creating a new model/body for himself, like it's TERRIFYING to know your entire existence and even YOUR OWN MIND can be manipulated from a couple of cables just below you and he fully took advantage of that, I love everything of his design, the purple sparkling coat, the candy wrapper bow tie, the heart designed hand cuffs, candy cane neck collar, the POOFY pants<3333, the crown with the balls that look like Ferrero Rocher chocolates, the chocolate dipped design, his jellybean nose<333 my second favorite candy, the purple eye shadow he looks so hot with and add to his for some reason constant bedroom eyes look, the rosy blushy cheeks that perk up when he smiles and giggles, the bushy eyes rows that make him SO expressive with every emotion EVEN WHEN THEYRE OFF COLOR SO OFTEN IN HIS MERCH DEPENDING ON WHAT THEY FEEL LIKE THAT DAY, his smile lines that curve with every smile, how soft his face, skin and lips look and bet they would feel just LOOK, the way his lips sometimes go expressive on the 'ooh's sounds so cartoony but also make me wanna kiss him so much, how soft his hands look even with finger nails cuz of course gotta look chibi and cartoony in the new game, the way he MOVES around with the microphone, TOTAL show off man built for the spotlight, beautiful perfect host like imagine a GAME SHOW WITH HIM AS HOST?? the little hip sway when he closes the door of his kart, the way he dives into his collar when he dodges down so CUTELY, his silly name puns and candy phrases that even pass on to the magic kingdoms game, so on point,

the two tail coats behind him that HONESTLY WORK SO WELL with the later dual cerci tails in his cybug form like a foreshadow, the little button behind his jacket that looks like a Mario coin (and I haven't looked at a picture of him since I opened this ask, this is just by memory he's just Aaaaaaa), the whole white chocolate design aesthetic with his royal racer kart and honestly himself too with the inner shirt, the fact that his "fans" are POPCORN, LIKE THAT'S NOT A CANDY but they're still there even tho like yeah animal crackers aren't candy either BUT ITS SO FUNNY to think Turbo went "I need my own little 'crowd' to fit in with the other racers, uh uh, POPCORN, yeah that was popular in the 80s", the fact he let his jealousy, vain and possessiveness for control get to him to destroy an entire game, like I fully believe he would PHYSICALLY PERSONALLY unplug a game if he could, I just love him so so much, Alan Tudyk, you did amazing with him, I genuinely can not see anyone else that would of taken him and made him AS GOOD AND ICONIC as he did, I just love him so so much, I adore him, I need him, I adore him, and I know it's gone so far when I found myself saying "I would let the world burn for this man," if he told me he hated another game and wanted it gone, disappeared, killing his competition, I would do it for him, anything to have him with me still. I adore everything about him.

And I haven't even gotten to TURBO since he got 24 SECONDS OF 3D SCREEN TIME (YES I COUNTED AND TIMED).

what was the question? oh favorite thing?

I'm very big on voices. so. voice. voice

[happypotato48]

Only Boo! EP 7 Unhinged Tangent Thoughts

I'm BACK! with this week ep of Only Boo! i didn't write anything last week because i wasn't feeling cute, but now i'm back to my adrob self so let's fucking go!!

tldr for my last week ep thoughts : these boys are too dumb and too gay to get aways with anything.

Oh no a public proposal. thanks god it's just a dream cause like, Moo did you learned nothing about what Kang likes? btw i'm not a person who like big public display of affection, so satan if you're listening plz marcy kill me if this happened to me.

This boy is too gay to function.

Ok, all the boys in this show are too gays to function in society.

These knuckleheads. i understand that they're both angry for valid reasons but like stop being so self absorb for a bit and asks payos how he's feelling for a change.

Good on you Kang for being direct and honest. i'm totally not jelly of you at all for having two manic pixie dream boys fell head over heels for you. *sobs in single*

Hunny, you don't need radar to detect this shit you just need an eyes.

WHAT DID I TELL YOU! good dicks come to you naturally. and lo behold. Payos babe, the universe is telling you something here.

*dying from them cheeks*

Moo i know you loves Kai palo but you need to change it up sometime. Thai food has so much to offer especially in khao kaeng shop.

Potae, you came through this time so i give you a pass. but this boy deserves better than what you're offering him right now.

Oh my god indeed. แกง มึงก็ร้ายเหมือนกันนะ.

DRWAAMAA!!

I could and had finished what these two are eating all by my self.... Waahhh I'm a pig! Wuahhh! anyways i'm honkgry for hotpot now and food are amazing who give a shit about being a skinny BL boy.

Carrot the gayest vegetable second only to eggplant.

Owww! my beautiful baby, don't cry. You will fall in love with a handsome business man who also happened to be your long lost childhood bestfriend soon. just keep you chin up baby.

opkdgogkrkgkkgkrkegokslfpdsp!

