#how else was i going to VENT /j

[xenondrawz]

06.07.2023

Rest in pieces wacom pen.

[24-guy]

When the usual off licence I go to has misgendered me twice now so I have to figure out if I need to go to a different one (change in routine) or if I change everything about myself so they see I'm a guy (lots of effort and money)

[karpsicles]

.

[spoonietimelordy]

..........

[tinydefector]

TINYYYYYYYYYY

Headcanon for human effect !!!!

Rodimus discovered how soft the ambassador is because once, they were in a meeting with UM and Megs about security protocols. Rodimus is bored a bit, so he tries to get the liaison's attention, in vain.

So he just... pokes them repeatedly in their side, because how else would he do that huh?

His digit dig a bit too much in their side, he can feel the warmth and the squishiness, and is surprise when they yelp and laugh.

"URGH!?- Rodimus! stop that it tickles hahaha!"

Oooooohh... ooh he has it baaaad... they just made the cutest noise he heard in a long time... he found their weak spot...

Megs and Mags just stare at him disappointed because the captain is unfocused and disturb the Ambassador.

Twisted ankle 13

Human effects Masterlist

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Word count: 2k

Warnings: post smut, getting walked in on.

_________________

The sound of shuffling and slight movement in the room is what makes the ambassador,  bleary eyes cracking open slightly as they take the form of a blue mech in. "Mmm Traxies?" They call out softly looking up from where they lay against Ratchet's chassis. 

Ratchet's optics online fractionally to see Traxies frozen mid-stride, jaw hanging open in blatant surprise. Drift stirred awake as well, arching a brow plate at youngling in undisguised amusement. 

Venting softly, Ratchet greeted their charge in familiar tones. "Good morning, Traxies. Causing trouble already, before the sun cycle?" Traxes gulped audibly, tripping over his pedes in haste to explain. "J-just wanted some energon, don't mind me! Uh - didn't mean to interrupt..." He trailed off, wide optics roving over the three in utter disbelief. 

Drift finally lost composure, snickering into his servo. Ratchet merely cycled a ventilation, serenely cradling the now-wakening ambassador. They pull their blanket closer in embarrassment being caught in such an undress state.

 Traxes cycled his optics rapidly, pedes rooted to the floor in awkward shock. "Uh, hey Ambassador. Fancy seeing you here..." He trailed off, field pulsing distressed embarrassment. Drift took pity, sending the younger mech. "Relax, kid. But you might want to be quick before this becomes anymore awkward for everyone”  

The medic frowned half-heartedly before turning a softer expression to Traxies. "I wasn't aware you would be back today." His tone is soft. Traxes shuffled awkwardly, kicking at imaginary scrapes on the floor. "So you - uh, fraggin' my friend now?" He blurted before wilting under Ratchet's stern glare. 

Drift howled laughter, drawing a foam pillow and lobbing it at the pouting youngling's helm. "Don't get your wires knotted! Go fuel up, we'll be along shortly." With a mumbled apology, Traxes beat a hasty retreat.

The Ambassador groans and presses their face into Ratchet chassis out of embarrassment. "Fuck" They mumble as the feeling Drift move to get out of berth. Their body felt like jelly and they truly didn't want to move, but knew they had to.  Ratchet's chassis hums beneath the ambassador's cheek. "There now, no harm done," the medic soothed gently. 

Drift stretched languidly as he rose, pausing to send them both fond smile. "He'll get over it. Ain't the first time that mechlet's walked in on more'n he bargained for." 

Ratchet rumbled a quiet chuckle, stroking their back with utmost care."Stay as long as you need." He whispered to them. They let out a sigh. "I've got work today Ratchet, Bridge command meeting about our next port and sending reports back to Cybertron. I think we might also be heading back to Cybertron. I don't look forward to having a holo meeting with Prowl again" they explain. 

Ratchet let out a theatrical groan at the Ambassador's words. "Primus spare us all from Prowl and his endless bureaucracy," he grumbled. 

Rising smoothly, he settled their draped guest against the berth with utmost care as he recovered their clothing and bag. "Well then, best get you ready, can't have you leaving looking a mess sweet thing." 

Drift poked his helm back in, wearing an impish grin. "Sounds like Ratch better patch you up right quick, Ambassador. Can't be limping through a vid call with Prowl looking like you spent the night trapped under this lugnut!" 

A rude gesture was the medic's only response, though his weathered faceplates crinkled with wry humour. "Scoot, you rusting gearstick - go make yourself useful." 

"Ratchet, Drift. Thank you for last night, it was lovely" they call to the two mechs before turning around with their clothing in hand to try and get dressed despite how sore they still are. 

“Pah, don't go getting all sappy now," Ratchet huffed, 

"Anytime you need a couple mechs to help...relax tensions," Drift coos only for Ratchet to swat the mech away, vents gusting irritation. But his optics shone with plain affection as they tracked the Drift's movements. "Take care on your travels and try not to let Prowl's do you in" 

Leaving the suite was a struggle, not wanting to get caught as they left. But walking down the halls with a slight limp was something they could easily state as twisting their ankle.

 Just as the ambassador rounded the corner, two familiar figures fell into step beside them - Nadia and Millian, matching grins stretching across their faces.

"Well well, look who finally decided to crawl out of bed," Nadia drawled archly, shamelessly raking her gaze over the ambassador's slightly dishevelled state. "Quite a night, hm?" 

Millian snickered, throwing an arm around their shoulders. "You dog! Spill the deets - whose bed were you warming, to work up such a limp?" Their smirk made clear they already guessed the culprits. 

Wincing, the ambassador tried to shrug them off with little success. "Nothing to tell. I'd prefer to keep my private business private, if you don't mind." 

But Nadia was having none of it, sidling close to share a conspicuous wink. "Ooh, getting cosy with the bot brass, are we? Can't say I blame you - they do know how to show a human a good time." 

Her grin widened at the ambassador's flustered face, taking their silence as confirmation enough. "Guys enough, I'm already in a  bad position if 'this' " they make a hand gesture at the two. "Gets out to Earth or Cybertron, it will be my neck in a noose so please don't" they try to settle the matter. They did enjoy chatting with Nadia and Millian but this was against regulation and if Megatron,  Rodimus or Ultra Magnus got whiff of it, it could mean their job on the Lost light.

Nadia and Millian sobered slightly at the ambassador's sombre tone, exchanging glances. "Alright, alright, we'll can it with the teasing," Nadia sighed, giving their arm a gentle squeeze. "You know we've got your back, yeah? No way would we see you in real trouble."

Millian nodded earnestly. "You're one of us, Ambassador - we look out for our own." Their grin returned, softer around the edges. "But hey, if anyone asks, you definitely did NOT just limp out of Ratchet's quarters. Cross my heart!" 

Nadia snickered, nudging them playfully. Her smile turned sincere as she studied their friend's tired yet peaceful expression. "And between us? I'm glad you found a little respite aboard this floating madhouse. We all need that, now and then."

"Thank you, I'll give you guys some details later but I do have a meeting with bridge command and I need to try and make it look like I didn't just crawl out of bed with two mechs" they mumble softly only for the two to give them a look of pure shock.

"Two?!" Millian echoes in a frankly scandalised yelp. Nadia elbows them sharply, making frantic shushing motions with her hands. 

"Keep it down, you idiot!" She hisses under her breath before turning back to the ambassador with gleaming eyes. "Well well, you little minx - getting cosy with both the medic and robo Samurai" Her grin is positively wolfish. 

concern shadows Millian’s gaze. "Just be careful, Ambassador. Fraternisation regs or no - getting tangled up with high command could spell trouble if word spreads." 

Nadia nods earnestly. "They're right. Not that we don't support you, but..." she fidgets, taking their hands, giving a gentle squeeze. 

"Both Ratchet and Drift made it clear they don't expect anything from me. offered if I need stress relief I was welcome. Plus Ratchet would rather know what I'm getting up to Incase he needs to perform medical on me" they whisper to them as the three walk towards the Ambassador's next stop.

"Hmm. Well that's reasonable enough, I suppose," Nadia muses pragmatically, though a glint of mischief remains in her eyes. "And who could resist the charms of those two mechs? You do have excellent taste, I'll give you that." 

Millian grin softens as they near the lift that will take the ambassador to their meeting. "Jokes aside, I'm glad you've found comfort here, weird ship though it is. Not the life any of us expected, but..." 

They shrugs amicably. "We make the most of what joys we can. And there are certainly perks to rubbing plating with the people in charge." A final wink, and Millian steps back with Nadia, offering a casual salute. 

"Knock 'em dead at the meeting, Ambassador. And try not to limp too obviously" they chuckle as the lift doors close. 

Megatron is sitting looking rather bored, but his optics light up when he sees the Ambassador a small smile graces his faceplate.  Magnus gives a small nod while Rodimus smiles like a fool waving before making his way towards them. "Hello Rodimus,  sorry I twisted my ankle earlier and it's not pleasant to walk" they chuckle softly hoping the lie passed over their helms without making them question how. 

Magnus merely nodded greeting, ever professional and stern. "Let us proceed with the agenda. Your tardiness sets us behind schedule." 

Rodimus, of course, could not be contained. "Oof, rough night? Happens to the best of us!" He moves towards them with a smile. "Ratchet patch you up okay?" 

Ultra Magnus sighed heavily. "Captain, please. We are in the midst of official proceedings." 

"I'm alright, Ratchet said it will be fine nothings broken, just going to be sore for a bit." They confirm to Rodimus as the mech picks them up and brings them to the table. Rodimus continues to let his servos and digits poke the Ambassador. Making them fidget. 

"Have we heard from Optimus if we have been requested to return to Cybertron, he was rather worried about Traxies, or if Galactica Union has asked for a new report on our recent travels?" They inquire dreading and hoping they didn't have to have another holo meeting with Prowl. 

