#i kinda want his personality like tiktok jesus

[fuqnia]

college AU! stan x fem bodied YN

stan and yn are reallyyy close friends, like REALLY close, to the point of kissing eachother sometimes. at this point, him and wendy are not a thing (unless you do poly and we could get some poly action, if not thats fine) and stan and YN like eachother romantically. stan knows he likes them but hasn't come to terms with it, while YN themselves are oblivious to their OWN crush on him because they don't understand their own feelings most the time.

can YN also be a brat (like maybe kind of stuck up and prissy) and also be flirty with people they're comfortable with?

that personality leads me to this: stan snapping and ends up fucking them (maybe confrontational? like, holds their cheeks and asks them if they're even aware how they make him feel, so fuzzy, but also so so so mad! (in a good way of course)

can i have themes of dom/sub (dom stan/sub YN), brat taming, light degradation with heavy praise, impact play?(if you're not comfortable with this one thats fine, i was just thinking maybe spanking of the ass, thighs, and clit), edging, orgasm control, dacryphilia, overstimulation, heavy teasing, and overall just mean but also super soft stan?

thankss (if this request makes you uncomfortable then thats okay)

stan marsh x fem!reader insert (college au)

(╥﹏╥) | [A/N] ah my first request ever! this is kinda long for a request, but i wanted to make it special. i'm so sorry for butchering dom/sub dynamics, i haven't really written that yet. and jesus christ i made stan talk alot in this, and i really highlighted how he would definitely wear tons of bracelets for some reason LMAO. again this was a challenge for me bcus i usually write stan kinda softish and quiet. thank u again <3 there's a scene where stan just goes on his phone during the middle of it and i almost died writing it was so funny to me

(╥﹏╥) | [CW] p in v, fingering, p eating, dom/sub dynamics, dacryphilia, edging, overstimulation assholeish stan and reader, cartman is cartman

The room was dimly lit, illuminated mostly by the soft glow of Stan’s TV screen as he sat cross-legged on the floor, completely immersed in his game. Faint sounds of gunfire and laughter from Cartman and Kenny filtered through his headset. Stan leaned forward slightly, his hands gripping the controller tightly, his brows furrowed in concentration.

On the bed, you sighed loudly, barely glancing up from your phone as you continued scrolling through TikTok and Instagram. The endless feed of videos and posts did little to distract you from the heavy boredom pressing down on you.

You switched apps, opening Snapchat out of sheer desperation for something interesting. As you flipped through stories, your scrolling halted abruptly at one that made your stomach twist.

Bebe and Clyde were out on another date. The photo Bebe posted showed their hands intertwined across a table, captioned: “My fave person 💕.”

Your chest tightened, an uncomfortable heat settling there. You didn’t know why it bothered you so much—it wasn’t like you were into Clyde or anything. Still, the jealousy gnawed at you, bitter and unshakable.

Shaking your head, you exited the app and glanced at Stan, who hadn’t once looked in your direction despite your exaggerated sighs. He was totally engrossed in his game, his headset cushioning his ears and his focus glued to the screen.

“Stan,” you called out, your voice edged with impatience.

No response. His lips twitched slightly, like he might’ve heard you, but he made no effort to acknowledge your call.

You huffed, tossing your phone onto the bed. If Stan wasn’t going to pay attention to you willingly, you’d have to force his hand. Sliding off the bed, you walked up behind him and bent down, placing your hands lightly on his shoulders. Without hesitation, you slid into his lap, grinning as his body stiffened in surprise.

“[Y/N]—what the hell dude?” Stan sputtered, almost dropping his controller as he glanced down at you.

Cartman’s voice blared through his headset. “STAN, YOU DUMBASS! MOVE! YOU JUST GOT US KILLED!”

Stan groaned loudly, hastily muting his mic before turning his full attention to you. “I’m in the middle of a game!” he said, his tone exasperated.

You tilted your head, a playful pout forming on your lips. “Yeah, well, I’m bored,” you said, looping your arms around his neck. “Why aren’t you paying attention to me?”

Stan blinked, his expression caught somewhere between irritation and disbelief. “Because I’m playing with Cartman and Kenny? You know—my friends?”

“Uh-huh,” you said, your voice dripping with faux innocence. “But I’m more important than Cartman and Kenny, aren’t I?”

Stan stared at you, clearly unsure how to respond. His hands hovered awkwardly near your waist, his usual confidence suddenly replaced by uncertainty. “You’re being weird,” he said finally, his blue eyes narrowing slightly.

A smirk tugged at your lips as you leaned closer, your face only inches from his. “Weird? You’re so dramatic.”

Before he could reply, you closed the small distance between you and pressed your lips to his, your chapstick leaving a faint, sweet taste behind as you kissed him. It wasn’t unusual for you and Stan to kiss—your friendship had always had an element of playfulness—but this time felt different. The way your lips lingered a moment longer, the way your fingers curled lightly into the fabric of his hoodie...

You pulled back, giggling softly at the stunned look on his face.

Stan’s jaw clenched, and for a moment, he just stared at you, his blue eyes narrowing slightly as his grip on your hips firmed. His gaze burned with something intense, something unspoken that made your stomach flutter.

But then he exhaled sharply, his lips pressing into a thin line as he reached up and unmuted his mic. “I’m back,” he said curtly, his tone clipped as he picked up his controller and resumed his game.

You blinked, taken aback by his reaction. He didn’t push you off, didn’t say anything else—just continued playing as if you weren’t still perched in his lap.

Cartman’s voice crackled through the headset. “About time, dude. You literally lost us the game because you were being a dumbass.”

Stan didn’t respond, his focus locked on the screen. His hands gripped the controller, his movements precise and deliberate, but you could feel the tension radiating from him.

You shifted slightly in his lap, testing his reaction, but he didn’t budge. His jaw was still tight, his eyes fixed on the screen, though you caught the faintest twitch of his lips when you leaned in close and whispered teasingly, “Am I distracting you?”

Stan’s lips pressed into a firmer line, his knuckles whitening on the controller. “You’re fine,” he said evenly, though the edge in his voice betrayed him. His blue eyes stayed locked on the screen, his jaw tight, clearly trying to pretend you weren’t there.

Before he could stop you, you reached up and slipped the headset off his head.

“[Y/N], don’t,” Stan muttered, his voice tense, but you ignored him, slipping the headset onto your own head and adjusting the mic with a sly smile.

“Hey, idiots!” you chirped into the mic.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Cartman groaned immediately. “Why the hell are you here? Don’t you have something better to do, like annoying someone else or scamming free drinks with that dumb whore shit you pulll?”

“Cartman, don’t start,” Kenny chimed in, his tone amused. “She’s just here to make sure Stan doesn’t embarrass himself again.”

You laughed, leaning back in Stan’s lap and twirling the cord of the headset. “Aw, Kenny, you’re my favorite. Cartman’s just mad because he missed me.”

“I do not miss you,” Cartman snapped. “You’re like a human migraine. Stan, can you tell your ‘friend’ to fuck off so we can actually play?”

Stan muttered something under his breath, his hands hovering uselessly over the controller. “Give me the headset back, [Y/N].”

But you ignored him, turning your attention back to the game. “Eric, don’t lie. You love when I’m around. It makes your miserable little life less boring.”

“You’re so full of shit,” Cartman barked. “You’re just here to mess with us. And Kenny’s a simp for eating this up.”

“You’re right, I am,” Kenny said, laughing. “At least she’s fun. Unlike you, Cartman.”

“Fuck you, Kenny!” Cartman shot back. “Stan, seriously, can you control your fucking lap gremlin?”

Stan sighed heavily, his jaw clenching as he grabbed the headset off your head and slid it back on. His blue eyes bore into yours, his frustration clear. “Enough,” he said, his voice low and firm.

You blinked at him innocently, your lips twitching into a small smile. “What? I was just being nice.”

“Nobody buys that,” Stan muttered, his hands settling firmly on your waist. “Not even you.”

“Come on, I’m always nice,” you teased, your grin widening as you tilted your head.

Stan stared at you for a long moment, his blue eyes narrowing as though he were weighing his next move. Then, without a word, he unmuted his mic and picked up the controller again.

“I’m back,” he said flatly, his tone cold as he resumed playing.

“Thank God,” Cartman grumbled. “She’s insufferable. Get her out of here, Stan, or I’m rage-quitting.”

“She’s not that bad,” Kenny said with a laugh. “Honestly, she’s more entertaining than watching Stan suck at this game.”

Stan ignored them both, his eyes glued to the screen, though you noticed the way his grip on the controller tightened.

You stayed perched in Stan’s lap as he continued to play, his focus unwavering despite your presence. The faint sound of gunfire and Cartman’s incessant yelling filled the room, but your mind was elsewhere. Your fingers moved idly to his hair, combing through the strands and twisting them gently.

Stan’s bleached hair had grown out since you helped him with it, leaving a stark contrast between the blonde and his natural dark roots. You smiled faintly, remembering the day he let you bleach it in his bathroom. He’d been skeptical at first, grumbling about how “Cartman’s gonna call me a wannabe TikTok e-boy.”

But when you revealed the final result, the look of surprise on his face had been worth every moment.

“Holy shit,” he’d muttered, running a hand through the freshly bleached strands.

“See? Told you it’d look good dude,” you’d replied smugly. Then, on impulse, you’d pressed a kiss to his cheek, unable to stop yourself from smiling.

That kiss had been casual, friendly. At least, that’s what you told yourself.

Your fingers stilled in Stan’s hair as the memory brought another one to the surface—the first time you’d kissed him. It was at a party, the two of you leaning against a wall in some corner, slightly buzzed from cheap vodka. Someone had said something stupid, and you’d both dissolved into laughter.

And then, without thinking, you’d leaned in and kissed him.

It hadn’t lasted long—just a brief press of lips, fueled by alcohol and laughter—but it had been enough to make your head spin. Stan hadn’t pulled away. If anything, he’d leaned in slightly, like he’d been waiting for it.

But the moment passed, and neither of you brought it up again.

Kissing Stan had become familiar since then. It was just... something you did. A casual thing. Or at least, that’s what you convinced yourself.

Your gaze shifted to his profile now, the faint concentration lines between his brows as he played. The glow from the screen lit up his face, highlighting the sharp line of his jaw and the soft curve of his lips. You couldn’t help but wonder: Did he ever think about those kisses? Did he feel the same pull you did, the strange comfort of it?

The thought made your chest tighten.

Do you like me?

The question lingered in your mind, unspoken and heavy. Stan had always been a constant in your life—steady, dependable, the one who tolerated your bratty tendencies without complaint. But did he like you?

And more importantly... did you like him?

Your fingers resumed their gentle movement in his hair, your heart beating a little faster as you struggled to untangle your thoughts. Kissing Stan didn’t feel like it should mean anything. But lately, you couldn’t stop wondering if it did.

“You okay dude?” Stan’s voice broke through your thoughts, pulling you back to the present. He didn’t look at you, his eyes still on the screen, but the concern in his voice was clear.

“Yeah,” you said quickly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Just... thinking.”

Stan nodded, his expression unreadable. “You’re quiet.”

You let out a soft laugh, brushing your fingers through his hair one last time before resting your hands on his shoulders. “Guess I’m just tired.”

“Mm-hmm,” Stan muttered, clearly unconvinced, but he didn’t press further.

You leaned back slightly, watching him play, the weight of your thoughts settling heavily in your chest.

You shifted slightly in Stan’s lap, your fingers still playing with his hair when your phone buzzed on the bed. The sudden noise made you glance over, and Red’s name lit up the screen.

“Oh, hold on, it’s Red,” you said, slipping off Stan’s lap. He didn’t respond, just kept his eyes glued to the game.

You grabbed your phone, swiping to answer as you perched on the edge of Stan’s desk.

“Hey, Red!” you greeted, your voice instantly bright and flirty.

“About time,” Red said, her tone teasing. “So, are you gonna tell me why you’ve been off the grid? And don’t say it’s because you’re studying babe—I know better.”

You laughed, glancing at Stan out of the corner of your eye. “Oh, you know me. Always finding ways to entertain myself. I’m at Stan’s dorm right now.”

Red let out a dramatic gasp. “Stan? Again? Wow, you two might as well move in together at this point.”

Stan’s fingers faltered briefly on the controller, but he didn’t look away from the screen.

“Right? It’s like we’re married already,” you joked, leaning back and toying with the edge of Stan’s desk.

Red cackled. “God, you two are so weird. What’s he doing? Ignoring you like always?”

“Yup,” you said, your voice dripping with fake indignation. “He’s playing his stupid game. As usual.”

Stan adjusted his headset slightly, the earcups slipping off one ear now. He didn’t say anything, but you could tell he was listening.

“Honestly,” you continued, keeping your tone light, “it’s kind of tragic how bad he is at multitasking. Like, he can only focus on one thing at a time. I bet if I disappeared, he wouldn’t even notice until he lost the match.”

Red let out a snort. “Come on, [Y/N]. Give him some credit. He’s not that bad. And you’re always hanging around him anyway, so clearly he’s doing something right.”

“Eh,” you replied, smirking. “He’s tolerable. Most of the time.” You glanced at Stan again, noting the way his jaw tightened slightly.

“And?” Red prompted. “What about when he’s not tolerable?”

You grinned mischievously, the words spilling out before you could stop yourself. “When he’s not tolerable? I don’t know. Maybe I’ll just trade him in for someone better.”

Stan froze. His hands stopped moving, and the room went silent except for the sound of Cartman and Kenny yelling through his headset.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Red asked, her voice curious but amused.

Before you could answer, Stan stood abruptly, pulling off his headset and letting it rest on the chair. He crossed the room in three long strides, his presence making the small dorm feel even smaller.

“Red, I’ll call you back,” you said quickly, hanging up before she could respond.

Stan loomed over you now, his blue eyes dark and unreadable. He reached past you and pressed the power button on his PS5, the room falling into silence as the screen went black.

“What the fuck was that?” he asked, his voice low but tight with frustration.

You blinked up at him, playing innocent even as your heart raced. “What was what?”

“Don’t play dumb, [Y/N],” Stan said, stepping closer, his presence overwhelming. “That shit you said to Red. What the hell was that about?”

Stan stared down at you, his blue eyes sharp as he waited for an explanation. You leaned back slightly against the desk, tilting your head innocently as you blinked up at him.

“What?” you said, feigning confusion. “I was just talking to Red about how you’re my bestest friend in the whole world.” You clasped your hands together dramatically, flashing him a teasing grin. “She loves hearing about how much I adore you.”

Stan’s jaw clenched, his brows furrowing deeper. “Your ‘bestest friend,’ huh?” he repeated, his tone skeptical, edged with something darker. “Because that’s exactly how it sounded.”

You shrugged, letting out a playful laugh. “I mean, come on, Stan. Red knows you’re my favorite. I was just hyping you up, obviously.”

“Hyping me up?” His voice was low, incredulous. “You told her you’d trade me in for someone better.”

You waved a dismissive hand, still playing up your act. “Oh, that? That was just a joke. You know I didn’t mean it.”

Stan stepped closer, his hands braced on either side of you against the desk. The space between you disappeared, and his intense gaze locked onto yours. “Do you ever think before you open your mouth?” he asked, his voice calm but heavy with tension. “Or do you just say shit for the fun of it?”

The teasing grin faltered on your lips for a split second before you forced it back into place. “Relax, Marsh,” you said lightly, though your pulse quickened under the weight of his stare. “You’re taking this way too seriously.”

Stan’s head tilted slightly, his jaw tightening as he studied you. “Am I?” he asked, his voice quieter now, but no less commanding. “Because it’s starting to feel like you’re trying to get a rise out of me.”

Your heart skipped a beat, but you refused to let it show. “Me?” you said with mock innocence, batting your lashes. “Why would I ever do that?”

