#if for ever some reason sleep token see this

[venus-lou]

Oh what I would give to relive the moment I discovered Sleep Token

[morgue-friends]

"A Maiden's Token" | Count Orlok x Female! Reader

Warnings: 18+, smut, dub-con, count orlok is his own warning, blood kink, penis in vagina sex, sexual tension, creampie, oral (f receiving), death is mentioned, no aftercare, reader probably has stock-holm syndrome.

Fourteen days, that's how long you've been here. That's how long you've been left on your own every daybreak and then expected to entertain death itself every evening. As the sunset on the snowy horizon, you made your way back into the castle, dragging your tattered dress by what remained left of it through the snow. Upon entry, you were shocked to see that the fireplace was still lit. Occasionally, it would flicker out during sunset as if the castle consciously knew a force of darkness would be awakening.

With a sigh, you lifted your dress and dropped down by the fireplace suddenly out of breath. Maybe it was the consistent blood loss or the freezing temperatures of the European mountains that you were succumbing to. As far as you knew, he hadn't given you any reason to believe that you'd have an extended stay at the castle. At the end of the day, your chances of reaching the next morning relied solely on the temperament of a man. Your mother had taught you well enough about men to know that when they get bored, they tend to move on.

You felt the presence of tears threatening to depart from your eyes as you thought of your poor mother. She must be so worried and heartbroken. Ever since the two of you arrived in Europe after leaving America, her overprotectiveness of you has grown enormously. When you told her of a Count from a neighboring country requesting your services for painting a self-portrait of him within his own castle, she warned you against going and you decided to shelve away her concerns as mere fairytales. You gripped the silver locket necklace hanging around your neck for security and sighed. Your mother had gifted you this locket on your most recent birthday, and holding it helped you think of all your fondest memories with her.

Now, here you sit, sleep deprived and undernourished. He left you only bread, some grapes, wine, and a bucket of water. You were thankful for the water as you refused to be inebriated in your current situation. It was almost shocking to see he had the decency to have the water refilled each day, but you knew it was only because he'd hate to let his food source run dry.

Suddenly, you were startled when you heard the pouring of wine into a goblet behind you. You hadn't even heard him ascend up the stairs of the castle, and yet there he was in his full glory at the head of the dining table. Now, whether he did ascend the stairs and walk right past you or he simply just appeared at the table was something only god himself would know.

"You have been crying." The Count's thick accent hung heavy in the air, his voice sending a rippling wave of goosebumps over your skin. The tone of his voice was accusatory and not at all sympathetic. Even with English clearly not being his first language, you could hear his overwhelming disappointment. Over the two weeks he's kept you here his English had somewhat improved either by hearing you speak it whether you were asking to excuse yourself to find somewhere to use the bathroom in the empty bucket he gave you. Or from your begging and pleading for him to just let you go home.

Your cold hands desperately wiped the tears from your eyes, and you stood to your feet. He watched you approach the elegant dining table, and you took your seat as far as you could away from him. It was painfully obvious that this night would go just about the same as every other night. You two would intensely stare at eachother while you'd ate your bread for dinner, he'd make you get up and walk to the guest bedroom where he'd make you strip naked and feed from you and then you'd pass out from the pain and awake in the morning to the Count missing and nowhere to be found.

It wasn't even like he needed to feed from you. From your understanding, as he explained it, he'd go into the nearby village and 'have his fill' after he had siphoned a small amount from you. It made you feel like some kind of appetizer or twisted desert for him to be keeping you alive this long. Even with his figure shrouded in darkness, you could still tell by his posture that he was growing impatient with waiting for you to finish your 'dinner'. It was almost like the flickering flame of every candle avoided his very figure as if the fire itself was scared of this entity.

When you finally finished, you stood up from the table and waited till he rose from his seat before you allowed him to lead you to the guest room. You had gotten so used to his grotesque heavy breathing that when he suddenly stopped, the silence was deafening.

"You are crying again." At least when he said it this time, he sounded somewhat amused. It was like he knew that you've accepted your fate and that there wasn't anything you or god could do about it. The door to the guest room opened slowly without him having to touch the handle, and you stepped inside, fingers already loosening the ties of your corseted dress. "Forgive my tears, my Lord." You cringed at the title you gave him. Of course, an entity this dark would be so egotistical to have you address him as a Lordship. You had wondered if this kind of evil was something that would come from inside someone or from the beyond.