Megatron studied the interplay with optics gleaming curiosity. " Captain, do cease your pestering the Liason." His field pulsed amusement as Rodimus reluctantly set the squirming human down. "To answer your query, Ambassador - I'm afraid your schedule remains as packed as ever. Word from Prime requests our return within the decacycle, and the Union demands their tedious status updates with predictable punctuality." 

Ultra Magnus nodded curt approval. "And Prowl as well, regarding the security details and records of the ship. He requires an immediate vid conference to...discuss developments." Rodimus groaned dramatically. "Ugh, leave it to Prowl to ruin a perfect morning. Why can't he just lurk in the shadows like Megs here and let us have our fun?" 

Megatron shoots Rodimus a glare but does make an effort to dignify Rodimus’ remark. "Ah sounds about right, I can't convince one of you to handle the Prowl meeting? I will happily deal with Optimus or the Galactica union, and take on extra work. Please" they nearly beg, only to yelp as Rodimus' digits run up their side  making them stiffen not expecting the contact. "Rodimus!"

Megatron observed with growing amusement as the small human squirmed fruitlessly in Rodimus's mischievous grasp. "Captain, tormenting them will not make their tasks any easier." 

He turned a gaze of singular intent upon Ultra Magnus. "I believe a request was made, Magnus. And as holders of far greater stamina and patience with the Enforcer, taking the meeting would be a small alleviation to your schedule, would it not?"

Magnus's field pulsed reluctance but duty compelled as expected. "Very well. As ranking officer, handling communication with Alliance High Command falls under my purview. I will handle Prowl at the scheduled time."

Rodimus whooped with glee, finally releasing the frazzled ambassador. "Looks like you're off the hook! Maybe you can help me with some more of those charts you were showing me last time so I can get better at reading them." He grinned down at them. 

They slowly lean back into Rodimus as they talk with Megatron and Ultra Magnus. "I'll make sure we are stocked for the trip back, do you need to organise anyone for the quantum generators maintenance?" The Ambassador asks, shuttering again as Rodimus continues to touch them.

Ultra Magnus cleared his intake, field broadcasting discomfort yet compelled as ever by duty. "I will see to ensuring all systems are fully prepped and operational for transit. Your role is coordination with our human team so they are set for a quantum jump, Ambassador."

Rodimus fairly purred against the human's back, appreciating how warm their smaller frame is against his. They are so soft and plush in his servos and primus he doesn't want to let go of them. 

____________

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[lemurzsquad]

Hand Sanitizer

Pairing: Sakusa x gn!reader (platonic or romantic, up to interpretation)

Summary: You and Sakusa hate each other with a passion, and it's almost always a disagreement over hand sanitizer. So when you leave to wash your hands and don't come back, Sakusa learns why exactly you avoid using it so adamantly.

A/N: Okay so this fic. Hooooo boy. This fic. I've been wanting to write it for a while and finally have. It started as a "Reasons why I'm pretty sure Sakusa would hate me irl" and turned into this.

So I have a skin condition known as aquagenic wrinkling of the palms (or AWP), which affects my hands when they come in contact with water, which is what this fic is about. I never hear about this condition anywhere, and it's very lonely sometimes, and there's no real treatment for it (from what I've seen). So this is essentially a vent where I take my skin condition seriously for once instead of just making water allergy jokes to cope lol

(More info about AWP here)

Word count: 3898

cw: skin condition (non-graphic descriptions and discussion) (AWP - please read above), hurt/comfort, angst, crying, enemies to friends...?, emotionally constipated apologies from Sakusa, hand sanitizer is evil /j, vent, not proofread because I just wanted to get this done and posted to do literally anything else, (please lmk if I should tag anything else)

(Disclaimer: I am not a doctor, and everything written here is purely from my own experiences and observations. If you would like to learn more, please do your own research; this is not designed to be informative. It's purely for myself and for awareness.)

You and Sakusa had never gotten along.

You were certain you knew when it started, having been completely oblivious of one another up until that point.

It was when you were both first years in high school, and there happened to be a lizard in the classroom. You, upon seeing it, immediately proceeded to pick it up and ask the teacher to let you put it outside, to which they agreed.

You came back to the classroom, dusting off your hands, when a curly-haired boy took it upon himself to comment, “Go use some hand sanitizer, would you?”

You squinted at him, partly confused as to why he was talking to you and how you had never noticed he sat there before. “No thanks,” you answered, “I'd rather just wash my hands.”

“I don't think just washing your hands would be enough,” he rebutted with a sharp look behind his bangs. “You probably don't even know how to properly wash your hands.”

“Well, too bad! I'm not using hand sanitizer!” You were starting to get annoyed, crossing your arms.

Somehow, that seemed to make him even more disgusted, possibly at the thought that you were spreading whatever it was on your hands onto your clothes now, too.

The two of you threw jabs back and forth until the teacher separated you, which you were both happy to oblige. The animosity between you never seemed to quite dissipate even as the year went on and you became second years. You almost felt bad for the misunderstanding, knowing it was entirely your own fault, but how were you supposed to explain to this random kid that you couldn't use hand sanitizer even if you wanted to? At least, in your head you couldn't.

At some point, you and Sakusa became something of enemies within your class—renowned ones, at that. People would often ask the both of you why you hated each other so much, but your answers were vague at best.

“He's just so pretentious,” you said once.

“They're just so obstinate,” he said once.

And thus, an impasse stretched between you. You hadn't even learned his name until months after your first encounter, too bitter to really care.

Despite the efforts you both went through to avoid being within the presence of the other, you somehow still ended up nearby. Maybe it was your teachers attempting to make you get along—maybe it was the universe laughing in your face.

Throughout that entire time, you still faithfully avoided hand sanitizer like the plague. The one time the nearest bathroom was out of order for a little while and you couldn't wash your hands, you used as little of the accursed substance as you could. Whatever microscopically thin layer that coated your hands there was, you shook it off almost violently, simultaneously disgusted by the feeling of something on your skin and afraid of what it might do.

The disapproving look Sakusa gave you when he saw that was palpable.

At some point, you hated each other mostly out of principle. You'd both kept it up this long—it would be weird to suddenly just let it go since your flimsy justifications seemed enough until now. To admit that you were being unreasonable would be worse than getting along, you separately reasoned.

So when you were paired up for a project, you couldn't help but grimace. Sakusa was the first to go up to the teacher about it.

“I can't work with them,” you heard him say. For once, you agreed with him.

The teacher, however, dismissed his concerns with a wave, saying, “In life, you don't get to pick who you work with. Sometimes you'll have to try to put aside your differences to get your work done.”

It sounded stupid to you, like some half-hearted excuse so they wouldn't have to rearrange seating or partners. But it's not like you had any place to argue, so you resigned to just sucking it up.

Instead of working together, you both divvied up tasks as quickly as possible and did what you assigned yourselves—separately.

All was going well; you ignored each other and worked on the project silently. Despite other groups discussing their plans and the room being filled with chatter, your share corner was dead silent save the sound of pen on paper.

Which didn't last long when suddenly the tip of your pen snapped off. The now open ink tube spilled onto your hands, and when you tried to minimize the damage, it only got worse. By the time you dropped the pen onto your open notebook, raising your hands in surrender, they were absolutely coated in black splotches. A sense of defeat washed over you as you watched your words get covered and your paper stained in ebony.

Taking a moment to glance at your already ruined hands, you just resigned to picking up the pen and throwing it out. It was your favorite pen, which was unfortunate. It couldn't be helped, you told yourself.

Sakusa had noticed you flailing about your desk, silently judging you for the clumsy mess you made when you should have just thrown out the pen the second it broke to avoid the noir crime scene that now covered you and your area. He scowled knowing you would now have to redo whatever you had written for the project.

It was nearing the end of school, the class you were currently in being the final one of the day. You approached the teacher's table and asked if you could go wash your hands. They checked the clock to see about twenty minutes left before replying, “Make it quick.”

You walked past Sakusa's desk on your way to the door. He made the snide remark, “You could get the ink off really well with hand sanitizer.”

It took everything in you not to snap back at him, but you just hurried past, careful not to touch anything on the way out.

Sakusa knew he would never understand you. From the moment you met, you stubbornly refused what seemed to be basic courses of action. Touch something dirty? Use hand sanitizer. Eating? Wash your hands before and after to keep from touching anything.

The couple of times he had seen you wash your hands, it was very brief, and you seemed to avoid using the air dryer, opting for paper towels that were arguably undoing whatever progress you made in washing your hands.

At the same time, you avoided any task that would require you to touch dust or water. You always asked to sweep or clean windows, so much so that everyone just ended up giving you those tasks to get you to stop asking. If you did get something on your hands, you immediately wiped or shook it off, seemingly disgusted. You would even briefly run it under water just to dry it on your clothes so they weren't wet. It seemed there were things worse than water if you were willing to rinse them off.

But it was still that one avoidance that came between you: the hand sanitizer. It was practically the same as water, and it dried quickly. Even if it was comparable to washing your hands, it was still much more convenient in most scenarios. Yet you continued to adamantly refuse to ever use it. At some point you declared, “I would rather die,” when he had tried to squeeze some on your hand, earning him his wrist grabbed and pushed away. 

He just didn't understand.

So when he found you sobbing in front of the stairs, opening your hands and clenching them closed into loose fists repeatedly, he was beyond confused.

You hadn't come back to class after leaving to wash the remnants of your broken pen, so the teacher decided it was your project partner, Sakusa, who should find you and return the belongings you left behind. He went over to your open notebook that remained just where you left it and noted the handful of words that were still visible. 