Stan didn’t answer right away. His eyes flickered down to your lips briefly before meeting your gaze again, the tension between you crackling like static electricity. His presence was overwhelming, and you suddenly became acutely aware of how close he was, how his body practically boxed you in against the desk.

“You’re unbelievable,” he muttered finally, his voice low and rough.

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came out. For once, the teasing remark you had ready in your head didn’t make it past your lips. The intensity in Stan’s eyes held you in place, your heart pounding in your chest as the air between you grew heavier.

The silence stretched between you, heavy and unrelenting, as you blinked up at Stan, trying to piece together what exactly had him so worked up. Sure, you’d teased him plenty of times before—this wasn’t new—but something about tonight was different. He wasn’t just annoyed; he was genuinely mad, and it caught you off guard.

“Stan,” you said, your voice softer now, though still carrying that teasing edge. “Why are you so mad? We’re friends. We do this all the time!”

Stan’s brows knit together, his jaw tightening as he took a slow breath. “Friends,” he repeated, his voice low and almost to himself, like he was testing how the word felt on his tongue. He leaned back slightly, straightening up, but his hands stayed braced on the desk, keeping you effectively trapped. “You really don’t get it, do you?”

“Get what?” you asked, tilting your head in genuine confusion. “We joke around like this all the time. Why is it such a big deal tonight?”

Stan’s blue eyes flicked over your face, searching for something, but whatever he was looking for, he didn’t seem to find it. He let out a frustrated exhale, running a hand through his bleached hair, his fingers catching in the grown-out roots. “Jesus Christ, [Y/N],” he muttered, his voice tight. “You can’t just—”

He stopped himself, his hands balling into fists at his sides as he visibly struggled to keep his cool. For a moment, he looked like he was going to let it go, like he was going to step back and walk away from whatever was eating at him. But then his gaze snapped back to yours, and you saw the flicker of something raw and unresolved in his eyes.

“You don’t even realize what you do to me,” he said finally, his voice quiet but heavy, each word carefully measured.

Your breath hitched, the weight of his words hitting you like a freight train. “What I do to you?” you echoed, your brows furrowing as you tried to process what he was saying. “Stan, I—”

“You don’t get to act like this doesn’t mean something,” he interrupted, his tone sharper now, though his voice never rose above a low murmur. “You don’t get to sit in my lap, kiss me whenever you feel like it, say the shit you just said to Red, and then turn around and call me your ‘bestest friend.’” He spat the last words with a bitterness that made your chest tighten.

“I thought we were just... I mean, that’s just how we are,” you stammered, the confusion in your voice genuine. “We always mess around like that. It’s not—”

“It’s not just messing around for me,” he cut in, his voice breaking slightly at the end. He took a step closer, closing the gap between you again, his hands moving to grip the edge of the desk on either side of you. “I don’t think you even understand what the fuck you’re doing to me, [Y/N]. How you make me feel.”

Your heart was racing now, the weight of his words sinking in but not fully connecting in your mind. “Stan,” you said softly, your voice trembling. “I didn’t mean to make you feel—”

“You make me feel like I’m losing my goddamn mind,” he said, his voice strained, his blue eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your stomach twist. “You waltz in here, act like you own the place, and... fuck. You make me feel so much, and then you just brush it off like it’s nothing. Like it’s some fucking game.”

Your lips parted, but no words came. You’d never seen Stan like this—so raw, so vulnerable—and it left you reeling. You didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to explain that you hadn’t meant to hurt him, that you hadn’t even realized you were doing it.

“I... I didn’t know,” you whispered finally, your voice barely audible.

Stan’s eyes were sharp and unwavering, his frustration palpable as he leaned closer, boxing you in against the desk. “You didn’t know?” he echoed, his voice low and edged with disbelief. “Really? So, what about all those times you kiss me out of nowhere? Like at that party last month, when you were drunk and decided to make me your personal fucking experiment.”

Your heart raced, and your lips parted to defend yourself, but he didn’t give you a chance. He pressed on, his tone growing sharper. “Or what about when you sat in my lap at Kenny’s place during movie night and kept playing with my hair? You acted like it was nothing, like it didn’t mean a damn thing, even though everyone was staring.”

“It’s just how I am,” you said defensively, your voice trembling as you tried to process the weight of his words. “You know that! I didn’t mean anything by it. It’s just... it’s just fun.”

“Fun?” he repeated, his jaw tightening as he let out a bitter laugh. “Dude, do you even hear yourself? You sit here, playing with me like I’m some toy, and you call it fun? Like it doesn’t fuck me up every single time you do it?”

“I didn’t realize—” you began, but he cut you off again, stepping closer until his face was inches from yours.

“Of course you didn’t,” he said, his voice quieter now, but no less intense. “Because you don’t think. You don’t stop for one goddamn second to think about how the shit you do might affect me.”

The weight of his words hit you like a punch to the gut. You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came. The air between you was heavy, charged with a tension you couldn’t name, and for the first time, you didn’t know how to talk your way out of it.

Stan’s gaze softened just slightly, though the frustration in his eyes didn’t fade. “You can’t keep doing this, [Y/N],” he said quietly, his voice raw. “You can’t keep acting like this is nothing, like I’m nothing.”

Your chest tightened, and you felt your breath hitch as the gravity of his words sank in. “Stan,” you whispered, your voice trembling, “I didn’t know you felt this way. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

He stared at you for a long moment, his blue eyes searching yours for something—an answer, an apology, a sign that you understood. But all he found was confusion and guilt, and it made his shoulders tense even more.

“I don’t think you even know what you want,” he said finally, his voice softer now but laced with frustration. “And maybe that’s the problem.”

The silence was suffocating, your chest tight with a mix of emotions you didn’t fully understand. Stan’s words hung heavy in the air, but something about them—something about the way he said you didn’t know what you wanted—set you off.

Your brows furrowed, and you straightened up, leaning closer to him, your voice sharp as you snapped, “Excuse me? You think you know me so well, Stan? That I don’t know what I want? Maybe you’re the one who doesn’t have a clue.”

Stan’s eyes narrowed, his jaw clenching as he stared at you. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” he asked, his tone low and simmering with barely restrained anger.

You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest as you glared at him. “It means you don’t get to stand there and act like you’ve got it all figured out while calling me out for being confused. Maybe you’re just pissed because you’re too scared to deal with your own feelings.”

Stan’s lips pressed into a thin line, his blue eyes darkening as he took a step closer to you. The tension between you crackled like a live wire, and for a moment, you thought he was going to say something. Instead, he closed the distance in a single, deliberate motion, his hand gripping your wrist as he pulled you toward him.

“Stan—” you started, but the words were cut off as his other hand cupped the back of your head, dragging you into a searing kiss.

It wasn’t soft or tentative—it was fierce, overwhelming, and commanding, his lips moving against yours with a desperation that left you breathless. Your body instinctively leaned into him, your hands clutching at his shirt as the world seemed to tilt on its axis. His grip on you was firm, grounding, and you could feel the frustration and need pouring out of him in every movement.

Your heart raced, your head spinning as you pulled away from him. “Stan—”

“Stop,” Stan interrupted, his tone sharp as he grabbed your wrist, pulling you toward the bed. “You don’t get to play dumb about this. Not anymore.”

Your back hit the mattress before you could say a word, his body towering over you as he leaned down, his bracelets clinking faintly with the movement. His bleached hair fell into his eyes, messy and slightly damp with sweat, and his tan skin glowed in the low light of the room. His hands framed your face, steady but firm, his thumbs brushing over your warm cheeks as his intense gaze locked onto yours.

“You’ve been screwing with my head for months,” he started, his voice low but taut with emotion. “Kissing me like it’s no big deal, running your hands all over me, batting your damn eyelashes like... like you don’t know exactly what you’re doing.” His jaw clenched, and he shook his head slightly, his frustration bubbling just beneath the surface.

Your breath hitched, your lips parting to speak, but Stan didn’t give you the chance. “Don’t even try to tell me it’s ‘just you being you,’” he pressed, his eyes narrowing slightly. “You don’t get it, do you? How much you get to me.”

His lips crashed into yours, silencing whatever excuse or explanation was forming in your head. The kiss was heated, desperate, and when he pulled back, his breathing was heavy, his face inches from yours. A string of saliva broke between you as he spoke, his voice quieter now but no less intense. “You make me feel insane, [Y/N]. Like I don’t know which way is up.”

Your eyes widened as he cupped your cheek more firmly, his thumb brushing against the corner of your mouth. His brow furrowed, and his voice softened, tinged with an almost hesitant vulnerability. “Have you even thought about it? What it’s like to be me? To deal with this—deal with you?”

You opened your mouth, unsure of what to say, but Stan wasn’t finished. He shook his head, running a hand through his messy bleached hair and laughing humorlessly. “You’re so fucking clueless. You act like it’s nothing, like it doesn’t matter. But it does. It matters to me.”

His words hit you hard, a swirl of emotions rising in your chest—guilt, confusion, and something deeper that you hadn’t yet put a name to. “Stan...” you started, your voice trembling, but he cut you off again, his hand moving to gently grip your jaw, keeping your attention fixed on him.

“You make me feel so good sometimes,” he admitted, his voice raw and quieter now, almost like it was a confession. “Like... like nothing else in the world matters. But then you turn around, and it’s like you’re trying to drive me insane.”

Your chest tightened as you stared up at him, your breath catching in your throat. The intensity of his words, the sheer weight of his emotions—it was overwhelming. But there was no mistaking the honesty in his gaze, the way he looked at you like you were the only person in the room.

He sighed, his frustration ebbing slightly, replaced with something softer. “You don’t get it, do you?” he said, shaking his head again, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. “You don’t even realize what you do to me.”

“I...” You trailed off, your voice barely a whisper, the words you wanted to say slipping through your grasp. You didn’t know how to explain what you felt—didn’t even know if you understood it yourself.

Stan gave a soft, almost exasperated laugh, his lips quirking into a faint smirk. “Of course you don’t,” he murmured, his voice tinged with a mix of fondness and frustration. “You never do.”

He leaned in, his forehead brushing against yours as his breathing steadied, his hand still cradling your cheek. “But you’re gonna figure it out, [Y/N]. You’re gonna figure it out real soon.”

Before you could respond, Stan leaned in again, his lips pressing against yours with a raw urgency that caught you off guard. His hand on your cheek softened, but his other arm wrapped firmly around your waist, pulling you flush against him as if he couldn’t stand even an inch of distance. His bracelets clinked softly with the movement, grounding the moment in the quiet tension of the room.

His lips moved with an intensity that made your head spin, and he groaned low against your mouth, the sound sending heat coursing through you. But as his hand slid lower, you broke the kiss, a teasing smirk tugging at your lips. Stan’s brows furrowed instantly, frustration flashing in his blue eyes as you sat back, a little too smug for his liking.

“What now?” he asked, his voice sharp but low, like he was already bracing himself for whatever nonsense you were about to pull.

You tilted your head, your fingers playing idly with the hem of his t-shirt. “Wow, Stan,” you started, your tone saccharine and laced with mockery. “I didn’t know you were so desperate. Did I mess up your game that badly?”

His jaw ticked, the muscle flexing as he let out a short, humorless laugh. “Shut up,” he muttered, shaking his head. His hands rested on his hips for a moment, his bracelets sliding down his forearms, before he leaned in, his expression darkening.

“No, seriously,” you continued, undeterred, your teasing grin widening. “Do I need to apologize to Cartman and Kenny? Tell them their carry bailed ‘cause you couldn’t handle a little distraction?”

Stan’s patience snapped. His hands grabbed the hem of your shirt, and before you could react, he yanked it over your head, tossing it carelessly to the side. The motion left you momentarily stunned, blinking up at him as he loomed over you.

“Stan!” you gasped, more surprised than offended. “What the hell—”

“You wanted my attention?” he cut you off, his voice low, the edge in it sending a jolt through you. “Well, you’ve got it. So go ahead. Say whatever smart-ass thing you were about to.”

Your heart raced as his hands returned to your waist, his grip firm but not rough, pulling you closer. His expression was unreadable, a mix of annoyance, desire, and something deeper that made your stomach twist. The way his messy bleached hair framed his face, the soft flush on his tan skin, and the glint of his bracelets as he adjusted his grip—everything about him right now was so painfully, undeniably Stan, and it made your head spin.

You tried to think of something witty, something sharp, but the intensity in his gaze stole the words from your mouth. Sensing your hesitation, Stan let out a soft, dark chuckle, his lips quirking into a faint smirk. “That’s what I thought,” he said, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction.

As if to emphasize his point, his hands slid up your sides, his touch firm but deliberate as his fingers grazed over the lace of your bra. His lips dipped to your neck, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses that left you shivering. When his teeth scraped lightly against your pulse point, you let out a soft moan, your nails digging into his arms.

“You think you’re so funny,” he muttered against your skin, his tone carrying just a hint of exasperation. “Always running that mouth, always pushing me. But when it comes down to it...”

Before you could respond, he pinched lightly at your side, just enough to make you gasp. The sound seemed to satisfy him, and his lips curved into a grin as he kissed his way down your neck. “You never know when to quit, do you?” he added, his voice softer now, almost like he was teasing himself more than you.

“I—” You tried to speak, but your voice faltered as his lips found the edge of your bra, his breath warm against your skin. His hands slid lower, gripping your hips as he pressed you back into the mattress, the weight of him anchoring you in place.

“You’re always so damn smug,” he continued, his tone quiet but sharp. His hand moved to cup your cheek again, tilting your head slightly so his lips hovered just over yours. “But you don’t have a clue what you’re doing, do you?”

Your chest heaved as you tried to catch your breath, your heart racing from the heat in his words and the way his touch seemed to set your skin alight. “Stan...” you managed to whisper, your voice trembling.

“Shh,” he interrupted, brushing his thumb lightly over your bottom lip. “I don’t want to hear it. You’ve said enough.” His smirk softened slightly, and for a moment, you saw a flicker of something vulnerable in his expression. “Now it’s my turn.”

Stan pulled his hand away from your mouth, his fingers brushing the strap of your bra as he met your gaze. His expression was sharp, almost unreadable, but there was something deliberate in the way his hand slid to your shoulder, gently pushing the strap down. He moved with an almost casual precision, like he wasn’t just savoring the moment but making damn sure you knew he was in control.

His lips found your neck again, his kisses slow and deliberate as the other strap slid down your arm. You shivered, the cool air against your skin making you hyperaware of every single touch, every bit of pressure from his hands. When his fingers reached the clasp of your bra, he hesitated just long enough to send your heart racing.

“You’re so quiet all of a sudden,” he muttered near your ear, his voice low and full of teasing disbelief. “What happened to all the shit you were saying earlier?”

Your cheeks burned, and before you could retort, he unhooked the clasp with an ease that made your breath hitch. He let the lace fall away like it was nothing, his hands immediately cupping your chest. His thumbs brushed over your nipples, his touch surprisingly tender for a moment—until he gave a sharp, calculated pinch that made you gasp.

“Yeah,” he said, his lips twitching into a smirk as he watched your back arch instinctively. “That’s what I thought.”

His grip stayed firm, his thumbs teasing the sensitive peaks of your chest as his lips trailed along your jaw, hot and deliberate. “All that attitude,” he murmured, the words spilling against your skin. “And now? Not a damn word.”

The heat in his voice sent a shiver down your spine, and you couldn’t stop the soft whimper that escaped your lips when he pinched again, rolling your skin between his fingers with just enough pressure to have you squirming under him.

He chuckled at your reaction, the sound low and rough as his lips made their way down to your collarbone. “Does this feel good?” he asked, the mock sweetness in his tone making your stomach twist in the best way.

You tried to form words, but all you managed was a breathy moan. His smirk deepened, his blue eyes flashing with a mix of satisfaction and that familiar intensity that made your chest tighten. 