"Why would I need to forgive such fragility? You are a human girl. It is in your nature to be weak and fragile." A vein could have popped in your forehead, and you wouldn't have even known it. His words made you seethe and boil with anger, you had to bite your tongue so hard not to say anything that would get him to eviscerate you on the spot.

"Ah, there she is, my cochetă, my minx, be angry so that all your blood may flow freely." Your body winced at the nickname he gave you. He had called you it frequently rather than your real name. Even when you had unknowingly signed away yourself to him in a contract, he addressed you only by 'cochetă' which he explained was romanian for Minx since you weren't at all fluent with the language yet. You dropped your dress and undergarments off in a chair away from that bed so that you may spare it from any more trauma. After taking your seat on the bed, you draped the blood-stained blanket over your shoulders in an attempt at making you feel like you haven't soiled your modesty.

"I have seen all you have to offer. You will not hide from my eyes." With in an instant, you removed the blanket, not from your own will but because he compelled you to do so. Another tear fell down the side of your face, and this one he wiped away with the side of one of his long pointed nails. Your head fell back onto the mattress, and the Count leaned over you and dropped his face to below your exposed left breast. His breath against your skin felt like ice, and you shut your eyes in order to brace for the pain that never came.

Instead of the feeling of two fanged teeth penetrating your heart, you felt the knuckle of one of his fingers brush against your clit and your back arched. Your eyes widened, and you sat up to meet his stare. There he stood, completely unafflicted by your reaction. In fact, it was almost as if you were the one who did something wrong. Impulsively, a heat pooled in your lower abdomen, it's warmth radiating down your legs. You squeezed your eyes shut in hopes to catch your breath and calm yourself down. What he did to you was only causing a natural response from your body, and you had no control over such responses.

Nonetheless, you still felt the urge to mentally shame yourself for being a such sinful whore who's body responds like that to the touch of something - someone so heinous. It was almost as if the devil himself had cursed you with such blasphemy with the way your nipples hardened to a peak and your thighs squeezed together, trying to prevent you losing yourself to sin any further.

You didn't even open your eyes back up when you felt his cold hand grab a hold of one of your thighs, you were then pulled further down the mattress closer to the edge of the bed and to him. A hand that was so cold that it felt like it was devoid of any life and any warmth worked it way up your chest and grabbed one of your breasts. You bit your lip to hold back a gasp when the peak of your nipple was rubbed back and forth by his thumb. It wasn't until you felt the contact of his mouth around one of your nipples that your eyes shot wide open.

You looked down to see that he had your left breast peaked in his mouth while he suckled on your nipple. Your body betrayed you once again, and that heat you were feeling at your core seemed to grow much hotter. A swipe of his cold tongue against your nipple made you look down again, and you got a good look at the head of the man doing this to you. He had since discarded his hat in the dining room, and now you have a much closer look at the spirit you were dealing with. The back of his head was rotten and decayed even under the several thin tufts of brown hair on his head. It felt like you were looking at a corpse of a man that should have been locked far away in a coffin in the depths of hell.

You weren't even paying attention when a hand parted your thighs and brought attention back to your clit, he pulled back the hood and started rubbing slow deliberate circles around it, being mindful of his claws. He switched to your right breast, and at this point, there was no use controlling your gasps and whimpers anymore. He was so gentle with you. Maybe this was foreshadowing that tonight would be the night he'd finally get rid of you, and this was just him rubbing salt in the wounds and making the evening last as long as possible. He'd never touched your nether regions before, but when he fed from the blood of your heart, he'd often rub his hands around your waist as if he was mockingly consoling you the way a lover would.

The hairs of his thick mustache tickled your nipple and you weren't ready for when he dragged downward a long lick from your breast, to over your stomach and then finally stopping at the mound between your legs. You exhaled deeply when he resumed and dragged his blackened tongue down your slit, getting a taste of your wetness in his mouth. This wasn't something you should be enjoying, just the symphony of approving noises that left your lips made you feel appalled with yourself. It wasn't until you felt his lips lock around your clit that you became heavy lidded and utterly defeated.

You settled with the idea that he's being so cautious with you because he's going to make you reap what you sowed when it was time for him to experience his own pleasure. And regardless of how good he made you feel in this very moment, you still hated him. He tricked and imprisoned you in this hellish imitation of a castle. He left you alone and unattended during the day, allowing a pack of wolves to ensure you never take your leave. It was because of him that your mother was a several weeks journey away, worried sick about you, and you weren't even sure if you'd ever see her again.