Sakusa folded the cover over, enclosing the now dried puddle of ink. The remainder of your things he scooped into his arms, leaving the room once the halls had cleared a significant amount. As much as he wanted to just leave your things and go to volleyball practice, he figured it would end poorly.

Plus, what could possibly have kept you out of class for so long that you would have left everything behind? There was no way it had taken that long to get most of the ink off of your skin, so either you had just skipped the last bit of school or something happened. Since you hadn't taken your wallet with you with your IDs (he checked your bag when he put the notebook back inside, sure that it was completely dry), he reasoned it was probably the latter.

“Tsk.” They would have been able to get it off with hand sanitizer, he thought, brows furrowed. This is such a waste of time.

Sakusa wandered through the halls when he didn't find you by the bathrooms. He was starting to think it was a lost cause trying to return your bag; he even had to text his cousin to tell him why he would be late. It wasn't until he got to a particularly empty hallway did he hear something.

Quietly, in a dark alcove with a set of stairs leading up, a figure was huddled against a wall. Their tears were soft but anguished, stifled because it was in the environment of school. Sakusa had tried to ignore them until he realized it was you.

You held your palms up just past your knees that were pressed against your chest. You opened and closed your hands, a fresh cascade of tears painting your cheeks as you choked back a sob. You pressed—with more pressure than could have been painful—your thumb into the center of your other palm, nails digging into the back of your hand. You set your closed eyes on your knees with the hope that it might stop the water that leaked from them.

Sakusa, with great caution, approached your hunched figure. He didn't want to, he really didn't. You were the person he probably hated the most at his school, but somehow he knew he'd seem like an awful person if he didn't at least give your belongings to you directly—he wouldn't give you the satisfaction of another thing to hold over his head.

And yet those thoughts went to the back of his mind when he crouched down in front of you. His mask and curly hair obscured his focused expression as he tried to study your current state. The moment you seemed to hear him there, you held your breath and repressed your already quiet cries.

When Sakusa got close, you buried yourself further in to hide your face behind your knees and clenched your hands even more.

He frowned and something in his chest tightened. His brows furrowed deeper over his eyes and he huffed. He saw your nails digging into the skin on the backs of your hands.

“That's going to leave a mark if you keep doing that.” It came out more biting than he had meant it, but he was being serious.

It was then that you could no longer hold back your sobs, almost choking on your own tears. The grip you had of your hands softened and unlinked; instead, you lightly shook them apart from each other. Sakusa had to take a moment to process, but it almost seemed like there was something wrong with them. 

He just wanted to get you to stop crying so he could give you your bag. As much as he hated the gesture, he asked, “What's wrong with your hands?”

You curled your lips in to bite down on them, fighting back hiccups. With your eyes tightly screwed shut, you upturned your palms.

The sight alone made Sakusa's eyebrows fly up in shock. 

He didn't mean to, but he grabbed your wrist to get a better look. Ignoring the ink stains that faintly persisted, there were pale, patchy splotches in the center of your palm and on the side edges of your fingers; there were even some tiny pale rings on the periphery of the bigger splotches. But underneath that, the skin seemed as if it had soaked in water for hours or maybe even days. Not only were there dozens of deep crevice lines trailing from the tips of all of your fingers to their bases but the lines on your palms were more prominent, surrounded by profound, dense wrinkles that spanned the entire surface.

His eyes darted around your hand for a few moments just trying to comprehend what he was looking at. It looked unnatural—it looked painful. And when he met your gaze, he saw unidentifiable emotions flash across it. Was it shame? Regret? He couldn't be sure aside from the blood that seemed to drain from your face.

You tried to pull your hand away, but Sakusa wouldn't let go. His eyes never left yours, searching for some kind of answer. When he couldn't find it there, he asked, “What happened?” It was soft, calm, and even, enough to make you tear up a little again.

The second time you tugged, he released your wrist. You pushed your thumb into your palm again, looking away. Hiding your hands away in the space between your stomach and where your legs were still tucked against your torso, you sniffled a few times and tried to even out your breathing.

“I-It's normal… it just h-happens when I-I touch water…” You stuttered and mumbled between hiccups.

“That is not normal,” Sakusa said a little too quickly and curtly, realizing it probably would have made it seem like he was berating you.

With another sniffle, you said, “It's a– it's a skin condition.” You started to scratch your palms partly out of stress and partly out of the persistent stinging. “It reacts to water i-if I touch it for too long.”

His eyebrows knitted in concern. “Was that from washing your hands then?”

You gave a small nod, still avoiding his gaze. “I couldn't get the ink off and ended up w-washing them for too long…”

“You could have just used hand sanitizer,” he said genuinely. For the moment, he almost forgot he was supposed to hate you, more focused on being worried than anything.

Your answer was your head shaking rather fervently. “No, I can't.” You lowered to set your forehead against your knees again. “Well, actually, I don't know. I-It just scares me and I don't want to r-risk any more pain than I already have. I haven't h-had good experiences with it…”

“What did hand sanitizer ever do to you?” It came out snarkier than Sakusa had meant. He slowly lowered himself to sit with his legs crossed in front of you, your bag still next to him.

You let out a heavy breath. “I was a dumb kid in elementary,” you started. “I had an obsession with scented hand sanitizer for probably a few months. I used it multiple times a day, and even though I don't know for sure if it's related, my hands got worse after that year I think. Only after that did I finally go to the doctor to get it diagnosed after my mom did a ton of research. I agreed to avoid hand sanitizer from then on. I just don't want to risk being in more pain…”

You both went silent.

“Oh…” It was all that left Sakusa's lips. A sudden wave of guilt crashed into him. All of the times he had berated you for not using hand sanitizer and all of his snide, rude, annoyed remarks resurfaced in his conscience. He felt terrible. He felt bad. Someone was hurting and all he did was throw lighter fluid on their problems—for months—and it seemed there was finally a spark to set it all ablaze. The thought that he started it all made it worse.

“Stop with whatever weird look you have on your face.” You squinted at him and his downturned, scrunched face. You'd calmed down enough to be making quips, it would appear. “It's not like I can do anything about it.” You shrugged, half-hearted.

He searched your face again for any sign of emotion aside from blank resignation, but he couldn't find anything. “Is there no treatment?”

You shrunk down further into your huddle, not vocally answering, but the answer was still clear.

Something about the whole situation made his heart hurt; it made him upset, he realized. “So what, you just have to avoid water?”

The nod of your head to the side looked pathetic as you avoided his eyes. After several seconds of silence, you said, “I used to love swimming. It's not like I can't, it's just… it hurts and it makes me feel gross. I don't even like the beach anymore because if I go in the water and get my hands wet, there's no real place to dry them off.” You laughed humorlessly. “It's stupid. You'd think I would get more used to it and get over it as I got older, but it just made me more upset. Why me? Why did I have to get stuck with a condition that's rare and isn't really bad enough for people to care enough to find a treatment? At least, it feels that way…

“I know it's awful, but I sometimes wonder, ‘Why didn't I get stuck with something worse? Then I might have a way to treat it. Then people might care.’”

You glanced up to judge Sakusa's reaction, instantly regretting spilling your feelings and questioning why you did. Tears threatened to flood over again and spill from your eyes. You felt helpless; not only from your condition but also from being stared down by the person you were certain despised you more than anyone. You were giving him more ammo to be disgusted and to detest you, too.

But you couldn't find his face. His ebony bangs hung down like a curtain and his mask further obscured your view, his downturned line of sight completely blocked out.

When the silence was beginning to crawl around on your skin and became almost deafening, you took in a sharp breath and held it for a moment before breathing out a tiny apology. “Sorry… you don't wanna hear about this…”

“No.”

“...No? No… what?”

“No…” 

Sakusa was struggling to get out the right words. How does he say sorry to you in a way that you might actually believe? How does he tell you that you're allowed to be upset, that you can talk about it? How does he make you understand that it's okay?

And how is he supposed to get you to believe it when it's coming from him?

His voice sounded almost angry but not at you—it was for you. “You can be upset,” he said between gritted teeth, hands clenched into tight fists. “No one deserves to have to live everyday avoiding something so common just to not be in pain. And no one deserves to have some jerk constantly making light of it even if they don't know.”

The way your eyes widened and water dripped down your cheeks in sudden streams said it all. “Oh…” was all you could muster before you completely broke down. No one you had ever told about your condition had seemed to fully grasp how much you were hurting inside, how every day was a struggle to avoid reminding yourself of how awful your hands were, how even looking at your own hands sometimes made you ashamed and loathing of yourself. It was a constant reminder that there would always be something wrong with you; you would always be broken, and there was no way to fix it.

Sakusa let you cry with the renewed emotional rush. He remained firmly planted where he sat, not moving an inch. He was not going anywhere.

And he didn't, even as your sobbing slowed to quiet sniffles and wiping mostly dried tears. It took a while before you finally muttered, “Thank you… No one's ever said that to me before…”

“Well, they should.” His words were curt but lacked any sharpness to them.

When you looked up to meet his eyes, he turned them away from you. Hesitantly, he uttered, “Look, I can't promise you that we'll get along, but I can assure you I'll try not to bother you anymore. No more stupid hand sanitizer comments anymore, either.” It was the only peace offering he could make for a chance to pave a path towards making amends.

You let out a breath through your nose that was close to a laugh before hiccuping, “Next thing you know, you'll be telling me we'll work on our group project together.”

“Don't push it,” he answered, quickly and humorlessly. It only made you laugh, although he couldn't comprehend why.

“It's getting late,” Sakusa tried to divert. “You should head home.”

You reached for your phone, and the little numbers on the screen confirmed his statement. Suddenly, a flash of panic crossed your face. “I don't have my bag,” you state frantically, “or any of my stuff.”

It was then that Sakusa held up the original object of his search for you, gently lowering it to the ground. “The teacher told me to bring it to you since you never came back.”