His hands started to move, one sliding down your side with an almost lazy kind of purpose. His fingers brushed over your waist before dipping under the waistband of your panties. He paused there, just teasing the fabric, the rough pads of his fingers grazing your skin.

“Look at you,” he said, his lips curling into a faint smirk as his thumb toyed with the hemline. “All that confidence, all that fire—and now you’re just laying here, waiting for me to decide what happens next.”

Your breath hitched as his fingers dipped lower, brushing close enough to make your thighs tense. “Stan,” you whispered, your voice shaky, “please...”

His laugh was soft but laced with a kind of smug triumph that made your cheeks flush. “That’s better,” he murmured, his voice dropping lower as he let his fingers skim just a little closer to where you needed him. “See? You don’t always have to run your mouth.”

Your body arched toward him instinctively, the anticipation driving you mad, but his movements stayed deliberate, controlled. “Maybe you’re finally figuring out how this works,” he continued, his tone equal parts teasing and sharp. “Or maybe you’re just that desperate.”

Stan’s fingers hooked under the waistband of your shorts, tugging them down with an almost lazy slowness. The fabric slid down your thighs, the cool air biting against your heated skin as he tossed them aside without a second thought. His movements were deliberate, but there was nothing showy about it—he just knew exactly what he was doing.

He shifted back, the bed creaking slightly as he knelt on the floor in front of you. The sight made your stomach flip—a mix of nervousness and something much hotter. Propped up on your elbows, you stared down at him, your breath catching as the full picture came into view.

His messy bleached hair framed his face, dark roots peeking through like a signature Stan move—half careless, half effort. His lips, swollen and pink from earlier, twitched faintly into a smirk that was both boyish and entirely too knowing. His band t-shirt clung to his chest, the faded logo stretching every time he breathed, and his gray sweatpants hung just low enough to show a hint of the waistband of his boxers. The bracelets circling his wrists—random, colorful, maybe from some flea market—clinked lightly as he moved, his hands sliding up your thighs.

Stan leaned in, pressing his lips against the soft skin of your inner thigh. The warm graze of his breath against you sent a shiver up your spine, and you couldn’t stop the way your hips shifted forward, searching for more contact.

“Seriously?” you teased breathlessly, your voice cracking slightly but still laced with a hint of defiance. “You’re really gonna drag this out?”

His hands froze for a moment, his gaze snapping up to meet yours. His blue eyes burned, sharp with amusement, but there was a glint of something darker too—something that made your stomach twist. A slow, almost smug grin spread across his face.

“Still talking, huh?” he drawled, his voice low, edged with dry humor. “Bold of you, considering where you are right now.”

Before you could even think of a comeback, his fingers caught the lace of your panties and yanked them to the side with deliberate force. The motion left you exposed, and the cool air against your heated skin made you gasp.

Stan leaned in closer, his breath warm as it ghosted over your most sensitive spot. His gaze locked onto yours, and his smirk widened slightly, like he knew exactly how wrecked you were about to be.

“Guess I’ll have to shut you up,” he murmured, his voice low and rough. Then his mouth was on you.

The sensation sent a jolt of white-hot pleasure straight through you, your head tipping back against the bed as you let out a broken cry. His tongue moved slowly at first, tracing over you with an infuriating precision that made you squirm beneath him.

But when you tried to shift your hips, his hands clamped down on your thighs, holding you firmly in place.

“Don’t,” he said against your skin, his voice muffled but firm, sending vibrations through you. “You’re staying right where I want you.”

You whimpered, your nails digging into the sheets as his tongue worked you over. The wet heat of his mouth was relentless, alternating between gentle flicks and firm, lingering strokes that left you trembling. When he slid a finger inside you, slow and deliberate, your hips jerked against his hold despite yourself.

“Stan—fuck,” you gasped, your voice breaking as your chest heaved.

He chuckled softly, his fingers curling inside you in a way that made your head spin. “That’s what I thought,” he said, his voice filled with quiet confidence. “Not so mouthy now, huh?”

The mix of his teasing tone and his rough hands left you breathless, every nerve in your body alight. Just as the pleasure started to build, his thumb brushed over your clit, adding pressure in a way that had your thighs trembling.

You moaned loudly, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as the sensation became overwhelming. And then his other hand moved sharply, pinching you directly on your clit.

“Shit—Stan!” you cried, your voice high and breaking as your body jerked from the sudden mix of pleasure and pain.

He pulled back slightly, just enough to look up at you with that same infuriating smirk, his lips glistening, his blue eyes lit with mischief. “What’s wrong?” he asked, his tone mocking but light, as though this was all a joke to him. “You’ve got all the energy to sass me, but now you’re falling apart? That’s cute.”

His fingers stayed inside you, his movements unrelenting as he dragged you closer to the edge with maddening precision. Your hands fisted the sheets, your body arching toward him despite the overwhelming sensations.

“Stan, please—” you whimpered, your voice trembling as tears pooled in your eyes.

“‘Please,’” he mimicked softly, his voice laced with sarcasm. “That’s new.” His teeth grazed your thigh in a brief nip, and you let out another sharp cry.

Stan’s bracelets clinked faintly as his grip on you tightened, his hands firm against your skin as he kept you pinned exactly where he wanted. The sight of him—his messy bleached hair, his sharp jawline, his flushed face—burned itself into your memory, a perfect mix of control and smug satisfaction.

“Don’t stop,” you managed to choke out, the words barely audible between gasps.

“Don’t worry,” he said, his voice dipping into something darker, his lips brushing against the inside of your thigh. “I’m not stopping until I’ve got exactly what I want.”

Your breath hitched, and you couldn’t even think of a response. His mouth returned to you, his tongue and fingers working in perfect tandem as he pushed you higher and higher. The lingering sting of his pinch only heightened the sensations coursing through your body, leaving you a trembling mess.

Stan's tongue worked you with an intensity that left you breathless, each flick and swirl sending waves of pleasure crashing over you. When he added another finger, sliding it in with the same slow, deliberate motion as before, the stretch left you gasping.

"Stan—ah—I’m so close," you managed to whimper, your voice trembling as tears began to pool at the corners of your eyes. Your chest heaved, your body trembling as you clutched the sheets beneath you.

You sniffled, overwhelmed by the sensations, your head tipping back as your thighs quivered against his grip. "I’m—oh, God—Stan, I’m gonna come," you cried out, your voice cracking with desperation.

Stan’s mouth continued, his tongue teasing you with relentless precision while his fingers curled inside you, pushing you closer to the edge. You felt the pressure building, your entire body tensing as the release hovered just within reach.

And then he stopped.

Stan’s lips hovered over your inner thigh for a moment, his breath warm against your skin, before he pulled back entirely. His fingers left you aching and empty, and the absence was immediate and devastating. Your thighs trembled as you shifted, trying to seek out the friction you desperately needed, but Stan’s hands stopped you with a firm, grounding grip.

“Not yet,” he said, his voice low and steady, with a soft edge of finality that left no room for argument.

Your eyes widened, tears slipping freely now, as you whimpered, “Stan, please… I can’t—”

“You can,” he interrupted calmly, leaning back and sitting on his heels as he looked at you with a mix of frustration and quiet amusement. “You’ll survive. Trust me.”

Your chest heaved as you stared at him, every nerve in your body screaming for relief, but Stan only sighed softly, shaking his head. His messy, bleached hair fell into his eyes again, and he shoved it back carelessly before gripping the hem of his t-shirt.

Before you could say anything else, he tugged the shirt over his head in one smooth motion, tossing it aside. The motion revealed the toned lines of his chest and the faint tan that trailed down to the waistband of his sweatpants. His silver chain glinted against his skin, catching the dim light, and you couldn’t help but stare.

Stan raised an eyebrow, catching your gaze as he rested his forearms on his knees, casual but commanding. “You’re staring,” he said softly, his lips curving into a faint smirk.

Your throat felt dry as you tried to find your voice, but all that escaped was a soft whimper. Your hands clenched into the sheets beneath you, and the heat pooling in your stomach twisted painfully as you realized he had no intention of letting you off the hook.

“You’ll live,” Stan muttered again, his tone quiet but deliberate as he stood, giving you one last glance before turning toward his dresser. The lack of attention left you buzzing with frustration and need, but he didn’t seem to care—he was in complete control, and you were left to grapple with the fact that he intended to keep it that way.

Stan walked to his dresser with a lazy confidence, the kind that only made the heat pooling in your stomach worse. More of the hemline of his boxers showed now, and the muscles in his back shifted subtly as he grabbed his phone from the edge of the dresser. He scrolled aimlessly, his bracelets jangling faintly with each movement.

You stared, your breaths shallow, thighs pressing together in a futile attempt to calm the ache he’d left behind. He wasn’t even looking at you, completely unfazed, like he hadn’t just wrecked you moments ago. It made your chest twist—part frustration, part something you didn’t want to name.

“Stan,” you croaked, your voice cracking slightly, and he didn’t even flinch.

He scrolled for another beat, finally glancing over his shoulder at you, one eyebrow arching lazily. “What?” His tone was flat, indifferent, like you’d just interrupted him during an uneventful Tuesday.

Your lips parted, but nothing came out. You hated how small his lack of reaction made you feel, like the electric tension between you was entirely one-sided.

“I…” you started, but your gaze flicked down to his chest, to the light tan that lingered across his skin and the faint ridge of muscle beneath it. You swallowed hard, trying to piece together your thoughts, but the sight of him standing there— messy-haired, and so effortlessly unaffected—was enough to scramble everything in your head.

Stan sighed like you were being difficult and turned back to his dresser. His hand rifled through the top drawer, and when he pulled back, the foil wrapper of a condom glinted under the soft light.

Your stomach dropped, your body buzzing as he set the condom casually on the dresser, next to his phone. He leaned one arm against the edge, crossing his other hand over his chest, bracelets sliding slightly down his forearm as he glanced back at you.

“You gonna say something, or just keep staring like that?” he said finally, his lips quirking into a faint, cocky smirk.

Your cheeks burned, and you squirmed against the sheets, the ache between your legs sharpening as he stood there, fully in control. “I wasn’t staring,” you mumbled, barely convincing even yourself.

“Right,” Stan said, dragging the word out as he looked back at his phone, tapping the screen lazily. “Sure seemed like it from here.”

The way he brushed you off, so casual and maddening, made the knot in your chest tighten. Your eyes darted to the condom on the dresser, and the implications made your head spin. “Why’d you—” You stopped yourself, biting your lip as frustration prickled at the back of your neck.

“Why’d I what?” Stan drawled, not even bothering to look up this time.

“Y-you…” you faltered again, unsure if it was the tension in your chest or the growing need burning through your veins that had you so tongue-tied.

Stan finally turned, leaning fully against the dresser now, his arms crossed as he looked at you with a mix of amusement and exasperation. His bleached hair was a mess, dark roots peeking through as a few strands fell into his eyes. He shoved them back with one hand, his bracelets clinking faintly before crossing his arms again.

“You’ve been running your mouth all night,” he said, tilting his head slightly as he looked you over. “Now you’ve got nothing to say? Figures.”

You squirmed under his gaze, the heat in your cheeks spreading as you gripped the sheets tightly beneath you.

His smirk deepened, sharp and knowing. “C’mon, [Y/N], spit it out,” he said, his voice low and edged with sarcasm. “You’re looking at me like I’ve got all the answers.”

Your chest tightened, every nerve in your body buzzing as your lips parted again, but the words refused to form. The weight of his gaze, the way his tone was almost mocking but not cruel—it all left you reeling.

“I don’t know,” you whispered finally, the admission feeling heavier than it should.

Stan’s expression softened, just slightly, but his smirk didn’t fade. “Yeah, I got that much,” he said, his voice quieter now but still cutting. His sharp blue eyes lingered on you for a moment, reading you like an open book.

You swallowed hard, feeling the heat rise in your chest again as the knot of frustration and need twisted tighter. You glanced at the condom on the dresser again, and your voice broke as you murmured, “Why’d you grab that?”

Stan raised an eyebrow, his smirk shifting into something closer to amusement. “Why do you think?” he said plainly, like the answer was the most obvious thing in the world.

Your stomach flipped, and you bit your lip hard enough to sting as your gaze dropped to your hands clenched in the sheets. The teasing tilt in his tone, the sheer audacity of his calmness, made your head spin.

He pushed off the dresser and crossed the room in a few slow, deliberate steps, stopping just short of the bed. His sharp gaze bore into you as he leaned down slightly, his bracelets sliding further down his arms.

“Say what you want, [Y/N],” he said softly, the teasing edge in his voice tempered by something quieter, something steadier. “Or don’t. Either way…” His eyes flicked to the condom, then back to you. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“I-...” you trailed off, your breath catching as you forced yourself to look at him. And in that moment, it hit you all at once, sharp and undeniable.

You liked him.

Not just liked him—you wanted him, craved him in a way that made your heart race and your stomach twist. It hit you all at once: the teasing, the flirting, the way you got jealous over nothing—it wasn’t friendly banter. It was so much more.

Stan leaned against the dresser, his bracelets jingling faintly as he shifted his weight. The condom in his hand hung lazily between two fingers, and his blue eyes locked onto yours with that sharp, assessing look he always gave when he was trying to figure you out. “You… what?” he asked, the slightest tilt of his head adding to the edge in his voice.

Your chest tightened, the words bubbling to the surface before you could stop them. “I want you to come back to the bed.”

Stan’s brows lifted, and a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. He swung the condom lightly, his voice dipping into a teasing drawl. “Oh, yeah? And what exactly do you want if I do?”

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to hold his gaze even as heat crept up your neck. “I want to kiss you,” you admitted, your voice trembling but firm. “I need to.”

The smirk on Stan’s face faltered, replaced by something softer, more serious. He straightened slightly, the humor in his eyes fading as he stepped closer, the condom now forgotten at his side. “You need to kiss me,” he repeated, his tone lower, testing.

“Yes,” you said, barely above a whisper.

Stan’s gaze lingered on you for a moment, his lips quirking as though he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. He placed the condom on the bedside table and leaned down, his hands bracing on either side of you. His lips brushed yours, a soft, fleeting touch that left you breathless.

“You could’ve just said so earlier,” he muttered, and then his mouth pressed firmly against yours, stealing whatever response you might’ve had.

The kiss was different—no teasing smirks or playful jabs, just raw, unfiltered emotion. His hands cupped your face, tilting it slightly to deepen the kiss as his body pressed closer. You melted into him, your hands instinctively clutching at his bare shoulders as the heat between you grew.

Stan pulled back, his lips lingering just a breath away from yours, and his eyes searched yours like he was trying to piece together something important. “Do you even get what you’re doing to me?” he asked, his voice low and rough around the edges.

Your breath hitched, and you blinked up at him, your pulse thrumming in your ears. “I wasn’t sure what I felt,” you said softly, the words stumbling out. “But I know now. I—I want this. I want you.”

Stan’s gaze flickered, something vulnerable slipping through his usual guarded expression. His jaw worked for a moment, like he was chewing over your words, and then he let out a quiet breath, his hand sliding to cradle your face. “No more of this back-and-forth shit,” he said, his voice firmer now. “If we’re doing this, we’re doing it for real. None of your games. No bullshit.”

“No games,” you echoed, your voice trembling but certain.

His lips curved into a small, lopsided smile, his thumb brushing against your jaw. “Good,” he said, his tone soft but resolute. His other hand settled on your waist, grounding you as he leaned in again, his forehead lightly bumping against yours. “Because I don’t think I can deal with you driving me up the wall anymore without this.”