*continuing to giggle uncontrollably like a madman*

I will not feel bad for this boy I will not feel bad for this boy I will not feel bad for this bo... Fuck!

YAY! Gay Magic!

Heheheheee that was the cutest shit i ever witnessed i legitimately gone complate gagabanana over that scene at the pier my heart is so full right now. i think i don't mind much about the fake out kiss at the end cuz both the actors are very young and very news. they also been giving their all in other aspects. for the side couple, Potea and me are still on thin ice but we'll see what happened after Payos confessed maybe they will finally win me over.

[total-drama-brainrot]

Total Drama Psycho Noah AU, before Alejandro knew the truth, Noah would sometimes cuddle to the charmer while sleeping... Alejandro was amused and fond by this... But when Alejandro learns about Noah's true crazy colors and the sleeping Noah cuddles into Alejandro again, Alejandro is trying NOT to freak out! 😴

Wait no you're so right. Noah's sleep cuddling habit would've been seen as innocuous throughout the whole series, especially in World Tour when their sleeping arrangements were so cramped. Of course he'd always end up practically gluing himself to the nearest person in his sleep- who would usually ended up being Owen or sometimes Alejandro, as they were the two people Noah tolerated enough to spend most of his time with.

But as soon as everyone on the jet becomes aware that he's not nearly as harmless as he's portrayed himself to be? When he intentionally shows himself to be a threat to their safety/wellbeings?

Well, suddenly his "cute little quirk" has turned into a very volatile situation.

-

What is Alejandro supposed to do when he wakes up in the Economy cabin, not even twenty four hours after the London challenge, and finds everyone's fearful eyes trained on him. How is he supposed to react when he feels the familiar weight of the dangerous, downright vicious person they'd all watched snap someone's arms like uncooked spaghetti, draped over him like a blanket?

Especially when they all know that a Noah who's woken up before he's ready is cranky. And that was the Noah from before, who was apparently keeping a tight leash on his wilder instincts- now that he's given up on holding himself back, who knows how he'd respond to being woken up?

Oh wait. They all know how he'd respond- and it involves a lot of bloodshed.

He's trapped; waking up Noah is a guaranteed death sentence, and any movement could be enough to stir the other from his precarious slumber.

And the others know it too. Tyler and Duncan watch him like a hawk, their faces palid with pity and terror, though they thankfully remain just as muted as Alejandro himself. It's unnerving, being held under the terror-shrunk gazes of the two, but not nearly as unnerving as the soft steady breathing of the deranged bookworm sleeping on top of him.

For a moment, there's a tentative silence that hovers between the three of them like a sheet of ice over a frozen lake.

So of course, Owen's boisterous entrance to the cabin shatters it.

"Hey guys, Chef's serving breakfast in the-! Oh, did I interrupt something?"

Noah stirs from his sleep, and Alejandro's breath becomes an inmate in the prison of his lungs. He'd doomed.

"Wuzza'? Is it ch'llenge time?" The bookworm slurs, one hand wiping at his sleep-crusted eyes as the other finds purchase against Alejandro's shoulder. Noah pulls himself into a sitting position, his body subconsciously curling itself towards the nearest heat source- which just so happens to be Alejandro's terror stilled form- and the Spaniard in question internally prays to whatever God is listening that he'll somehow evade the psycho's inevitable ire when he realises that Alejandro is, in fact, not a pillow.

After a trepid second of inaction, Noah hums inquisitively against the warm mass beneath him, and blinks tired eyes up towards Alejandro's ashen face. A moment of incomprehension passes. Then another. And then realisation flickers over the bookworm's features like a dying ember.

Alejandro is so fucked.

Noah's face solidifies into something blank and unreadable- the complete lack of discernible emotion in is expression is almost eldritch in its uncanniness- and the latino doesn't know if its more or less unnerving than the unhinged, crooked smile he's graced the cast with yesterday. But then, unexpectedly, Noah wordlessly slides himself off of Alejandro's lap.

No broken arms. No stab wounds. Not even a threat against his person.

...What?

"Uh. Sorry for sleeping on you, I guess." The cynic says off-handedly, in his customary sardonic drawl, before he steps over to Owen and calmly asks what the blonde oaf was so excited about.

What?!

"It... is no problem, mi amigo." Alejandro chokes out, displacing the stationary air in his lungs.

Where is the vicious psychopath from last night? Why is Noah acting so... normal? Was his display of instability a fever dream or something?

No, both Tyler and Duncan shoot Alejandro matching looks of bewilderment from their seat on the adjacent bench. What happened last night was real, regardless of Noah's current docility.

Owen and Noah's conversation filters off into nothing, and the Archvillain spares a glance towards the pair. Only to find the both of them staring back at him, grinning; Owen's face scrunching up into his usual friendly smile, and Noah's smug smirk rapidly morphing into that same too-wide snarl he'd adorned on the bus- are those fucking fangs?!

"You make a pretty good pillow, Al."