Relief washed over you in a calming rush, and you finally seemed to relax. You pulled your knees away from your chest and sat with your legs crossed. Confirming that everything was in your bag, an immensely relieved sigh left your lips in a gust.

“Thank you.” Your gaze was earnest, trying to convey just how much you meant your words to make sure it sunk in.

Sakusa just grumbled, “Whatever.” He was back to his usual self despite how he stumbled embarrassingly when he got up and realized his legs had gone numb. He reluctantly offered up his hand to help you stand, but you only looked at it for a moment, mouth pressed into a line, before you got to your feet on your own.

He pretended he hadn't tried to assist you, instead pivoting on his heels and shoving his hands in his pockets with a slouched posture. Without another word exchanged, you both headed towards the school's entrance.

The air fell into a comfortable quiet until then. When you did reach the entrance, however, you both stopped in your tracks. You turned to Sakusa, giving him a soft smile and a small wave, and headed down the street. Only when you turned the corner, out of sight, did he head back towards the volleyball gym. He was so horribly beyond late that it was almost laughable.

But he didn't care, knowing it meant someone was there in that very moment for you when you needed it most. So what if he also started to mend whatever nonexistent relationship was there in the process? What mattered was that someone told you that it was okay.

And Sakusa was okay with that. Being late to practice wasn't nearly as pressing as his long overdue apologies. What could be more important than that?

Do not copy and/or repost!! Any likes or reblogs are appreciated, though! (c) 2024 LemurzSquad

[schrodinger-swriter]

Can I Ask for Husks fluff alphabet?

A, C, I, J, K, N, P, Z preatty please?🥺

(I'm sorry I almost hit the limit. I'm obsessed with him😭)

A, C, I, J, K, N, P, and Z for Husk

No need to apologize! If I wanted a smaller limit I would have said so in the original post! Nothing wrong in wanting to get the most out of something C:

I hope you enjoy this, Anon, it was fun playing with Husk's personality in this! He reminds me of a grumpy grandfather.

Confession, I thought for the longest time Husk was a.. well dog. I.. Don't know why I thought that, perhaps it's the face markings and his name being "Husk" (Like Husky) that caused my confusion. For two years after the pilot I was... rather dumb..

What do you mean Husk is 75.

ATTRACTION:

He enjoys those who are more honest with themselves and aren't pushovers. He can hardly stand those in denial. He calls it as he sees it when he's pushed to do so. This is less of an attraction thing, but I feel he would be most compatible with someone he can be real with and can be able to deal with his bluntness. In a way, you keep each other in check.

CUDDLES:

Small and soft, warm too. He's a cat, so it feels like snuggling into a large cat! I don't think he would be too deep into PDA, the most he would be comfortable with doing is quick kisses when someone else is passing by.. usually... more on that later. Though, now that it's mentioned, I don't think he would be too big on physical affection all that much.. now don't get me wrong he loves a good back massage every now and then, but it's going to take him a while to curl up next to you for cuddling. Little spoon.

INJURY:

Would ask you what the hell happened while wrapping your wound.. Goes from scolding you for being a jackass if you just. Threw yourself into danger, but will go on to say you have some guts. Stern when it comes to you taking it easy so you can heal properly... is not phased by any false play ups of your pain, though depending on his mood he might let it pass. For a bit..

If he's the one injured he's stubborn, insisting that it's not that big of a deal. Dresses and cleans it appropriately, all while nursing a bottle of booze. Dismissive when talking about what led to the injury. Might be a little standoffish if you try to take care of him, especially if you come off as trying to baby him.

JEALOUSY:

He deals with his jealousy the same way he deals with all of his other problems. Alcohol. He sees another man chatting you up? Alcohol. Sees you laughing a little too much at some chumps joke? Alcohol. Someone talks brings up how you seem so lively around another person? Alcohol. I think you get the point. However, if it's a case of you being pushed into a situation you don't want to be in, he's going to pick up on your discomfort and drag you away... does not make it seem like you have somewhere else to be, no, he just tells the other person to fuck off as he takes you away. His fur sometimes fluffs up in annoyance. Pulling that pin from the C section, in regards to PDA, he will tug you to his side to further push the effect that you're taken.

KISSES:

Bunny kisses. You know, you two touch noses and nuzzle a bit. He doesn't allow it often, but it is something you two do every now and again. He defaults to kissing you on the mouth, quick pecks usually aren't for him, though... Sometimes leans over the counter of his bar to steal a kiss when no one else is around. This goes for both giving and receiving!

NO:

He can't be with someone who heavily relies on physical touch, it's simply not for him and he can only compromise so much. That's not to say he wouldn't try, because he would. However you can only sacrifice your comfort so much before it becomes a problem, you know? I don't think he would do well with people who complain.. not vent, more so whine about everything. He seems far too irritable to be able to deal with that in his day to day, outside of the bar.

As for actual deal breakers within an established relationship... I think it would have to be a stubborn person. Funny, coming from him since he's stubborn. But Husk appears to still go with the flow of everything, even eventually befriending the rest of the cast. No, when I say stubborn I mean people who can't take their heads out of their asses to see that there's other things to worry about and shit like that. He can only give you so many reality checks before throwing in the towel. Bonus negative points if combined with the complaining thing.

PETNAMES:

Do not call him "Kitten" he might actually be upset by that. On top of that, it's so... basic... predictable. It's not special. No, something that basic wouldn't work on him... and that's not considering the fact he himself isn't too big on petnames. Though.. seeing that he died in the 70s, I enjoy that the thought that he defaults to names from that decade. I believe he would call you "Dollface" or even just "Doll"

It'd take him a while to grow used to the idea of being called anything other than his.. name.. but he looks like a "Pumpkin" or a "Lovey"

.. just don't call him that around Angel, he won't hear the end of it..

ZZZ:

Tends to sleep either sprawled out of curled into a ball. Really it depends, though more often than not he sleeps sprawled out. Doesn't like being held while he sleeps, so cuddling while you guys doze off is off the table. Though, he wouldn't mind you scratching between his ears or shoulder blades sometimes... maybe you'll even hear him purr. Will take a decent amount of time before you get to the "sleeping in the same bed" stage. Old man snores, so good luck with that.

[4cherrycaandy4]

Dealing with the “anti JK Rowling/Harry Potter” and “Anti Snape” crowd as a Black Potterhead/Snape fan can be so unnecessarily exhausting at times.

I had an incident on Reddit that really bothered me (I’ll make a post about it later, I need to vent about that), but I’ll just say that people are so hellbent on wanting to call out J. K. Rowling and Harry Potter for being “problematic”, that they are completely unaware how offensive they come off in the process. Yet, every time I try to point this out, it’s always the same attitude of, “No, you’re wrong, Rowling-”. No, I am not referring to J. K. and her transphobia, but rather the concept of “racism”/house-elves in the story that many people seem to have an issue with.

On the topic about Snape. I am a Black Snape fan, and over the years I have dealt with COUNTLESS Snape antis. You already know where I’m getting at if you’ve encountered them too: their usage of comparing Mudblood to the N-word. Every time you try to explain to them how they shouldn’t do that, they NEVER listen. They hate Snape so badly, that they rather not try to understand how insensitive they’re being.

First off, Mudblood and the N-word are in no way comparable. Saying, “Snape practically called Lily the N-word” comes off way worse than saying, “Snape called Lily a Mudblood” and they know that. People will think worse of Snape if the incident of him calling Lily a Mudblood was made to seem as if he was calling Lily a racial slur. They are using the N-word as a gotcha moment and weaponizing it in their arguments. When they do that, they are downgrading the horrible history and intensity of the N-word, trying to make it seem equivalent to a slur from a fantasy series. It’s insensitive, yet they either don’t care or realize how insensitive it is for that matter. The funny thing is, Snape-antis are always the first ones to call somebody else racist. That’s another thing too, the Snape fandom has people from multiple backgrounds, BLACK Snape fans EXIST!

“Snape called Lily a Mudblood, which is equivalent to the N-word” is always their go-to, I stg. Like.Shut.Up. There’s this common pattern (no matter what the topic is) of how Black people and Black issues are ALWAYS used as a comparison to make something seem worse than it is.😵‍💫

(I also would like to get into the topic about how the blood purity ideology in the story is not racism. Racism is a very specific concept, and it’s not the only form of bigotry and prejudice. That’s a post for another time though.)

It’s so frustrating, because why is it always the people who think they’re informed and enlightened end up getting so defensive and dismissive when they get called out?

[page-yerin]

hey!! ( if your still taking requests) could we please have some Lloyd Ninjago dating headcannons? Ty!!

𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐘𝐃 𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒

genre(s): fluff

pairing: lloyd garmadon x reader

trigger warnings: mentions of insomnia & anxiety

a/n: YESYESYES OFC I’M MAKING THIS ANON, I HAVE BEEN WAITINGGGG FOR SOMEONE TO REQ THIS (I usually have no motivation if ppl don’t ask for them) 🥹

I LOVE LLOYD SM ☹️ @mythology4life YOU ARE SO REAL FOR THAT, I READ EVERY LLOYD FIC I COULD FIND I SWEAR 😭

anyways, here you go! hope the two of you and anyone else reading enjoys!<33

☆ omg he’s the absolute cutest :((( (you can probably tell he’s basically my fav by now but i love them all, ANYWAYS)

☆ i feel like lloyd would be really shy and nervous at the beginning

☆ would try really hard to make the relationship work out bc it’s his first time and he had no idea what he’s supposed to be doing

☆ especially after harumi.. ahem.. happened, just give him some time to heal and figure out how a (hopefully) healthy relationship would go

☆ would probably go to kai and/or jay about advice—even nya sometimes (please don’t trust kai with these things, lloyd sksjdjsjs)

☆ would’ve had no idea he was in love with you until the ninjas pointed it out directly

☆ once he starts to get more comfortable with the relationship, he starts let out his more childish side

☆ would absolutely prank you (as a joke obv) just for sillies :p it’s his love language in a way

☆ COMIC STORE AND CANDY STORE DATESJSKJDKW >>>>>>>

☆ would not be a pda or physical affection person in general, but my god he is definitely touch starved, PLEASE HUG HIM :’(( (not before i do/j)

☆ he would be so nervous to initiate hugs or cuddles or anything, just let him know that he can if he wants to and that he doesn’t have to be so nervous ushauhajaijaoa

☆ omg please take care of this poor baby :(( you will have to force him to get sleep (insomniac lloyd is so canon) or take a break

☆ on the more serious side, i think he would rant/vent to you sometimes about stress and his anxiety :((((

☆ back to fluff, he would 100% stare at you. not in a creepy way or anything but he’s just admiring you<33 would sososo have heart eyes for you

☆ unconsciously cuddles you while sleeping, he’s such a cutie :((

☆ first to wake up bc of training and yk

☆ honestly think he would be a nose or cheek kisser (just based on a feeling)

☆ oh yeah, and going back to his love language, he would be a more words of affirmation and/or acts of service type<333

☆ guys i love him sm like i cannot, TREAT HIM WELL BECAUSE HE WILL ABSOLUTELY DO THE SAME!!

[icycoldninja]

Hii I luv your writing and I re read the sometimes j for funzies!! :D

How would the DMC guys react with their partner having anger issues stemming from childhood trauma? They can be working on their temper with the DMC men encouraging hobbies or activities to alleviate stress.

Their childhood could be dysfunctional and now as an adult they have unresolved issues with negative emotions making them frustrated/annoyed/ irritated over small things.

For example the s/o can be minding their own business but one small thing can make them huffy in irritation. They don’t mean to act like that, but it’s like instinct to raise their voice.

Thank you so much! Please enjooooy!

Sparda boys + V x Reader with anger issues headcannons

¤ Dante ¤

-Dante knows what it's like to be angry all the time. Back in his day, he felt the same way, only he hid his anger with jokes and goofiness.

-Helps you calm down whenever you get too riled up, and somehow knows all these different activities to take your mind off things.

-He certainly turns his silliness to the max to cheer you up.

-He understands dysfunctional childhoods like no one else, and makes sure to give you all the comfort, hugs, and cuddles he wished he had when he was in pain.

-He could never get bothered with you, even if you snap at him out of the blue.

-Encourages you to try squeezing stress balls when you start to get upset.

■ Vergil ■

-Vergil is very calm, and retains that cold aloofness even after you blow your top.

-He recommends punching a punching bag to vent your anger.

-Since he has a home gym, access to a punching bag is not that difficult to obtain.

-On rare occasions when you are away from a bag that you can punch, Vergil allows you to punch his palms as hard as you can, since it is unlikely that you would hurt him.

-He's not the best at verbal comfort, but his hugs are warm and strong.

-Will give you food after an outburst because he knows anger makes one hungry, and vice versa.

□ Nero □

-Nero is prone to bursts of rage just like you are.

-Sometimes you get into fights over this very fact.

-Still, Nero knows you are the way you are because you went through some shit, just like he did, and knows not to take anything you do too personally. If only you thought the same.

-Often suggests using exercise to calm down, which results in you guys going for runs or long walks together.

-Will listen if you want to get anything off your chest, but he's not that good at giving advice.

-Remembers that sometimes he wanted hugs when he was angry, so he goes and gives some to you when you're angry. Peak logic.

● V ●

-V is a very calm person, so he handles you with ease.

-A hug from V and a few comforting words are usually all it takes to calm you down, if not completely, then substantially.

-Encouraged you to try making an anger diary, where you write down all the things that make you mad.

-Shadow is surprisingly helpful, too. Who knew petting a fluffy monster would soothe your soul?

-V does get a little hurt by your abrasive comments, but Griffon reminds him you're not you when you're yelling.

-V just tries to be there for you, because while you are very grouchy, you can be sweet and loving, too.

[dronebiscuitbat]

Oil is Thicker Then Blood (Part 46)

He crawled back out of the vent, doing his best to conceal the way fear clung to his casing like a vice, the vile, offending piece of cloth stashed away in his pocket, it felt heavy there, like just having it in his possession was inviting something terrible into his life, he tried his best not to think about it.

“Find anything?” Hal asked, leaning back on the wardrobe, facing away from the ever watchful eyes of the porcelain dolls. They were extra freaky now, amplified the feeling he was having of being watched. His tail twitched, reacting to his inner fears and beginning to coil up, every single sense he had dialed up past eleven to the point he could hear the oil rushing in his bosses tubing with a startling degree of clarity.

Should he say something? He felt as though Doll was exclusively a him problem, something that he alone, or at least him, V, and Uzi should deal with alone. At the same time though, Doll had killed worker drones, many many worker drones, and was a equal threat to those that lived here then she was just to his family. The simple peice of cloth seemed to become heavier, he looked at Hal.

He’d not met him but yesterday, but still felt that he could at least trust the man, he’d defended Uzi, showed concern over both his daughter and himself, but a day wasn’t really enough to truly gauge how someone was, N wasn’t so naive.

“Yeah, I did. But it’s… complicated. Tell you when we get out of here?” He settled on that, he’d tell Hal, maybe more eyes and ears would allow them to find her faster, not giving her a chance to think about going after the people he loved, or anyone for that matter.

Hal immediately looked taken aback, like this wasn’t something he was expecting before he nodded and looked back at the doorway, Mrs. Hopkins still hadn’t arrived to check on them.

“She fell asleep sitting on the couch, what do you wanna tell her?” Hal asked, putting a strong hand on N’s shoulder, N appreciated the gesture and he sighed, turning over his decision in his head,

“I don’t think it would effect Mrs.Hopkins, whoever was up there wasn't here for her.” He said after thinking for a moment, if Doll wanted to harm the old lady… for whatever reason. She'd already be dead, and they would be here for a different reason entirely.

“So, say theres nothing to calm the paranoid old lady, while investigating the vents more closely?” Hal suggested, running a hand through his beard.

“That's lying…”

“That's keeping the peace, N.”

Hal was probably right, as much as N really didn't like it. If this lady was already paranoid, telling her it was justified would probably only double it, and possibly distract other officers by calling in false flags.

“O-okay.” It was more stammered then he'd intended, and Hal nodded, leading him out of the room and into the living room where the old drone was, head resting on the back of the couch, snoring.

Hal cleared his throat to try to wake her up, but if anything it only made her snore louder, Hal sighed, but before he could do anything else, N took over, kneeling in front of where she was on the couch and shaking her gently.

She woke up immediately, startling before quickly realizing who was in front of her, even if for her he looked like a tall blurry white and black blob.

“Oh! Did you find anything?” She asked him and him directly, and he froze for a second, he was terrible at lying, he'd always been terrible at lying, his eye's moved over to Hal, who looked at him expectantly.

“Nope! J-just a colony of robo-roaches, you and your apartment are safe.” He smiled, his eye twitched and he stammered, almost wincing.

Thankfully, she didn't seem to notice, and gave him a small smile.

“Ah, well thank you for checking anyway young man, I appreciate it.” She reached up and pinched his cheek, it didn't hurt, but it did succeed in making him feel leagues worse about lying to her face.

“No p-problem!” He quickly stood up, trying to make as much distance between them as possible as quickly as possible, sweat digitized on his visor as he looked away.

Lying was like a hot-iron on his soul. She'd probably be fine if Doll had already been here, but he didn't know that.

“We'll take our leave now Mrs. Hopkins, take care now.” Hal took over from there, leaving N to stand at attention beside him and begin to zone out.

He thought he'd been dealing with the threat of Doll decently well, but now, with this kind of upset, he had found that he'd simply not been dealing with it at all, putting it in back of his head in favor of anything else.

Why couldn't… why couldn't things just leave him and Uzi alone? Why couldn't he just have this? Domestic Bliss until their cores gave out, and they'd be surrounded by their kids and grandkids, hand in hand as they drifted off together into that sweet nothing.

That… was actually kind of sad to think about, and chances were one of them would probably fall permanently offline before the other, statisticly. But it was still a nice thought, going together.

But no. No they couldn't have that, clearly the universe wouldn't let them.

“N. You alright?” Hal's voice knocked him out of it, and he'd only now realized they were almost back to the office, had he really followed Hal back on autopilot?

“Talk about it in your office?”

“Deal, and I'll get ya a drink, I don't like that look on your face.”

They made their way quickly to Hal's office, and N quickly took note of the space. Many pictures of him and who he presumed was his wife, a redhead with bright, white eyelights. Her hair was braided, and in her arms was a little droneling with florescent pink eyes, he was smiling, but he looked… off.

Aside from the many pictures, there were trophies and medals congratulating the man on jobs well done

“Alright, what cha find that got your tail kinking up like a scorpion?” N blinked before looking back at his tail, it was poised, ready to dart forward at a moments notice.

He took the strip of cloth out of his pocket and handed it off. Hal took it and turned it in his hands, squinting his eyes as he turned a brow up, clearly questioning.

“It's-It belongs to an outfit of a worker drone. Doll.-” He paused, looking for Hal's reaction to his words, the older man remained calm, but his questioning look dissipated at the mention of the drones name. “She caused all those deaths around prom this year, and… she's after V, and my family, specifically.”

“I'm aware of what she's done, I launched a search for her, but we quickly lost the trail.”

“She can teleport, so that's not surprising.”

At that, Hal seemed startled, he opened his mouth, seemed to decide against what he was going to say, before starting again.