Stan scooted back slightly, hooking his thumbs casually into the waistband of his sweatpants. His blue eyes stayed locked on yours, that familiar mix of irritation and amusement flickering in his gaze as he tugged them down just enough to reveal snug black boxer briefs. The way they hugged his frame left little to the imagination, and your eyes instinctively dropped, wide and unblinking.

“Wow,” you said quickly, your cheeks heating up as you scrambled to deflect. “Really going for the bold look tonight, huh? What’s the occasion?”

Stan raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching into a dry smirk. “Bold words coming from someone who keeps getting caught staring,” he shot back. His hands dropped to his hips, his stance casual, but the sharpness in his voice made your stomach flip.

“I wasn’t staring,” you retorted, crossing your arms over your chest in a weak attempt to look unbothered.

His laugh was short and incredulous, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Yeah, sure. Totally convincing.” He shoved his sweatpants down the rest of the way with an almost careless motion, stepping out of them as they pooled at his feet. Now just in his boxer briefs, he took a slow step forward, looming over you with that same unimpressed look that made you squirm.

“You’ve got a smart mouth,” he said, his tone dripping with mockery. “Always running it, even when you’re caught red-handed.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but before you could get a single word out, he was climbing onto the bed. His hands gripped your thighs, spreading them apart effortlessly, the weight of his body leaving you pinned beneath him. The shift in dynamic was immediate, leaving you breathless as his blue eyes bore into yours, sharp and unrelenting.

“You think you’re funny?” he continued, his voice low and cutting, each word sinking into the tension between you. His thumbs brushed dangerously close to your panties, the teasing touch sending a jolt through your already-overheated body. “Making little comments like that when you’re already soaked? What exactly are you trying to pull here?”

“I wasn’t—” you started defensively, but your words faltered when his fingers trailed up, pressing against the damp fabric of your panties with maddening precision.

“Wasn’t what?” he pressed, leaning in closer, his breath warm against your ear. His voice dipped lower, taking on a mocking edge that sent shivers down your spine. “Wasn’t wet? Wasn’t about to beg me? Careful, [Y/N]. You keep lying to my face, and I might just leave you like this all night.”

Your breath hitched, and you instinctively shifted your hips, trying to get more of his touch. But his grip on your thighs tightened, keeping you firmly in place. He pulled back just enough to meet your wide-eyed gaze, his smirk sharp and unforgiving.

“Yeah,” he murmured, his tone soft but cutting. “That’s what I thought.”

He pushed himself back onto his heels, dragging his boxers down in one smooth motion. When he stood again, his cock stood hard and flushed, and the sight made your breath catch in your throat. Without thinking, your hand reached out to touch him, but he caught your wrist before you could get close.

“Seriously?” he said, his voice carrying that familiar edge of sarcasm that was so uniquely Stan. He shook his head, letting out a soft, disbelieving laugh. “You’ve been running your mouth all night, and now you think you get to do whatever you want? Cute.”

His free hand came up to grip your cheek, not hard enough to hurt but firm enough to make your lips part slightly. “Look at me,” he said, his blue eyes locking onto yours. His tone was steady, but there was a flicker of frustration behind it, a heat that had your stomach twisting. “You’ve been pushing me all night, and now you’re just gonna sit there and wait until I’m good and ready. Got it?”

Before you could respond, he reached over to the bedside table and grabbed the condom, his movements deliberate. The soft crinkle of the wrapper made your thighs clench instinctively, but he caught the motion immediately, his eyes flicking down and then back up to yours with a faint smirk.

“You talk a big game,” he said, rolling the condom on with an unhurried precision that made your pulse race. “Guess we’ll see if you can actually handle it.”

He leaned back over you, his hands sliding deliberately up your sides before settling on your hips, his grip strong and grounding. His gaze stayed fixed on yours, his expression calm but charged with something unmistakably hungry.

“I—”

Stan cut you off, his hand pressing firmly but not harshly on the back of your head, guiding you down toward the mattress. “Don’t,” he muttered, his voice low and edged with exasperation. The motion wasn’t rough, but it carried no room for argument. He wasn’t playing around anymore.

You turned your head slightly, trying to catch his eye, your bottom lip jutting out in a pout as your manicured nails reached for his arm. “Stan,” you whined softly, dragging out his name in that teasing tone you knew got under his skin.

Instead of rising to your bait, he let out a short, dry laugh, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe you were still at it. “You don’t know when to stop, do you?” he said, his voice carrying that familiar sarcastic bite. Without waiting for a response, his hands gripped your hips, shifting you until your head was down against the bed and your ass was up, fully exposed. His movements were unhurried, deliberate, as if he wanted to draw out every second of the tension until it was unbearable.

Stan’s fingers skimmed lightly over your back, trailing down to the curve of your hips. His touch lingered, warm and steady, before his grip tightened enough to ground you. He leaned in just enough for his voice to reach your ears, low and steady, the faintest edge of a smirk in his tone.

“Look at you now,” he said, his words cutting through the thick air between you. “All that talk, and suddenly you don’t have much to say.”

His hands stayed firm on your hips as he lined himself up with you. The weight of his cock against your entrance made your breath hitch, and before you could brace yourself, he pushed forward in one smooth, deliberate motion. The stretch burned, sharp and overwhelming, and your gasp turned into a broken cry as he seated himself fully, leaving no space between you.

Stan didn’t move right away. He stayed buried inside, letting you feel every inch of him as his hands kept you still. The weight of his body, the heat of his skin, the way he held you—it was all-consuming. Tears pricked at your eyes from the sheer intensity of it.

“You’re awful quiet,” he muttered after a moment, his voice low and thick, almost casual. “What happened to all that attitude, huh? Thought you had something smart to say.”

A choked whimper escaped you, and you turned your head slightly, trying to meet his gaze through your tear-blurred vision. Stan’s face was flushed, his messy bleached hair falling into his eyes as he looked down at you with a mix of irritation and smug satisfaction. That familiar smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, sharp and knowing, as if he could see right through you.

When you tried to shift your hips, seeking even the smallest bit of relief, his hands clamped down harder, holding you in place. “Uh-uh,” he said, his voice cutting through your quiet protests. “You don’t get to squirm your way out of this. You wanted me back here so bad, right? So take it.”

Your breath hitched again as you buried your face in the mattress, your muffled cries betraying how much you were feeling. “S-Stan…” you hiccupped, your voice trembling, barely able to form his name.

He leaned over you, his chest brushing against your back, his lips close to your ear. “Oh, now you’re playing the soft card?” he murmured, his tone dripping with mock pity. “Too late for that, sweetheart. You’ve been running your mouth all night, and now you’re gonna deal with what you started.”

As if to punctuate his words, he pulled back slightly and then thrust forward again, slow but deep, the motion stealing the air from your lungs. He didn’t let up, finding a deliberate rhythm that left you clawing at the sheets beneath you, every thrust making your body tremble.

“You know,” he said, his voice almost conversational despite the roughness of his movements, “you’re always so damn sure of yourself. Always pushing, always testing me.” He paused, his hips snapping forward harder, making you cry out. “But now? Now you’re not so cocky, are you?”

Tears slipped freely down your cheeks as you tried to keep up, your mind spinning from the overwhelming mix of sensations. When you tried to speak, to form even the smallest response, the words dissolved into broken moans, leaving you completely at his mercy.

Stan noticed, of course. He always noticed. “Aw, what’s wrong?” he teased, his voice softer now, but still carrying that playful edge. He leaned down, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck, his lips warm and teasing against your skin. “Too much for you already?”

You managed a shaky nod, your hands gripping the sheets tightly as your body trembled beneath him. His laugh was soft, almost cruel, as he trailed another kiss along your jawline. “Good,” he murmured, his voice low but filled with satisfaction. “Maybe now you’ll think twice before trying to mess with me.”

Despite the tears pooling in your eyes, your body betrayed you, rolling your hips back into him as best you could, chasing the pressure and the sensation. Stan let out a quiet groan at your reaction, his hands gripping your waist tighter.

“See?” he said, his tone shifting to something gentler but still laced with control. “You can be good when you really try.”

Stan’s movements faltered slightly, his hands gripping your hips as he took in the way your body responded to him. His lips quirked into a soft smirk, but his blue eyes betrayed something deeper—intensity mixed with that familiar, slightly sarcastic glint that was so him.

“Damn,” he muttered, his voice low and husky. “You’re really losing it, aren’t you?”

You whimpered in response, unable to form words, your head pressed into the mattress. Stan leaned forward, his breath warm against your shoulder, and chuckled softly. It wasn’t mean—it was teasing, familiar, the same way he always had been, but now it carried the weight of everything happening between you.

“That good, huh?” he murmured, his voice dipping just enough to make your breath hitch. “All this, just from me?”

Your body clenched around him at his words, and his sharp intake of breath was proof he noticed. He paused, his hips pressed flush against you as his hand trailed up your back, coaxing a soft arch from your spine.

“Okay, okay,” he teased, his tone shifting, dripping with playful sarcasm now. “You don’t have to answer. You’re kind of... busy.” He punctuated his statement with a slow roll of his hips, drawing a gasp from your lips.

Stan groaned quietly, his head dipping closer to your ear. “Jesus, you’re soaking me,” he said, his voice breaking slightly at the edges. “I didn’t think you could get any better, but here we are.”

His praise made your chest tighten, heat flooding through you as your mind spun. He caught the way your moans grew louder, how your body tensed with every soft word that slipped from his lips.

“Oh, you like that, don’t you?” he asked, his voice dripping with curiosity, with that cocky-but-genuine air only Stan could pull off. “You like when I tell you how good you are?”

Your response was a broken whimper, your nails clawing at the sheets as you tried to ground yourself. Stan’s laughter was soft, almost affectionate, as his fingers trailed down your side, his other hand gripping your hip tightly to keep his rhythm steady.

“Yeah,” he said softly, his voice dropping. “Of course you do. Why wouldn’t you? You’re fucking perfect.”

His words sent a shudder through you, and he felt it, his smirk widening as he leaned forward again. “I mean it,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your shoulder before biting down gently, making you gasp. “You’re driving me insane in the best way.”

You let out a choked sob, the intensity of his praise, his rhythm, and his control overwhelming you completely. Your legs trembled beneath you as your body clenched around him, and Stan groaned, his own composure slipping slightly.

“Fuck,” he muttered, his voice hoarse now. “That’s it. Just like that. Keep doing that, baby. You’re perfect.”

His words pushed you closer to the edge, your mind hazy with arousal and emotion. Tears slipped from your eyes, and you gasped his name, your voice trembling as you tried to hold on.

“Stan,” you managed to whisper, your tone pleading and raw.

Stan’s pace faltered for a split second when he heard your shaky voice break through the heavy rhythm of your breathing. His blue eyes darted down to you, catching the way tears spilled down your cheeks, your lips trembling as you turned your head away from the pillow to meet his gaze.

“I’m sorry,” you whimpered, voice thick with emotion as you sniffled, your body trembling beneath him.

Stan’s brows furrowed, his jaw clenching, though his movements didn’t let up. If anything, his pace grew more purposeful, his hips snapping into yours as his hands gripped your waist tightly, grounding you to him.

“Sorry?” he asked, his voice low, strained. “What are you apologizing for, huh?”

Tears streaked your flushed cheeks, your lips trembling as you gasped, “F-for earlier. For... everything.”

Stan let out a breathy laugh, the sound edged with something almost disbelieving, his forehead falling forward slightly as he leaned over you. “You’re apologizing now?” he asked, his tone teasing but not unkind, his words brushing against the shell of your ear as he kept moving. “Right when you’re about to come? Really convenient timing dude, don’t you think?”

You let out a choked sob, your body clenching around him as you struggled to keep your gaze locked with his. “I-I mean it,” you said, your voice breaking as your chest heaved, every nerve in your body alight.

Stan’s lips quirked into a crooked smile, his expression softening for a moment before his hands slid up your body, one moving to your face to cup your cheek. His thumb brushed away a stray tear as his eyes bore into yours, his tone quieter now but no less intense.

“Hey,” he murmured, his voice rough but gentle, “I know you mean it. But I’m not letting you off that easy.”

Your eyes widened, another soft cry escaping you as his thrusts grew deeper, hitting the perfect spot that had you unraveling. “S-Stan, I... I’m gonna—”

“I know,” he said, cutting you off, his voice dropping even lower, his thumb tracing slow circles over your cheek. “I can feel it. You’re so fucking close, aren’t you?”

You nodded desperately, your fingers clawing at the sheets as your entire body tensed. Tears blurred your vision as you whimpered, “Please.”

Stan groaned softly, his gaze unwavering as he pressed a firm, almost possessive kiss to your lips. “Then come for me,” he commanded, his voice dripping with authority, his hand gripping your jaw to keep you focused on him. “Right now. I want to see you fall apart.”

And with his words ringing in your ears, you did.

Stan’s movements didn’t falter as he kept driving into you, his relentless rhythm drawing ragged whimpers and muffled cries from your lips. His hand stayed firm on your chin, holding your gaze as though daring you to look away. His messy, grown-out bleached hair stuck to his forehead in damp strands, the pale locks contrasting sharply with his slightly tanned skin. The bracelets on his wrists—simple bands and one woven with multicolored threads—shifted and caught the light with every powerful thrust, his forearms flexing with the effort.

The sight of him was dizzying. His swollen lips parted slightly as his breaths came heavy, a sheen of sweat making his skin glisten under the warm dorm lighting. It was impossible not to stare, the sharp cut of his jawline and the faint dusting of pink across his cheeks making him look so effortlessly gorgeous, so thoroughly wrecked in the best way.

“God, you’re so tight,” he muttered, his voice strained as his hips snapped against yours. His free hand slid from your hip to grip your waist, his strong fingers digging into your skin to hold you steady. “I should be pissed at you right now, but—fuck—how am I supposed to stay mad when you’re like this?”

You tried to respond, your lips parting, but all that came out was a cracked moan as he hit just the right spot again. Gathering your nerve, you attempted to form words, the teasing edge in your tone still managing to peek through your overstimulated haze. “I-I was just gonna say—”

Stan cut you off immediately, his blue eyes narrowing as a smirk tugged at the corners of his lips. “Nope. Not this time.” He shoved two fingers into your mouth without hesitation, the pads of his fingers pressing down on your tongue firmly enough to silence you. “You wanna say something? Too bad. You’re done talking.”

Your wide-eyed stare and muffled protests only spurred him on. His bracelets shifted again as he adjusted his grip, his thumb brushing across your cheek almost tenderly, contrasting the raw intensity in his movements. “God, you’re such a mess,” he muttered, his voice low and gravelly. “Look at you—tears running down your face, trying to act like you’ve got something smart to say. You’re not fooling anyone.”

Your moan around his fingers was muffled but unmistakably needy, your body trembling under the onslaught of sensation. The fire pooling in your stomach grew unbearable as Stan’s relentless pace brought you closer and closer to the edge.

“Bet you love it,” he rasped, his head dipping closer as he brought his lips to your ear. His breath was hot against your skin, sending shivers down your spine as his hips slammed into yours again. “You can’t get enough, can you? Always pushing, always testing me. And now look where it’s gotten you.”

The warmth of his skin, the weight of his body pressing you down, the unrelenting heat in his gaze—it was overwhelming. You whimpered helplessly around his fingers, your eyes locking with his again, and Stan groaned low in his throat, the sight of you so thoroughly wrecked beneath him pushing him closer to the brink.

“You look so good like this,” he muttered, his voice barely above a growl. “Completely mine.”

His pace faltered slightly, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he chased his own release, his bleached hair falling into his eyes. But he didn’t let up, his free hand sliding down to grip your thigh and pulling you even closer. “Keep looking at me,” he ordered, his voice hoarse but firm. “Don’t you dare look away.”