You were on the verge of crying again until he rose to his feet, his figure demanding your full attention. His clawed hands fiddled with the buttons of his trousers, and your breath hitched. The hefty fur cape he wore would frequently would drape over his frame and seculde him in almost total darkness. You never knew what his daily wear looked like since he seemed content in hiding in the shadows of your vision only to reveal slightly more of himself to you when he fed from your body. What came to your vision when he glanced back at you was the erect bulbous head of his cock. It was engorged and jutted upward toward the ceiling as if it demanded your gaze on it.

He crept closer to you, staring intensely as if trying to gauge your state of mind, trying to see whether you were going to fight or flee. Instead, you just allowed your head to fall back onto the mattress. It was pointless to do either of those, and deep down in the darker realms of your subconscious, this behavior from him was welcomed. When the head of his thick member prodded at your entrance, your breath hitched, and you closed your eyes tightly.

Instead of thrusting inside, he thrusted his shaft upward, dragging it along your slit to coat himself in your wetness. When the shaft slid up against your clit you couldn't help but mewl out, still feeling that knot in your lower belly that was just waiting to be undone. When he finally seized the moment to thrust inside you, your eyes shot open, burning and stinging with tears. The Count let out what sounded like an inhuman hiss as his length seeped into your heat, inch by inch. The stretch was almost unbearable. It felt like you were being split right down the middle into two halves of yourself, and you weren't sure what half you pitied more. Your mouth opened to make a noise, but nothing came out. Such an intrusion of this nature left your throat speechless and strained. He pulled his hips back, and a clawed hand shot up to your face and held you in place upon his re-entry.

Those pointed nails of his were so sharp it felt like you had needles digging into your skin. Beads of red came into your vision dripping down your face from how much pressure those thick claws of his put into your flesh. When you tried to snatch your face away from his hand, he only pulled out and thrust into you more harshly. The squelching noise your cunt made around his length felt nothing short of sinful. To your disbelief, you learned he still had more of his shaft left to give you when he pushed himself further inward to the hilt. The thick head of his cock struck your cervix like hammer and a painful cramping sensation followed behind it. He hummed a noise of satisfaction as if he was he was impressed you were able to take all of him to the hilt.

Your breasts bounced on your chest when he roughly pulled out entirely only to shove himself back in. You gave a whine in response, and it was only then that he had seemingly guaged a fine line of pleasure and pain for you. Adjusting himself, he started up a pace of feverent rutting that made your legs tremble pitifully around his waist. The pressure of his hand on your face left when he leaned over to get a taste of the clotted blood that dotted across your forehead. His body was so much larger than your own that he had to contort himself over you to be able to taste the crimson he created and be able to continue his rutting.

The frequent movement of your body from the impact of his hips against yours was beginning to loosen that knot you felt in your belly. Your moans grew louder, and so did the beating of your heart against your rib cage. Inducing this creature to feed from you because your heart enticed him was the last thing you needed right now. The pace of his thrusts harshened, and so did the primal look he had in his eyes. Having him over you and staring at you like this, as if he were a lion and you were a weak gazelle soon to be eaten. For such an entity of darkness, he had such expressive eyes, sometimes they were so black you could see your reflection. Sometimes, they were so white and cloudy, you'd wonder where he had come from, heaven, hell, or neither.

"Please..." You weren't quite sure what you were begging for, but in your heart, it felt like it was for release. Release from the built-up pressure in your belly, release from the castle, or even release from life itself. Your hand reached up, and you cupped the flesh of his face. His skin was so cold, so rotten, and yet there was a feeling of life as if there was perhaps a soul present, but you knew better. There wasn't any life within him, as he was death itself. There was no soul within him, as he claimed the souls of others.

The closer his body, his cock, brought you to this peak of of pleasure that you pleaded for, the wider the smile grew on your face. A smile that didn't go unnoticed as his lips claimed the skin of your neck in what felt like possessive kisses. Perhaps this union of flesh solidified the extent of your stay at the castle through your own submission and your yield to the power he had over you. Those kisses trailed up to your own lips, and you tasted death from his mouth to yours. You tasted your own blood from him, and you tasted his hatred and his darkness, and yet you no longer had fear for it. With a painful clench of your walls, you came undone, your release washing over you in thick waves.