“I… didn't know that.”

“We… uh, Uzi, V and I. She was after V, and probably me by extension of… what I am. But Uzi stepped in, She's… a target as well.”

“Does she know about your daughter?”

N gulped, feeling his core shudder at that thought.

“I don't know…”

Hal looked away from him, once again tangling his fingers in beard, When he looked back, N was looking out the door, fist balled, a worried look that Hal recognized sometimes in the mirror.

“Yeah, I'll get some teams to do a through look through the vents.” He said eventually, stepping towards N in a way that both suggested authority and kindness.

“You. Go home.”

“W-what? Did I do something w-wrong?” Immediately N's head snapped back to attention, like a spring that had coiled up too tight.

“No, you've done everything right so far, impressed the hell outta me even. But I'm not gonna make you sit at work and worry till ya scream. Plus, If you all are a target, you should be in our short-range system now, you can call in any time.”

“Thank you. Thank you so much Hal.”

“Still want you in the office tomorrow! Need to talk to ya some more!”

He shouted at N's retreating figure, before he glanced at his old family photo, it took a moment, before he tore his eyes away and sat down at his desk, looking at the scrap of cloth with apprehension.

Next->

[pedrosdameron]

Treat You Right || Joel Miller x f!reader

Description: When you and Joel get into an argument, your first instinct is to shut down and cry. Joel shows you how to come back to life in a very sinful way.

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI! Porn with very little plot, Angst, reader has a bipolar disorder (unspecified), mental health issues talks, mention of medication, reader flinches when he moves once, arguing, hurt/comfort, slight dissociation, established (kind of toxic) relationship, unspecified age gap, unprotected piv (come on, you know the drill), oral m and f receiving, ruined orgasm, multiple orgasms, cumshots, aftercare, comforting!Joel, daddy kink, use of pet names, no use of y/n, reader uses she/her and is afab but has no physical descriptors 

Word count: 2.6k

Recommended song(s): Daddy Issues - The Neighbourhood

Crush - Danny Fischer

I Hope You Understand - Del Water Gap

Still Don’t Know My Name - Labrinth

Note(s): Hi everyone!! I'm so nervous to post this. This is my FIRST Joel x reader fic and one of my first rare attempts at second person, first tense so I'm sorry if there are mistakes. I also rarely write smut! I wrote this as a vent piece and I hope you like it or it can help you. Enjoy and follow my main blog: @delliestattoo

The sound of the rain splattering against your living room window is nothing compared to the harshness of his tone. Joel’s yelling at you, finger raised and pointed with that same, sly smirk on his face; he knows what he’s doing, he’s making you weak.

And not in the good way.

You can feel tears threatening to spill over your waterline, fresh and hot and not at all helpful to the situation. You want to speak, you want to scream, you want to yell right back at him; but you find yourself completely mute, barely even able to process the words he’s throwing at you. He doesn’t get like this often - the first time was when you brought up Sarah the first time, and the only other time was when you threatened to leave him; but those times were both understandable now, sole misunderstandings that you had caused. 

This time, however, was honestly just stupid. You two had been arguing about where to go for dinner, and he called you indecisive, which your brain translated to immature and here you were. 

“J-Joel,” you whisper, though you know he can’t hear you. He’s still shouting, and you know you have to do something. You have to say something. You have to get out of this.

“Joel,” you say again, louder this time, “P-Please -” you stop yourself from continuing, bowing your head with a muffled sigh. You didn’t want to argue anymore, you didn’t want to fight. 

You just wanted him to stop yelling at you.

Silently, the tears begin to fall, and it quickly turns to broken sobbing, a hand covering your mouth to try and stay quiet. Quiet - which is what Joel is now, silent and staring at you while you try to compose yourself. You know he’s hating himself for the screaming, but you know you deserve it, and you think deep down he does, too.

“I’m s-sorry,” you manage to stutter, and you glance up at him, and that’s when you notice Joel has gone not only silent, but also still, his face completely changed from the moment before. You’re puzzled for a moment, unsure of how to proceed, when he walks towards you. 

On instinct, you flinch.

“Joel-?” It’s more of a question than a statement, because now you’re just confused, though your tense body relaxes underneath his touch, his calloused and rough hands reaching for your shoulders, fingers dragging down your arm, and despite being relaxed, you freeze. You don’t know what he’s doing, and all you can do is look up at him with unsure, teary eyes, as a few tears still fall.

“Oh, baby, -” Joel says then, and you blink, mouth suddenly dry with a sense of something else entirely. Suddenly, you’re not crying anymore. 

Everything’s fine. He’s talking to you. He’s looking at you and touching you and he has that sweet, thick southern accent - everything seems okay now; and you know it may only be for a moment, and you know you missed your medication this morning, but it’s okay now.

“Darlin’,” Joel begins, and you know this is about to be good, “Why’s my pretty girl cryin’ like that? Come on now, chin up for me,” he says, and you obey, raising your chin and wiping your tears. You have the sudden urge to call him daddy - the way he’s looking at you, the way he was yelling at you. It fits. It fits so well and so would he. 

“That’s my girl,” Joel praises, and you feel your mood shift, already having gone from upset to nonchalant; but now it’s something different, now it’s a yearning you know only the man in front of you can fulfill. 

“Joel-” you huff, biting your lip. You don’t know what to say to him to make him understand what you need now. 

What if he wasn’t interested? What if he didn’t want you? What if he was just trying to fix what he had started?

“What is it, pretty girl?” he whispers then, and you feel your core burn hot. You want to sit down, but there’s nowhere to go, nowhere but his arms. You feel mute again, silenced, but then Joel rubs your arms again and you’re fully there.

“Need you, daddy,” you mutter, and your pussy throbs with want, with need. You need him to kiss you, to put his mouth on your neck; and you want him to shove you against a wall, throw you around, praise and degrade you at once. He’s staring deep into your eyes, like he’s trying to decide whether he wants to give in, and you open your mouth to say something but…

You’re cut off by movement, his hands falling from your arms down to your hips, and fuck, fuck, you couldn’t take it anymore. 

“Goddamnit, Joel,” you curse, though you’re sure he knows you don’t mean anything by it. You grunt, moving backwards, and pull your blouse over the top of your head with ease. The remainder of your clothing consists of your black biker shorts and a black, lace bra that you know damn well Joel wouldn’t be able to take his eyes - or hands - off of. 

“Goddamn, you,” Joel grunts back, and just like you thought, his hands are immediately on you, fingers laced underneath the hem of your bra like he wants it off already. You smirk. The tears on your face have dried, and you no longer have bloodshot eyes, no, now they’re full of lust and longing that belongs to Joel and Joel only. “Need me already?” you ask teasingly, and you expect him to laugh, play it off like he usually does, but you’re met with a sudden force, throwing you up against the wall just like you had wanted. “Fuck, Joel,” you can’t help but moan, the force making your panties wet, heart skipping beats and core throbbing with a desperate need. “Joel,” you mutter, as you move to wrap your arms around his neck, “Please.”

He seems to understand what you want by the look on your face and the pleading sound to your begs, hands reaching around to undo your bra strap. You don’t have time for that - you move away from his hands, instead your body presses close against his and you can feel his cock hard in his jeans. “I wanna get you off,” you whisper, leaning close to his ear. Your hand moves down to cup his balls underneath the fabric and you give them a gentle squeeze, a gesture that was almost like asking for permission for you. Joel’s breath had already been heavy but now it had picked up, and his fingers were thumbing over your nipples, and you knew that was an okay.

You drop to your knees, not wasting any time with Joel’s belt. He helps you, and before he seems to know it your mouth is on his cock, lips wrapped tastefully around the tip as you bob your head back. His arm is hovering over your head, his hand pressed against the wall as he resists the urge to thrust his cock into your mouth; you know that’s what he’s thinking, because you’ve talked about it. 

And you want him to.

“Come on, daddy, fuck my mouth,” you say, as you pull away for a moment to spit. You take his cock whole, and Joel cries out, hips moving to fuck your mouth. Your eyes roll back in your head, mouth dripping with saliva and pre-cum as he fucks into you. Your panties have to be fucking soaked by now, you’re so needy, you’re grinding down into nothing. There’s no sound in the room except for the wet slapping sounds of Joel’s balls against your cheeks and you don’t mind it one bit, muffled and strangled heavy breaths coming from your end and rough, heavy grunts from Joel’s. 

He’s getting close, you can tell by the way he’s breathing now; you’d been together for so long you had gotten accustomed to every sound. “That’s enough,” you say, voice hoarse now, as you pull away from his cock, which still thrusts towards you even after the loss. He’s not saying anything, and you know he’s pissed, but you know that would just make him fuck you better.

“Come on, daddy,” you murmur, your legs moving to stand, “Come fuck me.”

The two of you manage to make it to the bed, but you don’t manage to make it much farther. Joel’s got his hands on you again, and you can see the remorse from earlier reflected in his eyes, but you see way more lust. He throws you down onto the mattress and you let out a soft sigh, body going pliant. This is what you wanted, what you seemed to have needed. You just needed a man to throw you around and fuck you right. Treat you right.

You don’t bother helping him with your pants. He makes quick work of ripping them off of you, revealing your matching black, lace panties, and the sound he makes upon sight of them is comparable to a wolf’s snarl. 

“Like what you see?” you ask, smirking as you position yourself for missionary - it was your favorite position, your go-to, and if you were being honest, you needed the honest connection right now. You needed to really feel him make love to you.