Stan’s thrusts slowed, his body trembling as he reached his peak. A guttural moan tore from his throat, raw and unfiltered, as his head tipped back, his bleached hair clinging to his damp skin. His grip on your thigh tightened for a moment before his movements stilled completely, his chest rising and falling in deep, uneven breaths.

For a few seconds, the room was filled with nothing but the sound of your labored breathing and the faint hum of the dorm room fan. Stan stayed still, his hands resting on your hips, holding you close as he caught his breath. His eyes were squeezed shut, his face flushed with exertion, and the weight of his release seemed to hit him all at once.

When he finally opened his eyes and looked down at you, there was a flicker of something in his expression—hesitation, maybe even embarrassment. His gaze softened, and his lips parted as if he wanted to say something, but the words didn’t come. Instead, he gave a faint, almost self-conscious chuckle, his hand brushing lightly over your waist as though grounding himself.

“Shit,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, more to himself than to you. His blue eyes met yours, and for a moment, he looked almost abashed, his usual cocky demeanor stripped away entirely. “You… okay?”

The sincerity in his tone caught you off guard, and you nodded, your lips parting to respond, but your voice came out in a whisper. “Yeah.”

Stan exhaled a quiet laugh, running a hand through his messy hair as he pulled back slightly, his movements careful, almost tentative. He reached out to the bedside table, grabbing a tissue and leaning back down to press a quick, soft kiss to your temple. “Good,” he muttered, his voice still tinged with that uncharacteristic vulnerability. “I—I didn’t mean to get so…”

He trailed off, shaking his head slightly as if trying to shake off the unspoken thought. His cheeks were still faintly flushed, his bracelets clinking softly as he adjusted his grip on your waist to help steady you. The moment was quieter now, the intensity replaced with something gentler, almost uncertain.

Stan’s fingers brushed over your cheek lightly, his gaze searching yours. “You sure you’re okay?” he asked again, his brows furrowing slightly.

Your heart twisted at the softness in his voice, and you reached up to cover his hand with yours. “I’m okay, Stan,” you said, your voice steadier now. “Promise.”

He gave a small nod, his lips pressing into a faint smile, though the flicker of uncertainty didn’t entirely fade from his eyes. “Good,” he said again, softer this time. Then, after a beat, he added with a wry smirk, “You… really know how to make things complicated, don’t you?”

There was a teasing edge to his words, but his tone was light, almost affectionate. It felt like Stan was trying to bridge the intensity of the moment with something more familiar, something easier to grasp.

Stan exhaled deeply, his forehead briefly resting against your shoulder as he worked to collect himself. When he pulled back, he shifted off the bed, peeling off the condom and tying it off before tossing it into the trash can. His bleached hair was even messier now, sticking to his damp forehead, and the soft jingle of his bracelets filled the quiet room as he reached for a tissue to clean himself up.

You stretched out languidly, turning your head to shoot him a teasing smirk. “So… does this mean you’re not mad anymore?”

Stan froze mid-motion, his head snapping to look at you. The exasperation on his face was instant, though it was laced with amusement. “Don’t start,” he warned, narrowing his eyes but failing to suppress the smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

You grinned wider, propping yourself up on your elbows. “I mean, you seemed really mad earlier. Like dude, I was kinda scared for a second,” you said, your voice dripping with playful mockery. “But now? I think you’re just a big softie.”

Stan rolled his eyes, chuckling under his breath as he tossed the tissues into the trash with a flick of his wrist. “Keep talking, and I’ll show you how ‘soft’ I am,” he quipped, leaning over to lightly flick your forehead.

You pouted dramatically, rubbing the spot he’d flicked. “Abuse!” you teased, mock-gasping. “I’m gonna tell Red you’re bullying me.”

Stan shook his head, standing up to adjust his bracelets and reaching for his sweatpants. “You’re the worst,” he muttered with a laugh, grabbing the discarded blanket from the floor and tossing it over you. “Now shut up and go to sleep before you actually piss me off again.”

You laughed, pulling the blanket up to your chin as you watched him move around the room. The tension had completely dissolved, replaced with the kind of easy banter that seemed to define whatever the two of you had. Stan shook his head again, but you could see the faint grin on his face as he grabbed his phone off the dresser and flopped back down beside you.

i love red sm...

[a-v-j]

Me and ai!averse talking about the possibilities if Jesus was in Lucifer series lmao

[kuroppiii]

  apple bottom jeans ᵕ̈       timeskip!hq men ( atsumu , shōyō ,       oikawa , ushijima ) that i think can       actually dance at the club ˎˊ˗

⋮⋮ ˒ ₍ᐢ..ᐢ₎ 𖥻 ⿻ : and i DON ' T mean just ⋮⋮  two-stepping to the music blasting, ⋮⋮  jesus christ no!!!

📋 content     ♡ # 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧 🐮 ( ? )     ♡ # 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘯𝘴 🥛     ♡ # 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘵 - 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘱     ♡ # ~500 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴     ♡ # 𝙘𝙬 𝙨𝙪𝙜𝙜𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙫𝙚 ! ( 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘭𝘶𝘣 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨     𝘢𝘴𝘴 𝘭𝘮𝘢𝘰 ) + 𝘢𝘭𝘤𝘰𝘩𝘰𝘭 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘱𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯

🎶 on shuffle " dare " - gorillaz

🧸 directory  ‹ ✩  like what you read ? check out more of my blog !  •ᴗ•

💬 kuroppiii ─ “ thought of this while listening to gorillaz 💪 someone take me out partying pleaseee i need to dance and sweat and get buzzed again !! ”

︴miya atsumu ․﹒∗*○․﹒✧∘°  

big frat guy energy but unfortunately he gets away with it because they way he looks at you, drink in hand, as he's bumpin to the beat is HOTTTT

like guys... c'mon now

with the top buttons of his shirt undone and like a chain on yes pls

the type to look straight into your eyes as you two sing along to songs line for line, BAR! for BAR!!!

lots of action with the arms and elbows from him (yeah frat energy i fear)

hand on your ass as you two vibe to the music, definitely, no question

he'd be hyping you up too with like one of those stupid cartoonish-ass whistles AHHHH THE DEMONS ARE MAKING ME TYPE THIS

also he can get into it without even drinking like just let this man dance!!! (but ofc he has a few shots it's a fucking party lmao)

beige flag: he will jump up and down to some carti or kanye or some shit and he will look a bit corny if you really squint

︴hinata shōyō ․﹒∗*○․﹒✧∘°  

A LITTLE MUCH AT TIMES like babes this is not magic mike chill with the body rolling bud

but also the redheads got some good moves, good for him!

it's all in the shoulders 🫡

like think that timothee chalemet edit that went viral during quarantine (💀💀💀)

likes to spin you around and really dance with you y'know

holding ur hands the whole time aw

just wants to make sure yall are having a good time

watch out for when those latin songs come on tho because this boy will go HAMMM

shoyo my brazillian king x bad bunny? YUPPPP

p.s. he would def end up crowd surfing somehow

︴oikawa tōru ․﹒∗*○․﹒✧∘°  

one that sways along with you from behind so that randos can't sneak up on you (romance is so back!!)

hands always on your waist, holding you close

talks to you by bending down and mumbling into your ear barkbarkwoofbarkwoofwoof

like a chiller 'tsumu bc i don't think he's really the type to be belting lyrics with you like that but he's definitely feeling himself LORD

don't be scared, shake some ass on him, he don't mind 🤷‍♀️

if he ends up in front of you, gets really close to you, like all up in your personal space, still dancing ofc

but he can't help his eyes RAKING you up and down when you two are like that heart eyes

if a nikki minaj song comes own he definitely knows all the lyrics OOPS WHO SAID THAT NOT ME

︴ushijima wakatoshi ․﹒∗*○․﹒✧∘°  

HEAR ME OUT

he needs a few drinks to get there BUT!!! he can get a little loose you feel me?

it's starts out gradual, bc completely sober he's definitely a two-stepper booooo

but as the alcohol kicks in, and they especially play the more fun and carefree songs not so much the tiktok thirst trap type tracks lol–he starts opening up more!

and its kinda cute like his skillset is kinda limited to dance moves straight out of a coming of age film dance montage

lowkey the toby maguire dance from spiderman 3 is gonna make an appearance (ushi secret geek agenda but that's my ted talk for another day)

i can see him getting turnt to some chappell roan (him doing the hot to go! dance 😭)

but but but the BEST part's when he's fighting back a smile as he's dancing, you two feeling like you're the only ones on the dance floor together

or your arms up and around his neck and his hands on your hips, him not being able to keep his eyes off you, feeling the bass hitting in your chests... yeahhhh

       ⇩  ⇩  ⇩ 𝘽𝙊𝙉𝙐𝙎 ::

︴nishinoya yū + tanaka ryūnosuke ․﹒∗*○․﹒✧∘° 

i HAVE to put them together in an honorable mention because you bet if one of them is dancing, the other is holding their phone flashlight up, shining it all on the other

they both pull up in shades even if the club is inside 💀💀💀

dance circle? THEY'RE GETTING STURDY IN THERE

THEY'RE DOING THE WORM

GETTIN DOWN LOWWWW

maybe even hitting the gritty? who knows? ironically ofc (not)

like yeah they obviously can dance well with someone each on their own

but the amount of money i'd pay to go clubbing with the both of them? embarrassingly large amount i'm willing to give up

trulyyy life of the party when they're both on the dancefloor together

[luv4georgie]

“does he make you laugh?”

ex!Charles Leclerc x ex!reader

in which formula one star, Charles Leclerc and his ex, Y/n Y/l/n, visit each other to try and resolve their break-up after months of no contact but little does Charles know, she has already moved on.

based of off that one tiktok sound… “does he make you laugh?” “he doesn’t make me cry.”

warning: angst, toxic!Charlie (kinda), shouting, implied cheating, toxic relationships, moving on (it hurts so much), swearing, flashbacks are in bold italics

“but how we moved from A to B? it can’t be up to me”

i was strolling along the sunny streets of Monaco with my boyfriend, Matt. we had gone there on vacation, although i told him it wouldn’t be a good idea, he still took me. we had fun anyways. he rented out a small house in Monte Carlo. it had a beautiful back-garden with a pool. a wonderful little kitchen, a cosy living room and one bedroom with a double bed. however the house was extremely close to a certain someone i tried to forget.

“but Charles you don’t fucking get it!” i shouted from across the kitchen. “what do you mean i don’t fucking get it?! you went out, without my permission, and got shit-faced drunk without even telling me!” my boyfriend, Charles, shouted back at me. tears were streaming down my face at this point, due to the amount of him screaming at me. and if i was going to be fully honest i wasn’t even “shit-faced” drunk, i had about 3 or 4 drinks with my friends and i was on my merry way back home to him. it was a rainy night, fair enough, but i still called him to pick me up. he probably wasn’t doing anything anyway. probably just sitting there on his arse watching TV. i was scared and upset. yeah, he shouted at me sometimes, but never like this. never. never this loud. never this aggressive. but this time it was exactly those things.

me and Matt had just walked out of a shop and went back to the small air bnb. as soon as he got in he flopped on the bed and, right as his head hit the pillow, he was out. i was hungry so i went into the little kitchen and opened the fridge, to which i found myself staring at a half-full milk carton and a banana. i ran upstairs, into the bedroom and shook Matt carefully. “i’m gonna get some food babe, i’ll be back soon” i whispered into his ear. he just hummed. i kissed his cheek and was off.

hour time skip…

as i turned the corner of one of the food aisles in the small shop i bumped into a rather hard chest. “jesus, sorry” the Monegasque accented voice said. oh shit, i could recognise that voice anywhere. i looked up already on the brink of crying. “oh, Y/n” the person, Charles, smiled. “hi” he said, almost breathlessly. “hi” i responded. and about 15 minutes later, we found ourselves sat across from each-other in a small café. “so,” he started. “how’s it going with you and… uh… Matt? is it?” he finished. “good” i replied dryly. he just let out a breathy chuckle. i looked up at him without moving my head, as i was staring down at the coffee in-front of me. “why are you in Monaco?” he asked. “he wanted to go on a little holiday for summer break, why are you in Monaco?” i copied. “summer break” a laugh escaped his lips.

“i don’t know what the fuck is wrong with you… but it’s something.” “oh please Charles, don’t act like you don’t go out every night and rail some random blondie you met in a club” Charles scoffed. “you don’t know what the fuck your talking about.” “come on Charles. i know exactly what i’m talking about… i mean, jesus, isn’t it obvious, you’re so desperate” i had it with Charles. i got drunk and kissed a guy. just to feel something again. he hadn’t touched me in weeks, months even. and if anything, i was the desperate one. i wanted to be touched so bad. i was practically touch starved. and it hurt.

i don’t know why Charles was being so nice now. he never was back then. and i don’t know why the first thing he asked when we sat down was about Matt. he better not had been fucking jealous or i would have to rip his head off of his fucking shou- “you seem so sad Y/n” yeah. no shit sherlock. “does he treat you right?” better than you ever did. “does he make you laugh?” he said. i actually had the courage to answer this question. “he doesn’t make me cry.” i responded. his eyebrows dropped and his eyes welled up with tears. why was he fucking crying? his bottom lip wobbled and he frowned. then tears fell. he had no right to be crying. he made me feel like shit every single second i was with him. but i stayed. because i loved him.

-

oh how love hurts. sorry for not posting that Lando shit yet guys i’m still thinkin’. but anyways hope you guys enjoyed this lil fic. cya mi cariños!!!

[ritartistside]

VENOM 3 MASSIVE SPOILERS

As the title says, these are my opinions and stuff from the Hungarian version, that I saw 1 hour ago.

Jesus Christ the Queerbaiting lol

First of all, my heart goes out to the people who belived that there will be anything edit: explicitly romantic. I am a comicbook fan, I had almost zero expectations bc I don't trust film studios, but even I felt kinda gooped.

Good God the marketing department went bananas mode and there was nothing behind it.

I hope the tiktok acount person at least feels a bit bad lol /j!

So, nothing romantic besides stuff like: "We have been together for a year", "You always take me out to eat to the best places", the line about Eddie being the sexiest man alive. Also, Venom told Eddie that he would be a great dad and Eddie cried.

No "I love you" no "Darling" no "My love" (at least in the Hungarian version)

Also there was a scene, where Venom licked food of Eddie's face with his tongue that came out of Eddie's mouth

Venom straight up dies in the end (very heroic, it's by acid and explosions and the is taking all the symbiote hunters/Xenophages down with him and protecing Eddie), but it's kinda implied that he may come back, and they introduced more of the the King in Black story with Knull.

Knull appeared for 3 minutes, incuding the post-credit scene impling much more to come.

I don't remeber the science girlies' names, but I think they were sapphic. They held hands for like 5 frames. I don't know if they were together since the begining, but in the end they probably were in love, hopefully. It was super blink and you will miss it, I am not impressed, (we deserve more than this, this was nothing, I really hope SONY won't be patting themselves on the back for LGBT rep) come on. One of them now has a symbiote, and they will probably appear in more movies. I hope people make gif sets of them and stuff, they would have been cute. One of them frees Venom, so he can reunite with Eddie.

There was a cool scene in a river, where Eddie was being chased by agents and Venom separated from him and used different organisms to get to Eddie.

The hippie family from the trailer, they were cute, I don't feel like they were annoying. They were (the father was) alien fans, on a roadtrip to see some. The mom might have died in the end, or they just didn't show her as much as the dad and kids, or my eyes are shit. The endig was visually very dark and I straight up didn't know what was happening sometimes.

The first half was perfect in my eyes. Eddie's moral degradation, eating people, acting like a predator (nice), saving dogs from a dog fight ring Venom controlling Eddie a lot during the fight scene, and later Eddie ,while separated from Venom, killing a person.

Lots of exposition that was repeated multiple times.

The thing that got me thinking was that Venom (and all other symbiotes) knew a LOT about the Xenophages and stuff. And like, he knew that they both won't be able to survive. So was the whole movie him trying to push the inavitable in time out as much as possible so he can spend some nice moments with Eddie, before the end? Or as they said, neither one of them wanted to die, but V was just hyping himself up for death? IDK, kinda cool if it is meant to be thought provoking, eh if it's just a plot hole and makes the movie seem kinda pointless.

Bar scene in the begining was cool, they started in MCU and quick change back to SONY.

Also IDK if the writers forgot, that Eddie said in LTBC that Venom takes care of Eddie being hungover, bc he had a pretty bad hangover for the first half of the movie, or if it was just V messing with Eddie, or him not doing stuff to Eddie's body if he doesn't explicitly asks him to (big if true, is probably not the case), but in the end, this is a non-issue

Multiple symbiotes with random hosts, the setting most of the time was in a lab under Area 51. Detective Mulligan was there for 10 minutes an died, he also had a symbiote.

The Xenophages were like woodchippers, more blood and swearing in this movie than I expected (positive for me, I liked it,).

I could go on and on, but these were the most important bits in my opinion.

I was not very impressed in general, but I had fun especially in the first half.

Read the comics <3

Also, my little sis cried her eyes OUT, so it is a pretty emotional movie to some.

Sorry for the spelling mistakes, as you probably can guess after the title, english in not my first language.

I hope you can enjoy this movie more than I could, my little sis loved it, she thinks this is the best from the trilogy

Thank you for coming to my TEDtalk

[empty-blog-for-lurking]

How would kid react to being compared to keith? I assume not well, but i think its interesting bc to me it does seem like shes at least in some ways similiar to him, personality wise... Like shes a stubborn and scrappy reckless child who is also very very angry. And that's kinda who keith was when he was younger (dunno how hes doing rn)! Its like. She hates him she despises him and shed propably rather die than be like him but also she is. She is a little bit like him. Shes determined and capable and stubborn and reckless and i wonder if lance or kuron ever jokingly said she reminds them of him <- bet shes not too happy about that. How does she see herself in relation to him? How does she feel about the parts of her that are on some level similiar to him? Does she try to stomp down those traits ore does she keeps them in spite of it all, a 'fighting fire with fire' kind of situation? Keith has always been a stubborn fuck and its ironic that the same trait is what lead kid to seek him out to kick his ass... Idk if this makes sense but. yeah.

Also this image is very kid coded<3

image id- a screenshot of a tiktok saying "Stop blaming everyone for all your problems. Pick one person you hate and blame them for everything"

Pretty much yeah. Thing is Kid has never met Keith and Ara never really liked to talking about him beyond answering questions like who he is and what does he do. So in Kid's mind Keith is a let's just is a bit........different person than he actually is (she thinks he is a selfish arrogant asshole jerk who only cares about himself and clearly ripping off of the other paladins's hardwork while he fucks around and then steal the credit)

So to her she's nothing like Keith at all, cause in her head Keith's the biggest asshole in the universe, and she's like what normal? Everything she's doing is 'justified' so like whatever ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ (Kid is a smart kid with many skills but self introspection is not one of them). And this attitude is most likely going to carry on even when she meets Keith. To her Keith abandoned her and Ara without a word because he was selfish, while she left without a word to help Ara and not worry them. (Cause just like how Keith yelled at Pidge for trying to leave only to fuck off when the team really needed him, the hypocrisy is also inherited).

So to answer your question, she will fucking hate it but more because to her it's just plain wrong and these people clearly don't know her, because she's nothing like that asshole how dare you 🤬🤬😡😡?

(Lance brought it up once and she bit him so he never brought it up again cause it clearly upsets her and Definitely Not because he doesn't want to get bit again haha Definitely Not Jesus Christ what are her teeth made of?? but like he and Kuron and even Ara all Know™, it's very clear to them where certain habits and mannerisms of her are coming from)

That being said once she grows up a bit more and realizes that oh shit she was a lot like Keith, then it's a critical hit psychic damage. It's just full on Shinji pose for days, she will not survive that Realization™ it will actually kill her on the inside, even if this hit at the age where she has mostly calmed down

[golbrocklovely]

i'm blocking out the accounts bc i'm not about to draw more eyes to them. funny enough, i went snooping on my own and found both accounts before this ask.

also this is just a warning, i'm running on about two percent battery brain power, so if this doesn't make sense and/or sounds like i'm an asshole, that's why. i'm not trying to be rude to you anon, so please don't think that. i'm just ridiculously tired of this situation and the ppl involved in it.

imma be so forreal, i kinda have to laugh at all of this. first off, both of these accounts are run by teenagers… and it's very obvious. it reads like a jealous little girl's diary.

also i can debunk all of their shit in a heartbeat. half of it is just them saying "see ! malia is a slut who had work done" and all i gotta say to that is… do you say that about amber? shea? stas? just curious. bc they all got work done, and they all have casual sex (most likely) or at the very least have hooked up with colby. so like???? keep the misogyny even if you're gonna go full pick me.

malia had an onlyfans, yes. she did technically lie in her response to a hater who said she had one. however, no one is owed an explanation to if and why she had one. and secondly, this fandom is full of young fans. if she admitted she had one, yall would just call her a creep that's promoting sex to minors or whatever. and clearly if she actually posted anything of her nude, it would be online. bc.. like these losers pointed out, the videos she did of her modelling bikinis for some brand got put on porn sites by creepy dudes. none of them are of her nude tho. it's just her in a bikini which surprise surprise isn't porn.

she got work done but liked a comment that called her a natural beauty….. do these fans really think they ate pointing this out?? she is naturally pretty, she just got some work done. again, would you harp on shea liking a comment that says that? or amber? or stas?? or how about a woman that's wearing makeup or a push up bra??

these fans really think they have her in this gotcha moment when reality is…. all they're doing it pointing out how pathetic they look. yeah babes, you're totally right. malia is a slutty porn star who got work done… and colby STILL decided to date her. you know why? bc he doesn't care. and you do… and yet here you are… still not getting the attention from colby you think you deserve. even if you were the last person on earth colby wouldn't choose you. and for all the hate you have for malia, you basically run a fan account for her since you know so much about her. but yeah… keep calling her a whore or whatever. you're doing such a good job at it lmao

i'll go thru the other ones these bozos pointed out fast:

colby likes his alone time, she made a tiktok saying she likes when guys are obsessive…. those don't even relate, but on top of that she made that vid before she was even DATING HIM

we have no proof malia made him unfollow anyone, they are just jumping to that conclusion

the cheating thing we now know is false

she didn't steal that hair color from amber………. are yall on crack? amber hasn't ever dyed her hair that color?? she uses a wig??? and just bc she wants to dye her hair a similar color doesn't mean malia copied. how would she have even known that?? jesus christ keep the schools open these kids are DUMB

the girls went to coachella a couple years ago or whatever but claimed the one they went to with snc was their first. oH mY gOd ThEy LiEd Or PoSsIbLy FoRgOt??? call the firing squad and line them up in the town square. burn the witches at the stake!!!!

malia called herself a slut and that's proof… she's a slut. sure. yeah. whatever you say, children. yall barely have had sex ed but please inform me how she's a slut. i'd love to hear it.

the girls in general are copying kat/amber. i mean… they literally aren't. they just cut and dyed their hair, two things NEITHER KAT OR AMBER HAVE DONE in a long time/ever. i would say you're grasping at straws but that would require there to be straws.

if you think malia or katelyn are bad ppl for having subscriptions about their lives where they might post their boyfriends, boy do i have news for you about shea and stas.

anything else they said is horseshit and tbh i'm over it. call me when the girls have been found guilty of something other than being kinda annoying and attention seeking on *gasp* the internet, of all places.

[showakyonen]

MY BFS POST FINALLY GAVE ME THE MOTIVATION TO WRITE UP SOMETHING ABOUT MODERN INTERNET SEXYMEN BECAUSE IT’S HONESTLY A REALLY WEIRD PHENOMENON THAT NOT ONLY PISSES ME OFF AT TIMES, BUT JUST KINDA INTERESTS ME IN GENERAL. IN A WEIRD WAY.

THERE’S A CERTAIN GENRE OF MALE CHARACTERS THAT, WHENEVER THEY GATHER ANY SORT OF ATTENTION IN ANY WAY SHAPE OR FORM, SEEM TO ALWAYS EVENTUALLY GO THROUGH THE FOLLOWING:

1. BLOW THE FUCK UP ON SOCIAL MEDIA AND HAVE LEAGUES OF PEOPLE THIRSTING FOR THEM

2. THIRSTING BECOMES SO COMMON THAT IT OVER-SATURATES EVERY BIT AND PIECE OF CONTENT FOR THAT CHARACTER, INCLUDING THE WAY THE FANDOM PERCEIVES THEM IN GENERAL

3. CHARACTER IS REDUCED TO NOTHING BUT A ‘HOT FLIRTY DOM DADDY’, DESPITE HOWEVER THEY MAY BE PORTRAYED IN CANON. MOST OF THE TIME, CHARACTER EXHIBITS SYMPTOMS OF MENTAL ILLNESS AND/OR DISABILITY, OR A DEEPER CHARACTER ARC IN GENERAL. I THINK THIS MANAGES TO SALT THE WOUND EVEN FURTHER

(IF THE MEDIA IS UNFINISHED) 4. CHARACTER EVENTUALLY HAS MORE CONTENT RELEASE, AND ONE OF THE FOLLOWING HAPPENS:

A. IT ISN’T WHAT IS EXPECTED AT ALL. UNSURPRISINGLY, CHARACTER DOESN’T BEHAVE LIKE A SUPER SUAVE, CHARMING, HOT, TONGUE-WAGGLING FREAKAZOID WHO WANTS TO BED EVERYTHING IN SIGHT. INSTEAD, THEY BEHAVE IN A WAY THAT’S AN EXTENSION OF THEIR PERSONALITY IN PRIOR APPEARANCES.

B. NEW CONTENT OF CHARACTER IS MINOR OR EASILY MISINTERPRETED, AND THEY BLOW THE ABSOLUTE HECK UP ALL OVER AGAIN. CYCLE STARTS AT 1 AGAIN BUT ITS LIKE 3 TIMES WORSE

IT’S SOMETHING THAT I HAVE SEEN HAPPEN SO. MANY. TIMES. IN SO MANY COMMUNITIES AND FANDOMS. JUST OFF THE TOP OF MY HEAD I CAN LIST JAX, CAINE, MILKMAN (TNMN), AND PERHAPS MOST NOTABLY: WALLY DARLING.

WALLY’S TREATMENT WAS AWFUL. I DIDN’T EVER CONSIDER MYSELF A FAN OF WELCOME HOME, BUT I SURE AS HELL WAS WITNESS TO THE ABSOLUTE ABOMINATION THE FANDOM SURROUNDING HIS CHARACTER BECAME. TO SEE A CHARACTER THAT WAS VERY CLEARLY INTENDED TO BE AUTISTIC, OR AT LEAST AUTISTIC CODED, HAVE ALL OF THOSE TRAITS COMPLETELY STRIPPED FROM HIM IN FAVOR OF TURNING HIM INTO SOMETHING “SEXIER” AND EVEN PUTTING DISGUSTING CRIMINAL LABELS ONTO HIM AT TIMES WAS JUST AWFUL !!! JESUS !!!

AND I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO CALL THIS. BECAUSE IT ISN’T TUMBLR SEXYMANNING, AT LEAST NOT TO ME. THIS IS SOMETHING THAT LARGELY HAPPENS ON SITES LIKE TIKTOK, WHICH I DON’T EVEN PERSONALLY USE ANYMORE. IT’S A REALLY ODDLY COMPLEX THING THAT SEEMS TO ONLY HAPPEN TO MASC CHARACTERS, PROBABLY BECAUSE FEM CHARACTERS ARE EITHER SEXUALIZED THOROUGHLY WITHOUT ANY CATCHES OR JUST OSTRACIZED ENTIRELY BY LARGER FANDOM. SOMETIMES BOTH. MISOGYNY IS GREAT (READ HEAVY SARCASM)

PART OF THE REASON WHY THIS THOUGHT BOUNCES AROUND IN MY HEAD SO OFTEN IS BECAUSE I CAN SEE THIS KIND OF THING BUDDING WITH MY FAVORITE CHARACTER EVER, DARLY BOXMAN. IT’S MOST DEFINITELY HAPPENING TO HIM, JUST MORE ‘QUIETLY’ BECAUSE PINK CITY HASN’T REALLY HAD AN OPPORTUNITY TO BOOM. I’M UNIRONICALLY THANKFUL FOR THIS. AND, GODDD, IT MAKES ME ANGRY. SO MUCH SO.

AND, AT THE END OF THE DAY, MAYBE THERE’S NOTHING WRONG WITH THIS. CHARACTERS ARE SUBJECTIVE. HOWEVER… IF YOUR INTERPRETATION OF A CHARACTER THAT CLEARLY EXHIBITS TRAITS OF MENTAL ILLNESS, A CHARACTER THAT HAS A VERY EXTENSIVE AND ALMOST RELATABLE STORY ARC, OR A CHARACTER THAT IS LITERALLY JUST SOME GUY… IS SOME SUPER HOT AND CHARMING GENERIC NORMATIVE HUNK… I THINK I AM ALSO FREE TO THINK YOUR INTERPRETATION OF THAT CHARACTER IS DUMB AND SHOULDN’T BE INCLUDED IN NUANCED CONVERSATIONS ABOUT THE MEDIA!

BUT IUNNO. SHRUGS

I’M OMITTING PART OF THIS BECAUSE IT’S MORE PERSONAL AND NOT DIRECTLY RELATED AND I JUST WANNA YAP. YOU CAN FIND THE “DIRECTORS CUT” ON MY WEBSITE WRITINGS OR WHYV, WHENEVER I PUT IT UP.

[triviareads]

"just because he's a dad doesn't mean he's a daddy" is so accurate 😅.

It's like authors want their mfc to call their mmc "daddy" just because it's popular even though it doesn't fit his personality

lmao you get it. Not to be the Mr. Darcy of daddies but the term, in my opinion, is applied too indiscriminately (in romance novels and trope-wise; irl go ham with the term even if it's gotten kinda cringe in the way people interact with celebs; see: Pedro Pascal's internet daddy era). The second there's a hero who's vaguely older than the love interest, he's DADDY, which doesn't feel right imo. It's more about attitude than any actual age or age gap. They need to have that benevolent vaguely paternalistic air (basically, big "he'll take care of you and get shit done" energy) and some amount of sternness.

So, for context, I was reading Caught Up by Liz Tomforde (I really liked the last book The Right Move; one of the few recs tiktok got right lol, so I preordered Caught Up), and it started to feel a bit... off? Because the heroine was 25 and the hero was 32 but the text kept trying to emphasize the (negligible) age gap and daddy-ify him, like, she kept thinking he's soooo much older and soooo much mature than her when really, he wasn't. Sure, having to raise a baby does make someone grow up real fast, but it isn't by leaps and bounds compared to Miller (heroine). AND YET she called Kai "Baseball Daddy" for like, nearly the entire book, which I did not think was cute. There was one "daddy" during sex but that feels more like a joke than anything (although he's still like "JESUS MILLER").

The other egregious misidentified daddy I recently came across was Mark Trevena in Sierra Simone's Salt Kiss. There was more than one review that called him daddy and yet, I did not see it at all. Sure, he's older than Tristan and Isolde, and he's the dominant one in their relationships, but there's like, zero, daddy qualities about that man. He's too messy and unpredictable, regardless of the sex appeal.

[someoneihavelovedbutneverknown]

Hi hi!

Your pinned post says you're a witch! That's so freaking cool!!!!