“‘Course I do, pretty girl,” Joel confirms, pulling his own shirt over his head. He’s completely naked now, and you feel overdressed. You shimmy your hips. “Take ‘em off me, daddy,” you purr, and Joel can’t resist you, diving for your cunt. You scream and fall back, a laugh falling from your lips as he drags your panties down to your ankles and then off fully. You can’t even take a breath before he’s got his mouth on you - and he’s eating you real good, tongue flicking up and down and swirling around your clit in perfect motions. It’s not often he does this, either; Joel never really seems to enjoy it, but right now he’s all in. You’re left wondering if he’s even breathing while his tongue attacks your pussy. Your back arches and you feel an orgasm approaching, and it’s coming up fast, your breathing now labored and your hips bucking up into his mouth for more, more friction, more anything.

You need his cock. You need it deep, nestled inside of you, holding you together.

“J-Joel,” you pant, a hand reaching down for his hair. You try to pull him off of you, but Joel only presses his face deeper into your cunt, leaving you breathless and out of energy. Your core is burning hot, ready to cum, and you need to. You need to release. You need it so bad.

“Fuck, fuck - gonna cum,” you manage to mutter, pulling at his hair again. Joel’s lips wrap around your clit and he sucks, and you scream, your orgasm rippling through you at the speed of lightning. Joel doesn’t pull away, either; he helps you through it, licking your folds gently as you try and breathe, cunt twitching underneath his tongue. You still want his cock, more than anything now, and you feel tears welling up in your eyes again as he continues to stimulate you.

“Joel… p-please,” you whisper pleadingly, with another tug, “Please.” He pulls away then, looking up at you, and you swear you could see the devil in his eyes, he looked that sinful. His hair was messy, his chin dripping with your juices and lips red and puffy. You almost wanted to grab your phone and snap a photo, but you know he’d kill you.

The both of you take a minute to just breathe. Joel reaches to wipe his mouth before kissing you but you stop him and pull him forward anyways, wanting to taste yourself. “Need you to fuck me,” you whisper against his lips, the sickly sweet taste covering your tongue, “Need it, baby. Need you.”

Joel pulls away, only to look you in the eyes. “Need me that bad, darlin’?” 

You nod in desperation. Your eyes are filled with tears. All Joel does is let out a chuckle, and then he pushes you back down into the mattress. “Alright,” he mutters, “be a good girl for me and stay there, alright? Gonna fuck you nice and right,” he says, and you go pliant once again, body completely relaxed on the mattress. Your juices are flowing out of you and soaking the sheets but neither of you seem to care. They can always be washed.

Once you’re fully relaxed and ready, Joel climbs on top of you, and you instantly wrap your arms around him to bring him closer, his cock rubbing against the folds of your cunt. “Fuck,” the both of you say in unison, and then you both laugh a little, too. You’re always glad you can laugh with Joel in moments like these, serious or not. 

“That’s my girl,” Joel praises, his breath coming to a halt as he presses his cock into you slowly. The both of you adjust for a moment, and then you’re grabbing at any part of him you can reach. “Fuck me,” you beg, “Please, Joel. Fuck me.”

He obliges quickly, shifting his weight to his hands to begin thrusting his cock into you. It’s a quick pace, balls slapping against your thighs every other second, and you feel so fucking full. 

“Feels good,” you moan, “Feels - feels f-full, Joel.��

“Yeah? Fuck, darlin’, takin’ my cock so good,” Joel praises in return, and you feel your core start to heat up again and your heart swell. You’re going to cum again, and you’re probably going to do it quickly. 

“Harder,” you huff, fingers digging deep into Joel’s shoulders. He grunts at the pain but says nothing, allowing you to take hold of him. If anything, it spurs him on to fuck you harder. “Harder,” you repeat, throwing your head back, “I’m gonna fuck - I’m gonna fucking cum,” you warn him, moving your hand to reach down and rub at your clit quickly. You swirl your finger around the little sphere and cry out in pleasure, bucking your hips up to meet Joel’s pace. “Fuck, fuck, fuck…” you cry, breathing strangled, and Joel didn’t even have his hands on your throat.

“Yeah? Come on, darlin’,” Joel pants, his own orgasm approaching, though his focus remained on you, “Come for me. Come for me, pretty girl. Come on this fucking cock.”

He doesn’t have to say it twice - only once and you’re crying out again, overwhelming pleasure taking over your whole body. You’re trembling underneath him as you cum, fingers digging deep into his shoulder, so hard it could possibly draw blood; and despite the pain, Joel enjoys it, and it floods his own orgasm through him, streams of his seed spurting into your pussy. You can feel him filling you up and it feels better than anything you could ever imagine, and you’re way too dreary now to care there was no condom.

“Did so good,” Joel praises, as he pulls his cock out of you, and you whine at the sudden loss. You find yourself reaching for him, but he’s already shifting to move off of the bed. “Where - where are you going?” you whisper, sadness taking hold of your voice; was he leaving?

“Nowhere, my sweet girl,” Joel whispers then, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead, “Gonna get a towel, clean you up, ‘n we can lay together. Okay, baby?”

You can feel your eyes closing from exhaustion; between the fight and sex, you were beat. “Okay,” you whisper quietly, “Baby.”

DT: @swiftispunk @gracieispunk @ilyltm @darkroastjoel

[fairuzfan]

How do you not lose your mind talking to these people I spent the better part of an hour trying to convince a liberal that J*e killing Palestinians is bad in and of itself regardless of what Republicans are doing and it was like talking to fucking chat gpt or something. Honestly applaud you for putting up with that shit

Honestly I don't really, I see a couple comments on posts/tweets and then I get frustrated and go and do something else or vent on here lol. But yeah I don't enter talks about genocide Joe irl because the circles I'm in just. Hate him so much we don't even want to think about him. I have friends who talk about their murdered child family members to coworkers and stuff and they say stuff like "I don't like talking about politics" as if my friends aren't grieving and their family members in gaza are nebulous figures that only amount to a "morally imperfect" presidential candidate.

When I complain about these things I'm showing my very real everyday experience interacting with people lol. There is a deep flaw in our moral societal fabric if this is your response to people grieving murdered children. So yeah it's a political complaint but it's also a social one. One of the most enlightening things is you realize no one around you truly cares about you, and its reflected in how people talk about it in our politics. And that is the most jarring thing I've experienced in my life, personally.

[66zl33gr]

It's Not A Phase AU!

aka me and @farbexx's self indulgent highschool AU

-----

TW: This AU includes topics of drug usage and self-harm addictions. The info dump below will not include it, but it is included in AU content. View at your own discretion.

Summary:

The AU follows the Hamilton characters' life in a Polish high (or primary) school (except it's based on our experiences in Polish school so they're all at least a bit alternative queer and mentally unwell suck my balls (/j) )

Alexander Hamilton

Character Info:

The majors might not make sense but I attempted to explain it in English as best as I can.

17 years old, he/him, humanistic subject major.

John Laurens

17 years old, he/him, graphic design/polygraphy specialty major.

Lafayette (im not typing allat we all know his full name)

17 years old, he/him, French-Ukrainian, gastronomic specialty major.

Hercules Mulligan

18 years old, he/him, tailoring specialty major.

Thomas Jefferson

17 years old, he/him, language subject major. Did an exchange year in France.

James Madison

17 years old, he/him, programming specialty major.

Aaron Burr

17 years old, he/him, math-physics subject major.

Angelica Schuyler

18 years old, she/her, math-physics subject major.

Elizabeth Schuyler

17 years old, she/her, education specialty major.

Peggy Schuyler

16 years old, she/her, ad creation specialty major.

Philip Hamilton

9 years old, he/him, no major since he's in primary.

George Washington

47 years old, he/him. He's everyone's PE teacher and everyone but Philip's homeroom teacher. How are they all in the same class despite having different majors? Don't ask me, I don't know. They just are.

Relationships:

Alexander and Thomas are dating, they used to date in secret, firstly because everyone thought they hate each other, then later because they found out people have bets on them and they wanted no one to win.

Maria and Eliza are dating after Alexander introduced them to eachother. (Maria and Alexander never had any romantic connection in this AU, they're just friends that go way back and Alexander introduced Maria to everyone after she began attending the school this AU takes place in.)

Lafayette and Hercules have a bromance that is painful for everyone to watch. Basically just a ton of repressed emotions, kissing the homies goodnight and "no homo".

Aaron is in love with Alexander, it's really onesided. Alexander used to like him, but Aaron never confessed and thus missed his shot. Now he just painfully pines for him and vents everything to Theodosia, who in this AU is his online best friend.

Lafayette and Peggy are best friends. They have a Tiktok account where they go into drugstores and eat the product. It's weirdly famous.

John and Alexander are also best friends, they're literally the "dumb and dumber" trope. They used to date in 5th grade for like 2 weeks and now tease eachother mercilessly about it.

Thomas and James are (again) best friends, with them being the "you have to wear earplugs around him" and "has not spoken more than 3 sentences to anyone but Thomas unprompted" duo. They have gossip sessions together, with Thomas running the school gossip page and James picking up on a lot of gossip since people don't worry about him overhearing "because what's he gonna do?" they have a LOT of gossip.

Everyone else is friends, they're a big friendgroup but they make it work.

Alexander and Philip are brothers. Their parents force Alexander to take Philip everywhere he goes (except when he's hanging with someone one-on-one) so Philip is pretty much incorporsted into the friendgroup.

I might post headcanons about individual people or smaller groups, if you made it this far comment who you'd like to see headcanons about.

[lunatic-pudge]

Engie SFW Alphabet

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This was a little harder to write cause as obsessed with Engie as I am with someone like Sniper. But I know people love Engie and he do be a good boy. Kinda went a little morbid at some parts though so oops.

But this is my last post of the year! Happy New Year everyone! I'm five seconds away from passing tf out :D

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A: Affection (How do they show affection? And how affectionate are they?)