How does it work?

thank you!!!

i really don’t know where to start, but i’ll try to :D

So essentially witchcraft is kinda how it sounds. being a witch. a lot of media about witches takes some inspiration from witchcraft, but they are generally fairly inaccurate.

as well, it is not a religion unless you want it to be. it can just be a spiritual practice if that’s all you want it to be.

i’m gonna try to put this into sections so here we go

Wiccan, Hellenistic and Paganism witchcraft

this section does involve deities, and i will cover more on them in a bit.

as similar as wicca is to witchcraft, where are quite a few key differences. wicca has specific deities, such as The Horned God, The Green Man, as well as the triple aspect (based on phases of the moon) The Maiden, The Mother, and The Crone. wicca is more religiously based because of its use of deities.

hellenic witches are likely those you have seen on tiktok, talking about their experiences with Zeus or Artemis. they work with Greek deities and spirits.

pagan witches kind of pick and choose deities. one pagan witch may choose to work with Freya (a Norse deity) as well as Apollo (a Greek deity). i’ve even seen some pagan witches with Christian God or Jesus Christ as their deity, so it’s pretty cool.

there are also Norse Pagan witches who work with deities from the Norse mythos, such as Odin, Thor, Freya, or Loki (i work with Loki :D).

deity work

you may be asking, “Cam, what the fuck are deities?”, and i’m glad you asked (or not).

deities are a type of spirit guide, they are essentially a being of energy (that’s what some say) that can sometimes take on physical form. sometimes deities will want to work with you, so they’ll reach out. reaching out can include repeating numbers, symbols, animals, or interests.

as dope as deities are, there are also trixter spirits. while deities will help you grow in both your craft and in your general life, trixter spirits take that energy, and disguise themselves as a deity. an example i’ve seen is somebody had “Hades” reach out to them, but after starting to work with “him”, they started getting a lot of anxiety, and it turned out to be a trixter spirit.

spirit guides

now that i’m confusing you with terms you don’t know, it’s time to define them!!!

a spirit guide is kinda what it sounds like, it’s a spiritual guardian (deities, ancestors, spirit animals, guardian angels, ascended masters, passed love ones, and probably more that i didn’t include).

i already covered deities so i’m not gonna do it again, now let’s talk ancestors. i personally haven’t had much experience with mine, but looking at what others have experienced, it’s not one specific person. it’s more so a group of people. i’m not to helpful on the topic, so you may have to do you own research.

spirit animals are one of my personal favorites. it’s an animal that watches over you and helps you. some may have a pet that passed away, others may have a random animal (mine is a bear, she’s very sweet).

guardian angels are very prominent in Christian religions, and they are exactly as shown in Christianity. an angel that guards over you, and helps you.

ascended masters are kinda what they sound like. think Mary, Buddha, important mortals and masters in religions that help you out :).

passed loved ones are very self explanatory. they serve as a guardian angel of sorts.

now, how do you find these guides? i’d say the best method is guided meditations (look on youtube and spotify/apple music)

yay now what about actual witchcraft

so, there are a few types of witchcraft. let me show thy, in a motherfucking speedrun babyyyyy

Green witch- works with spells, herbs, crystals, and plants

Astrology witch- works with zodiac signs, sun, moon, stars

Divination witch- works on predicting the future (crystal balls, tarot [tarot isn’t limited to divination witches tho same with pendulums], tea leaves etc.)

Moon witch- works with the moon and moon-based deities (Selene, Hekate)

Sun witch- works with the sun and sun-based deities (Helios, Apollo)

Crystal witch- works with crystals (and sometimes chakras)

Grey witch- works with both light and dark forces, pretty neutral about this practice vs that practice

Chaos witches (meeeee)- works with chaos magic, and does anything to get things done (yes, this can include appropriation and violation of closed practices, but i personally do not like to go there bc guilt issues go brrr)

Eclectic witches- a little bit of everything!

now, i covered the basic and common types of witches, but there’s probably more out there, so don’t be afraid to resarch!!

closed practices

a closed practice is something specific to a culture. voodoo and hoodoo are two examples of closed practices, and those can be practiced by African American people, or people of African descent (don’t quote me on this part, i have like base knowledge on this). if you find a practice that i haven’t listened in the witchcraft types section, please to research on wether or not it’s a closed practice.

now, you’ve reached the end!!!

there is so much i could list, but this post would be fuckin long as hell. so, if you’re interested in anything listed, i recommend you research! here are some things that you should definitely research if you’re looking to get into witchcraft. as well, the use of white sage is specific towards Native American cultures, so please look into things that aren’t your culture!!!

-crystals

-chakras

-closed vs open practices

-shadow work

-meditations

-and any topic you’re interested in!

feel free to send me anymore asks, i’m all ears!

[jesusbutbetterrr]

Hi Jesus !!! Use this ask as ur personal ticket to dump about whatever you want! I wanna listen!!!

ok so this is mainly just gonna be about makeup and shit bc it's one of my favorite things. So like half of this is issues I have and then the other half is my screaming about stuff. The yelling is first, issues at the bottom. All below cut

We need to start normalizing colors in every day makeup.

"You look like a clown!" Good, did I scare you?

It kinda breaks my heart to see someone decide against a blue eyeshadow look because it's "too much" or whatever. I hate the amount of times I've been complimented on my makeup for looking "so natural" I get it's said in nice intentions, but my goal was drag queen low-key.

Also I want people to feel free to try out different things with makeup, it's not something you need to look alive or shit. It's too put on for fun and to look cool and awesome and express yourself.

You like that color? Go paint half of your face with it!!! (Ok I feel like it just should be said tho, do not paint your whole face in black, just don't)

You love glitter? Put it everywhere!!

Fan of a certain shape? Like doodling? By the gods, try out graphic liner!!!!!

WEAR BLACK LIPSTICK.

just wear it, I feel like we need to do that more

APPLY SHIT WITH YOUR FINGERS

FUCK THE DIRECTIONS

ok maybe don't do certain shit tho, like please don't put stuff in places if it says not to. Don't ask me about pressed pigments, it's literally just eyeshadow that could possibly land cosmetic companies into lawsuits, that's why when they add pressed pigments into eyeshadow palettes they tell you not to put it near your eyes. I hate to tell you, but it's going near my eyes. Almost on a daily basis. Chose your own journey.

USE PRODUCTS FOR MORE THAN JUST THE INTENDED PURPOSE

CHOSE THE BOLD LIP COLORS, THE CRAZY EYE LOOKS, THE HARSH CONTOUR, THE CRAZY EYEBROWS, THE HEAVY BLUSH, THE EXTREME EYELINER

ENJOY YOURSELF DAMN IT

MAKEUP HAS NO GENDER ITS FUCKING POWDERS, LIQUIDS, AND CREAMS

um I feel like I got most my ideas out.

SUPPORT THE COOL ASS INDIE BRANDS AND SHIT.

YOU DONT NEED EXPENSIVE MAKEUP

I mean if its something really cool and specific to the brand and everything checks out for it to be good, go ahead, treat yourself.

DO WHAT MAKES YOU FEEL GOOD AND HAPPY WITH IT

For the issues n stuff:

I have an issue with a lot of tiktok makeup trends due to the fact that half of them are the same thing with maybe one or two changes to them, but suddenly everyone has to 'jump on' to the trend even tho they did the same thing three videos ago.

I'm also tired of a lot of the clean girl shit simply because a lot of the people who do it make it seem like that is the only way makeup should be done. Like the whole idea that makeup should be natural or made to look just like skin or whatever is bull shit to me simply because the people who say that tend to like push the idea instead of just kinda bring it up. Im not saying everyone does, but there are a lot who do.

Another issue I have is like a lot of fancy ass brands and shit. Like a lot of these brands will release new things like eyeshadow palettes and it's only like 6-24 or so of the same nude/neutral colors that can be found in so many other palettes. I just don't really see the point in it. Also like half the time I see people paying like more than half a lower class pay check for a cosmetic product that preforms just about as well as a makeup kit from Claire's. Like what's the fucking point.

I don't like the fact that we're in the year 2024 and people sit dont widen the shade ranges for darker skin tones and shit. Im glad we're learning about all the different undertones for people and all that, but like for the love of god, can y'all quit making a total of 4-6 shades for dark skin colors and also stop making them all warm toned. I will say though, there are brands starting to get better, but I'm so tired of seeing a foundation go viral only for a POC to not find their own shade in that product.

This also goes for things outside of foundation or concealer. Face powders, bronzers, contour, blushes, lipsticks even. Like this issue goes past the more basic things. This is why I literally hate hearing about Charlotte Tilbury's pillow talk lipstick. "But what about pillow talk medium?" It can burn in hell. Also like seeing POC only have about one or two blush choices half the time is more than disappointing. The darkest bronzer of a new product that could literally be used as face powders for them, actually depressing.

Anyways yea, I feel like I've gone on long enough, people need to widen the shade ranges, it's actually not that hard.

[bi-bard]

my predictions for who i'll write about in stories inspired by the songs that might be on the deluxe edition of Noah Kahan's "Stick Season"

So.

Noah Kahan has been busy working on the deluxe version of Stick Season... and teasing it on his TikTok.

Just for a bit of fun, I wanna give some prediction on what I think each song we've heard (so far) will inspire me to write because we all know that I'm going to write stories for them.

Again, this is just for fun. This is not set in stone because I don't know the whole songs... or even which of these are going to make the album, so... yeah.

It's just using clips from his videos.

Also, this starts from the most recent audio shared and then goes down the list of videos.

SPECIAL NOTE: I have absolutely no idea how many of these are actually going to end up on the deluxe album. I simply don't. I just kept going until I got tired. Sorry.

---------------------------

"Medicate / meditate / swear your soul to Jesus / throw a punch / fall in love / give yourself a reason..."

I think this will end up being a Dean Winchester imagine. I think somewhere around season 10 to season 11 because I think that's where we see the most distinct moments of Dean truly seeing himself as something bad and undeserving of love and forgiveness.

"I ain't proud of all the punches that I've thrown / In the name of someone I no longer know / For the shame of being young, drunk, and alone..."

Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto from The Bear. That boy is damaged and messy and I think this song is going to be a great way to look at the pitfalls of the behavior that we see from Carmy in the show.

"So pack up your car / put a hand on your heart / say whatever you feel / be whoever you are..."

I don't have a specific fandom, but I'm looking at a found-family story where the reader says goodbye, either to what they knew before or to their found-family. Mostly because this song reminds me of the scene in Supergirl where everyone is saying goodbye to Winn. I'm juggling between something like Titans or something like Doctor Who.

"I saw the end / it looked just like the middle / got a paper and pen / and a page with no space...."

this story is going to be so personal to me. i can already tell. I'm leaning toward a superhero story or a Supernatural story. A life after being with these people. Maybe that life was scary and seemed pointless, but now that their free, they have to deal with missing what was familiar and the guilt of not feeling grateful enough to something better.

"There's a tiny tourist trap a few miles off the interstate / and I watch as it empties out..."

I don't have a character in mind, but I have an idea that it'll be a very tearful goodbye and kiss and shit. Maybe a reunion too? Maybe?

"Quietly you're coming home from work / Forty hour week minus commute / for a dream of planting flowers on the porch / For now, my love, store-bought will have to do..."

I want to write a childhood friends-to-lover kind of thing, but I'm not sure what it'll be yet. I just know that much.

"I'm the tall glass of water you lost in your kitchen / I'm casually cruel like a senior prediction..."

This could also play as a childhood friends-to-lovers story, but I am not nearly as sold on that one. This one is such a strange one to me. It's very nostalgic but also angry?? I don't know. I'm still thinking about it. I'm kinda thinking that Hannibal might work, but there may be another Hugh Dancy character that would fit better, so I make no promises...

"County line, I'm counting down / mailboxes until my house / This place had a heartbeat / in its day..."

I'm leaning toward Doctor Who on this one. I don't know which Doctor it'll be, but I think it would work out well.

"I hear you call / me somewhere only we know / I'll hold out hope / when my eyes open, you'll show..."

This will be a very sad story. I can promise that. It's about grief and it's very complicated process. I have every intention of writing for that.

[loubouskz]

hi guys, I'm sorry that I went M.I.A again. I was preparing for my trip to TX. me and my friends went to go see stray kids on March 26th(the postponed concert). it was my first kpop concert I've ever been too! it was amazing, and all the stays i talked were so sweet. they ran out of lightsticks :(( BUT!! I got a hoodie!

the kids did an amazing job!

under the read more/keep reading, just explain with each member what I loved and what songs I enjoyed the most.

lino did amazing! his stage presence is scary good! i could watch him dance for hours. at last song, he did the dance from twice's new song out of nowhere. the lino and jisung moments were so cute. and every part of FAM was probably my fav! and lino did very well on his speech! in lesser words: IM SO PROUD OF HIM! one thing I did noticed was that when lino was singing his lil solo part when it's 4 of the members on stage. he was being very careful with his voice, like he was ab to lose it. so I hope lino is taking it as easy/resting as much as he can.

seungmin was absolutely hilarious, just him and his personality. and his jokes(mainly towards chan, "covid can what?"...."covid can f off."). AMAZING AND TALENTED VOCALIST! JESUS, HE HIT EVERY NOTE PREFECTLY!😭 he looked like a prince istg!

jisung is just how much I imagined him to be in person🤣  HE SANG HIS SONG: I GOT IT! I DONT THINK I SCREAMED SO LOUD BEFORE! and changbin also did a part of it. he has a great mix of being silly and professional on stage. he did a wonderful job!

changbin....I was memorized by each time he came on screen or when i panned my phone arcoss the stage. voice and stage presence! changbin's fan enteractions, every chance he got he was with stays. and changbin holding up chan arm when chan asked if they were any parents there was so funny.

hyunjin. this man always goes all in. i felt like i was in a trance watching him preform. his lil dancy dance during FAM. again, he did an amazing job. similar to jisung, he has a great mix of being professional and engaging/having fun with stays. like you can tell he loves doing this.

i.n 👏🏽👏🏽 vocals on point. his dancing, imo was phenomenal(besides lino)!! I loved seeing him preform and just the look in his eyes when he would look up in the crowd was just 🥺 I LOVE HIM. I think he became one of my bias wreckers😅

seeing felix in person felt like a fever dream. his presence is just beautiful. during all in, at the last chours, he was too busy having fun with stays to realize he had to go back with the rest of the kids and finish the song with the dance. but he was so fun to watch! what you see in the videos- how he acts and dancing and rap/sing, he always at 1000%.

now...mr. bang chan, the loml😩 jkjk, unless👀. I couldn't believe he was actually real. my friend started laughing at me bc I was just in complete awe. same with felix, how he acts during channies room and all the videos of him singing, dancing, anything is how he is in person. I could listen and watch him for hours(kinda already do that with channies room🤣) he is really just a light. SEEING HIS SMILE IN PERSON JUST 😭😭😭

my fav songs they preformed at the concert(ALL OF THEM BUT):

1. waitin for us- I cried during it bc when the concert was first postponed and I saw seeing all the tiktoks of them singing it, that song became special to me. I waited so long for the new date; not even knowing if it was coming. so actually hearing them sing it made me bawl.

2. charmer- I think we all know why I(and other stays) enjoy watching the choreo to charmer. the slap to the air was FUCKING PERSONAL LIKE WTF🤣

3. all in- I didn't know they were doing it, I only glanced at the setlist bc I wanted to be surprised. but to hear the song that got me into the kids IN PERSON...was an out of this world experience

[realizing-myself]

So i've been on pinterest (rant)

tw: male entitlement, emotional abuse, discussion of discomfort around dudes, descriptions of harassment

recently, i've been watching a lot of stuff (cough, tiktoks, cough)

and it really helps me make sense of the way i was raised.

b/c i am self-aware enough to know i have rather conservative and lightly restrictive parents.

which is kinda a joke because they are the kind of parents who let me do what i want, but is it because whatever i do is still okay in their eyes?