Wholesome baby man Engie loves affection. Like Spy, he is a gentleman so he won't be too overly affectionate with you when in a public setting. If you choose to love all over him in front of people, he'll get flustered but won't stop it. Definitely loves holding hands. It's simple but gets the message across

B: Best Friend (What would they be like a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Top tier bestie. He never looks down on people for being different and he's such a great support system. The friendship was bound to happen when you meet him due to his kind nature. Bonus points if you are into mechanical stuff as well. You two would be sitting together around some blueprints, trying to create new inventions or build something crazy

C: Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

He do be loving some good cuddles. Loves being snuggled up with his partner, just enjoying each other's presence. Likes to be the big spoon. Having his arms wrapped around you, nuzzling up against your neck, enjoying your scent and telling you how much he adores you

D: Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking & cleaning?)

He would like to settle down but kinda feels too old to be settling down. Top tier cooking and amazing at cleaning and organizing. He's the house husband of the mercs, they'd all be nothing without him. But he really is someone worth coming home too. Man's too adorable

E: Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

I'd say he's the most mature about it. He's like Medic where relationships tend to not last long cause of his work and how it tends to be his main focus. He's quick to the point, feeling bad about it but understanding it needs to be done. I'd say it doesn't take him long to recover from it.

F: Fiancé(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Take commitment very seriously. He'd love to be able to get married to the one he considers his soulmate. Engie is someone who'd wait a good few years before considering marriage. He just wants to be sure.

G: Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Definitely the most gentle of all nine mercs. Again, he's a great support system. He's naturally gentle with his pertners, treating them with respect and always trying to be there for them. He's a great person to go to even if you just need to vent. Gives some of the best advice needed

H: Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Loves to give hugs. I'd say he does it often no matter where you are and who's around. He's got them comforting hugs, warm and strong. Man's giving dad vibes off and I'm going with it.

I: I Love You (How fast do they say the L-Word?)

It would take a few months into the relationship for him to say it. He feels he has to say it first since it's the gentlemanly thing to do. He'd wait until you two are all cuddled up for the night before saying it. Absolutely flustered after saying it. Cheeks pink, holding you tighter. Just a cute little moment between the two of you

J: Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

I don't really see Engie as the jealous type. I'll elaborate later but he's someone who has more of a God-complex if anything. Why would you ever wanna settle for less? He knows no one else is on his level and he knows how to treat his partner right. So he never worries about any sort of competiton. But if he were to ever be jealous, he has his ways of taking care of the problem

K: Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Cute and wholesome. Loves to give his partner a kiss on the cheek. It's easy for when you guys are both busy and can't stand and talk for a bit. A quick kiss on the cheek and he's off to do whatever he was doing. God, I can't stop picturing this man as an innocent ball of wholesomeness when he's basically the opposite

L: Little Ones (How are they around kids?)

Man, he's great with kids. Makes a damn good father figure. Is someone who'd would try to get the kiddies into STEM. Teaching them how to build simple things like little homemade rockets. Making sure they eat and are taken care of. He's EVERYONE'S dad

M: Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

He's one of the first mercs up and ready for the day. He'd have breakfast made, a pot of coffee brewed, and in his workshop tinkering with his inventions. His days are always spent in his workshop, he'd have a seat ready for you so you can hang out with him

N: Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Nights are spent trying to get him out of said workshop. He's always couped up in there and loses treack of time. So you'll have to convince him that it's time for bed. He tends to stay on the workshop til he's finished with whatever project he's working on, it's a bad habit of his

O: Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait awhile to reveal things slowly?)

It happens over time, though it doesn't take too long. He likes to tell stories of when he was a child, helping his Father out with building sentries.

P: Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Engie's someone who takes a lot to anger, though he has his moments. The quickest way to anger him is by messing with his stuff. He can't stand when Scout comes into his workshop, looking for something, and then trashes the workshop. He makes Scout clean it up each time while making snide remarks at the youngster

Q: Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every detail in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

You take one look at this man and tell me. This man has, what, like 11 PHDs. Of course he's got a damn good memory. He's got the memory of an elephant, never forgets anything. If he were to not remeber something, it's cause he learned the info when he was drunk. Good luck trying to catch this man lacking cause it almost never happens

R: Remember (What is their favourite moment in your relationship?)

When you two were in his workshop and he was teaching you some of the basics of his inventions. Having you help out a little while he did most of the work. He enjoys spending quality time with his partner. It's the little things that wins his heart over

S: Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

I'd say he's a little more on the protective type. He knows you can take care of yourself but he likes protecting you. It fuels his ego. He'd be such a flustered mess if you protect him. It was something he wasn't expecting so he was thrown so off gaurd. He appreciates it though and make sure to make it up to you for it

T: Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, and everyday tasks?)

He likes to have quiant little dates. A home cooked dinner, watch a movie while cuddled up, just spending time together. When it comes to gifts, he likes to make them. He feels they matter more when they're made by his own hand

U: Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

It's his God-complex. He thinks he's better than everyone and no one comes near his level of intelligence. And, like the other mercs, he's a bit of a psychopath and you know damn well he could make Saw-esque traps to use out on the battlefield or to "take care" of those who hurt his partner

V: Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Meh, he's too busy with other things. He's just not too worried about his looks when he's inventions to work on. There's not much to say on the matter ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

W: Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Meh, he can handle going a while without seeing you. He's use to it. And if the relationship ends, he'll be sad about it for a bit but he'll be fine

X: Xtra (A random headcanon for them)

I really like the idea of Engie being two-faced. Like, he makes himself seem like such a nice guy, but then he's also this cruel, semi-obsessed, deranged man who will gladly make his own Saw traps to torture those who've wronged him or his partner. It makes a good yandere scenario for me

Y: Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

He doesn't like people who think they're better than him. If he were to catch someone messing with his sentries or other inventions, claiming that he did it wrong or they're fixing it, he'd beat them to death with his wrentch. Again, God-complex

Z: Zzz (What is a sleep habit of theirs?)

Sleep? What sleep? Another one with a fucked sleep schedule. He can't help it. He's the type to be like "just one more (insert thing here)" and then all the sudden instead of it being midnight, it's 3pm and he's missed out on a whole night's sleep and gets yelled at by Medic

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[ma1dmer]

League of Legends - Khada Jhin NSFW

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex): he showers you with praise, drags his fingers down your sides and across your skin, murmuring about your beauty and the show you two just put.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s): all of you is perfect to him, he views you as art, he'll help guide your arms over your head as you arch your back for him, fix your hair so it looks just right when you throw your head back, he is absolutely enamored.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person): he’ll always pull out last minute and finish himself on some part of you, his voice strained as he whispers how beautiful you are and how beautiful he could make you look..

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs): he absolutely plans your death, but he has yet to settle in what way to end you, every new idea gets him excited, with every meeting you two have his mind conjures up more images, every gasp and moan makes him wonder how you'll sound letting out your last breath, every stroke of his fingers against skin makes him wish it was a knife, but he holds himself back each time, he needs it to be perfect, something truly spectacular for his one and only.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?): he pays very close attention to the details, he knows what he wants and what works for him and he can easily find what works for you as well, where to put his hands , where to kiss , the right speed , he’ll find out everything that makes you gasp so prettily..

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual): it depends ,he'll move your body until he finds something that works , most of the foreplay for him is running his fingers up and down your body giving soft orders on how to sit ,how to pose, where to place your feet, your hands, your fingers, everything has to be perfect.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc): absolutely not, art is no laughing matter.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.): he is as smooth as they come, has an extensive shaving ritual and he always smells of expensive cologne.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…): you wouldn't call him exactly romantic, although his words may say the opposite there is always an edge to his gifts or his praise, this coldness ,like the tip of a knife slowly gliding up and down your skin waiting to pierce you if you make a wrong move. he'll lavish you with attention ,put you in a pedestal but you'll never be truly comfortable up there. he'll crown you a queen/king but the guillotine will never be truly far away.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon): no, sexual desire, lust, its all beneath him unless its for his art, the beauty of bodies coming together for a private show in which the actors are also the audience.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks): knife play, shibari, nipple play, voyeurism etc.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do): the privacy of your bedroom and nowhere else, being naked is a very vulnerable position to be in and he refuses to be caught like that.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going): anger, frustration is quite a motivator for him, you are not his perfect little art piece at that moment or the object of his affection, just something he can take out his frustration on, and since he can't kill you yet, he'll need for you to be quiet and let him vent a bit.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs): getting actually dirty, so definitely no rolling around on the ground.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc): he is very very skilled with his tongue, and he enjoys tormenting you with it, wether thats burying it deep within you or his husky voice in your ears.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.): slow ,methodical and above all else sensual.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.): no, you can't rush art!

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.): it's usually on a whim where he decides he might want to try something new and he is definitely very good at convincing you to go along with him.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…): one solid round, with all the adjusting he does to you and the long foreplay, it's more than sufficient.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?): he has a few knick knacks he enjoys using on you, silk ropes and blindfolds and intricate knives for example.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease): he loves nothing more than to have you tearing up in frustration, so helpless ,so vulnerable ,so beautiful and its all just for him to enjoy and swallow up.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make): he is quiet ,whispering his thoughts in your ear as he makes you squirm, his voice getting more and more strained until he finally climaxes with a stuttering breath and a thank you pressed to your lips.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice): i can definitely see him as the type who’d love picking out things for you to wear, clothes, jewelry, makeup. he’ll help lace you up, his fingers gently tracing down your body, help you apply lipstick his gaze locked intently to your lips, or kiss the inside of your wrist after dabbing some perfume on it.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words): a very average size but very very pretty.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?): he tries to keep his thoughts of you to the necessary minimum, only letting his mind go wild when he knows he'll be visiting you that night.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards): can't see Jhin as staying long enough to sleep next to someone , he'll wait for you to fall asleep, watch you for a bit and then quietly slip away with a silent promise to be back