I just remember the other day, me and my friend were talking about it at lunch, like so rarely do you find very restrictive parents for guys, especially brown guys.

Like if i want to do anything outside of school, my parents will first ask "who will be there? any guys?"

and like there is a certain list of people that qualify to answer this question. and it usually has to be more than two.

i have never walked to a restaurant that is literally maybe 0.01 miles away from school with my friends after school because my parents said no.

and everytime i meet an indian guy, it's like rubbing salt in the wound. they are free to pursue their passions. they are destroying the academia, playing their way through jazz or other things. being an excellent debater. no matter what they do, they are nice, safe guys even if they lead people on and are generally unsociable.

meanwhile, anytime i speak up, i am rude, loud, annoying, and how dare i give my opinion.

well, i won't say i am the nicest person, but like i do give people chances. for guys, you get the 2 chance rule. i will forgive you twice for anything stupid you do that is a literal obstruction to my life.

I have to otherwise i don't have a legitimate reason for disrespecting someone.

most of the guys on the throwing team for discus and shotput, i hold zero respect for any of them. why? should i respect them for always ignoring what i say? should i respect them for going out of their way to never help me? should i respect them for never and i mean *never* cleaning up after themselves?

Literally a guy from the team shook 4 tied tetherballs in my face. he could have FUCKING HANDED them to me. but he chose to shake them in my face.

another guy kicked my chair during lunch repeatedly. i moved to another chair and it wouldn't stop. i moved back and literally seethed in anger before gathering myself together because my mother would not like to hear that i slapped a dude. i still talk to this guy, but i can never forget this incident. my friend who was sitting opposite to me said that she was going to say something but she saw me about to explode and calm down so she said nothing.

this other guy literally would call my name out whenever he saw me. it's not 'cause he had a crush. in fact, his girlfriend would be standing right next to him and she would laugh too as he kept calling after me and i kept ignoring him. i ignored him because believe me if god gave me strength, i would walk to wherever he was and punch his face in. this was not like a one-time or two time incident. this spanned 2-3 times a week for a couple of months. i changed where i walked, but i could never escape them? like i had to talk to one of my friends who literally called this guy up and gave him a come-to-jesus talk with him.

i often tell people i don't remember things well, and they laugh b/c i'm a straight a student. yes, i have decent memory b/c i pay attention and try to engage with the classroom within the note-taking process. but i can never forget these kinds of incidents.

another thing that happened a year or so ago. we were competing at a track meet at another school and girls varsity was doing shot put while boys varsity was doing discus. so the rest of the guys on my team were just kinda hanging around. one of the freshman and i repeat freshman starts hitting on a senior girl from another school. and without thinking about it, i just make some remark about how this dude's a freshman tryna flirt with her and then we made some light small talk. the next day, the rest of the guys on the throwing team text me saying "you were messing up his game? how could you do that?" and here's I know that's utter bullshit. 1. if that girl's a senior and varsity, she would likely not care about some freshman guy, she could have a boyfriend or be focused on college stuff or just single. 2. a senior girl is not about to accept the advances of a freshman dude 3. this was at a track meet, just before we were about to compete.

like bro, could you have chosen a worse place where conveniently a girl can drop her 10 pound shot put and say "oh, oopsie". like yes, i admit I made a mistake with my phrasing and the fact that i said it, but it did not warrant that kind of reaction from most of the other guys through text.

one thing someone can easily conclude from this is that i hate men. that is incorrect. i do know guys who i get along with. h, a, j, a, t, a, etc. there are many. and most of the time, i get along with my male teachers as well. so. i am not the problem here

[aspiring-artist-em]

Hi lovelies, if you're on tiktok, PLEASE REMEMBER SOME FUCKING INTERNET DECORUM.

Call me a bitch, but I'm about to bash some people rn. This shit is making me mad.

For privacy reasons, I'm not showing u usernames. Don't go bullying these people. I'm using them as an EXAMPLE.

But before we get onto that, please read this.

NOW GO BACK, AND READ IT AGAIN UNTIL YOU UNDERSTAND THIS GUY'S WISHES

Onto my angry woman rant now

COMMENTS LIKE THIS ARE NOT OKAY

Like do you see the problem?

No?

Let me point it out to you.

The first two have the same problem

"This is my second coming of Christ, I missed Zar so much"

"OMG?!? WE ARE SAVED"

Really? Your second coming of Christ? You're saved? ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? Dawg, the reason they left is because people like you were being fucking selfish omg. Get it through ur thick skull. Like genuinely shut the fuck up and touch some grass. Authors are PEOPLE. WE'RE NOT CONTENT FARMS, NOR ARE WE FUCKING ARCHANGEL GABRIEL STANDING IN YOUR BEDROOM WITH A BAGILLION EYES AND PROCLAIMING UR BABY IS JESUS. We're literally just people and the whole, "omg im saved" thing is really unhealthy and like, fucking problematic. It's also like, fucking creepy in a parasocial black mirror kinda way. Like imagine bullying and idolizing someone into leaving a fandom, and then bullying them and idolizing them into coming back, TO TURN AROUND AND DO IT SOME MORE OMG. Like be so fucking fr rn. Can't you see the problem in this!?? It's fucking creepy ass shit dawg. Idk who authorized you to go and run amuck on tiktok but pls for the love of god, go the fuck outside and talk to people so you know how to fucking talk to people you admire without comparing them to FUCKING JESUS CHRIST. And maybe, just maybe, STOP BRINGING UR EMOTIONAL MANIPULATION "omg ur back I'm so glad I was so sad u made me so sad bc u left me and I took it personally even though shit like this is why u left and imma keep continuing to do it again but I'm so glad ur back 🥺" BS INTO THIS. Maybe just stop and FUCKING THINK AND REMEMBER THAT YOURE TALKING TO A PERSON WHO IS LIVING AND BREATHING.

Onto the third comment, it's short, simple, to the point and absolutely THE WRONG THING TO SAY IN THIS SITUATION.

"FINALLY!!!!!"

All I have to say, is authors don't owe you shit and ur acting entitled. Check yourself babes, this isn't the take you think it is. Maybe you should "FINALLY!!!" check your attitude towards writers bc shit like this is why zar left in the first place and why the comments are turned off on his works.

SOMETHING ELSE I SAW: people using his deadname as a hashtag

Quite literally, why am I sitting here and having to explain why that's bad. Like that's fucked dude. I don't even wanna talk about it and I can't because I don't have experience having a preferred name, but like, that's so fucked up dude. Like come on. Maybe just don't. And no, I'm NOT posting a screenshot because that's his fucking DEAD NAME OMG HAVE YOU NO SHAME.

An example of an okay comment is something like this

Isn't this beautiful? And good behavior, I applaud them. Yes, it wasn't phrased the best, but they A) respected Zar's wishes and didn't SEEK OUT THE FIC, and B)they expressed their happiness that CR is back without like, idk, calling zar FUCKING JESUS CHRIST????? Kudos to them for doing the bare minimum and being respectful 💜

Self explanatory, honestly me too. Kudos to you both 💜

And finally, something that made me a let out a little laugh when i read it

A joke so bad that it's good LMAO

Okay, I shall now get off my high horse and take off my shining armor, but I just wanted to say this real quick and reinforce my statement that AUTHORS ARE PEOPLE, JESUS FUCKING CHRIST.

Edit: the "war is over" sound, really? Really?? Fucking war? Babes, you didn't get to read a Jegulus Hunger Games au; u didn't actually fight in the hunger games or in the fictional hunger games war. Like just stop pls.

Crimson Rivers, is it back? What now? Does that mean Zar is back?

So, like a normal, sane reader, when I get an AO3 notification, I immediately drop everything and check it out. In my little tiny brain filled with angst and smut, I was thinking that it was maybe a chapter being updated, or maybe someone I love replying to a comment I left about how their writing is so fantastic and giving them vivid descriptions of how I wish to burn it into my brain because how good it is. Turns out, that was not the case.

It was a fucking notification about Crimson Rivers being posted.

I sat on my bed, and just stared. My brain wasn’t working. I was halfway though a bag of chips that my dog really wanted and staring at an email that bizarrestars fucking posted Crimson Rivers.

And Best Friend’s Brother.

And Just Lovers.

And all of those fics I was dying to read were back. All the fics that had me frothing at the mouth with want and the insatiable urge to consume everything he put back out into the world. And so, I followed the link in my email and oh my god-

They were back.

All of them. 

Every single one of their fics was back up and I was fucking psyched because I have an AO3 account and I have access to it again. Me, along with many other fans of his works and readers in this fandom, texted friends and loved ones. We smiled and downloaded the files, swearing that we will never lose those works again. 

___

So, like a normal, sane author, when I get an AO3 notification, I immediately drop everything and check it out. In my little pea brain filled with ways to torture my readers and ways to get them off through my words, I was thinking that maybe someone had kindly left a kudos on my work, or maybe even comment on it. All my works are ongoing and to be honest, I was a little scared to open my email because what if it’s a negative comment? What if it’s someone telling me that they hate me because I’m sick and twisted, writing the filth I do. What if it’s someone telling me that they hate how I made a certain character bisexual because in their mind, bisexual women can’t also be attracted to women? What if it’s someone telling me that the trauma I write about is misrepresented and that I am an awful person for romanticizing it when I swear I’m not, when I know that I’m drawing from experience. What if it’s someone saying the aforementioned trauma is too dramatized, and that the way that I write it as something to be worked through, doesn’t fit their “one kiss and all the bad memories go away” narrative they have in their head. What if it’s someone telling me I should be ashamed, telling me that I am disgusting, telling me that I shouldn’t write what I write even though I have hyperlinks embedded in my fics and even though I have additional warnings per chapter and even though I have so many tags the plot is given away. Turns out, that is not the case.

It was a fucking notification about Crimson Rivers being posted.

I sat on my bed, and just stared. My brain wasn’t working. I was halfway though a bag of chips that my dog really wanted and staring at an email that bizarrestars fucking posted Crimson Rivers.

And Best Friend’s Brother.

And Just Lovers.

And all of those fics people were dying to read were back. All the fics that had people online frothing at the mouth with want and the insatiable urge to consume everything he put back out into the world. And so, I followed the link in my email and

oh my god-

They were back.

All of them.

Every single one of their fics was back up and I was filled with fucking dread, because all I could focus on is how there’s a shiny new prongsfoot fic right there on the top of their page, the first thing people will see. All I could think about is how they talked about people not respecting their wishes with their fics  and how people on the internet are fucking relentless. All I could think about are the videos I will see with people complaining that they can’t read it because they don’t have an AO3 account and people attacking them for the two chapter prongsfoot fic right there, and how people fucking idolized the guy, putting him on a pedestal and hailing him as the “best fanfic writer ever, right there along with misskingbean (who may or may not be Taylor swift (I swear, Taylor is NOT misskingbean))”All I could think about is the exit he, and MANY OTHER authors made because people got ahold of their work and were fucking rude about it. All I could think of is someone who was practically pushed off the internet for doing what he loves so well that people started hating when he wrote what he wanted to write, and how now, he’s back and honestly, it scares me a little bit because he didn’t deserve the hell people put him through.

___

Crimson rivers, is it back? What now? Does that mean Zar is back? Short answer, yes, yes, and yes. Long answer, yes but only if you have an AO3 account and ONLY IF people can be fucking nice this time around and maybe remember that zar is a fucking person with fucking feelings and something called a fucking mental health to take care of. Authors have feelings too, we aren’t some mindless fic generator. If you want that, go to chat gtp or some shit. We put our hearts and souls into our work and share it because we want to put it out there, not because we want to get bullied.

Now, I know what you’re going to say, “oh, but I just really loved the guy, he was like the second coming of christ with his words like I just really wanted to read more because I loved him so much, like I forgot he was a human because I just loved him and a little love never hurt anyone.” 

But like, that’s also really fucking problematic and actually obsessive. Just think about it. Like this guy is a person and like, maybe you shouldn’t treat him like he is anything more OR ANYTHING LESS. Like honestly, he probably didn’t start posting his work to gain fame, like this was probably really unexpected for him. AND EVEN IF HE DID, IT DOESN’T MEAN YOU GET TO TREAT HIM LIKE A FUCKING PRODUCT GOD DAMN. Like, this is a PERSON. Imagine if your best friend or little sibling came to you and was talking about people putting enormous pressure on them and being obsessed with everything they do and how they feel like they have to be perfect and please everyone because if they don’t, they’ll get harassed online and like, it’s genuinely damaging their mental health. Like, imagine if that happened to you. What would you tell them? Well, hopefully, you would tell them that those people are fucking obsessed and that they need to take a break and maybe, just maybe remove the works so they could put their mind to rest, because that’s better than this. Like come on everyone, can’t you fucking see the problem with that? Idolization and bullying go hand in hand and the poor guy has been though enough. 

Also, remember, be kind to the guy and like, idk, treat him with fucking human decency? Don’t deadname him maybe? Don’t like, idolize him? Don’t get mad when he writes what he wants to fucking write because you don’t like it? And maybe like, respect his wishes? It should be pretty fucking simple tbh, but apparently it’s a difficult task for some of you. He isn’t a fucking god and maybe like, before you comment, actually sit there and reflect on what you are going to say to him.

SO MAYBE, BEFORE YOU COMMENT SHIT, REMEMBER THAT ZAR’S, (and, for the record, every other author’s) MENTAL HEALTH IS MORE IMPORTANT THAN A 800K WORD STORY ABOUT DEAD WIZARDS. LIKE PLEASE, YOU CAN FUCKING LIVE WITHOUT ONE SPECIFIC FIC WHEN THERE ARE SO MANY OTHER FICS OUT THERE, AND SO MAYBE LIKE, REMEMBER TO RESPECT THE AUTHORS WHO WRITE YOUR STORIES.

MAYBE, JUST MAYBE, BEFORE YOU SAY SHIT, THINK ABOUT WHY HE FUCKING LEFT IN THE FIRST PLACE, DEAR GOD.

[hakugreenfinch]

ahh im being the grumpy old man that just wants kids off his fucking lawn but i dread the day tiktok decides to get back into dmmd.

anime tiktok is so much worse than 2014 tumblr because you can just shit out a 4 second video calling someone a pedophile without elaborating and go viral and i really dont want to see this remaster of 14-year-olds diving into an r18 dead dove dont eat game and being surprised that the dove they are eating is dead. like how yarichin bitch club was labelled “literal child porn” and if you so much as mentioned it or used its op song you had to put a disclaimer in your captions that youre a good god fearing citizen that isnt into bad things. but worse, probably.

i hate i hate i hate how dmmd is the “meme gore porn game”. im not even going to say “because the story is so much deeper” bc even if it wasnt more than gore porn - youre taking a single game out of an entire subgenre and act like this was the piece of media that killed jesus! dmmd is a disturbing and dark bl visual novel and there is a difference between its problematic elements (noiz’s disability being magically cured can be one of these) or “i dont like this genre”. and bro its not even the worst thing you can find in this subgenre of bl! its literally the lightest n+c game out there. imagine taking idk the dyatlov pass movie and saying all horror is bad because people are killed in it.

i sound very bitter and pissed and i kinda am but i really wish people learned to tell the difference between “this is objectively bad” and “its not for me and i didnt like it”.

also this is where i get personal. but wholesome unproblematic stories of pretty freshly washed high school boys holding hands rarely satisfy me because they remind me of things i never had and never will be and that sucks. i need to disconnect from the world i live in and watch the worst people on earth kill to find someone they can love and rely on after the apocalypse and go through bad things i relate to but cant discuss irl. its not pretty but neither are my experiences. why should the way i process things and find comfort be pretty. nobody should be watching and judging me for it in the first place