The spasming, clenching, and squeezing of your canal made the already deep and ragged breaths he took erratic, as did his rutting a few quick snaps of his hips and you felt a spurt of cold fluid inside you. The chill of it rose up your spine as it felt as if death itself had released into you. A deep animalistic growl vibrated off of the stone walls around you and bounced around in your skull. When he removed himself from you, you felt the remainder of his spent coat your inner thighs.

You looked away as you sat up on your own elbows, trying to balance yourself, and when you looked up, expecting to meet the eyes of a starving beast, you were met with an empty room. He had left you, spared you even. You couldn't imagine the type of carnage and havoc he'd wreak upon those villagers tonight. Reaching up to clutch your necklace for security and your hands found nothing but skin. He was gone and had taken your necklace with him. He took it as if you had bestowed upon him the honor of having a maiden's token.

[specsthesecond]

https://www.tumblr.com/specshroom/752286251279908864/some-rather-unlucky-investments-have-landed-you-in?source=share

Being fucked at any time without warning, whilst enjoyable, is also very tiring. It also interrupts your sleep. Which you could forgive if every one of those using your pussy portal was polite enough to at least make you cum.

You decide to read through the contract you barely skimmed before.

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Brilliant question!

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[waokevale]

Some Dwarf headcanons, since they're extremely underrated and deserve more love. (And lore)

I imagine them to be humanoid, but at the same time, very creature-like. Don't get me wrong, I love the idea of them just being like Marvin from Looney tunes and straight up having a pitch black face, but I wanted to play with something different. :>

They have thin fur but it does very little to protect them from the cold.

They have night vision and are nocturnal.

They can see very well in warm light, but struggle seeing shades of green.

They regularly visit floor 100 to keep up their ancestors' tradition of Lava eel fishing.

Speaking of lava eels, I'd like to imagine they eat them whole, like that one quote from the Canon-Friendly Dialogue Expansion mod.

They can survive in insanely hot temperatures and are relatively unharmed by lava, but they struggle a lot during Winter.

They are ectothermic or 'cold-blooded', their internal body temperature is similar to that of a reptile, hence why they're especially uncomfortable with cold temperatures.

Winter is actually when their kleptomania is at its highest peak. Due to the scarceness of supplies and foregables and their need to eat a lot more to keep up their body warmth.

They sleep very little and can't hibernate, so instead they have to rely on eating a lot more food than usual, since they burn energy insanely quickly.

Unlike shadow people, they become independent from their guardian a lot quicker. They mature quicker too, but they live significantly shorter. (Still about 20 times longer than a human though.)

They used to keep many stonefish pets throughout centuries, but gave up on raising them after the 53rd one died. (Yeah those don't exactly live very long...)

They were created in a laboratory, which soon thereafter came to ruin. – They don't remember anything of this time and don't know the whole story of their origins.

They're one of the youngest living members of their species.

They of course consume minerals on regular basis; those are very rich in elements which Smoluanu require to survive.

To be able to easily break open said minerals, their teeth are extremely sharp. Almost as hard as diamonds, although they don't use them very often and would rather grind them up with tools.

Their bone structure is at least 5 times harder than that of a human, except for their skull, which is their only true weak point. Hence why they only need to wear protection for their heads.

They have rat-like paw-pads on both their hands and feet to protect them from rough terrain, though they chose to wear clothes over them.

Part of the reason why Smoluanu wear clothes and helmets is to disguise themselves from their enemy. No shadow fiend has ever seen a Smoluanu without their disguise, or so they say...

If it were to come to that a Smoluanu has been spotted without their helm by a void spirit, they would immediately have to kill them. If it was a group of brutes however and they were cornered, they'd be forced to blow both themself and their enemies up.

Dwarf has been collecting the helms of their fallen brothers and sires and keeping them on a shelf as mementos and as a sign of respect for them. They sometimes bring tokens, which remind them of the fallen person and place them inside their helm.

They hope that one day, they'll be able to recover the lost secrets of their ancestors' technology. That's why they appreciate when the Farmer gives them artifacts. It makes them feel closer to their ancestors' history and adds another puzzle piece to their theory about them.

For now though, they like to tinker and make small gadgets, usually nothing as ambitious as Maru, but they sure are trying. ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯

That's all I have for now. 👍

[moon-ayyye]

Worst fandom mischaracterisation/headcanon of each bat-associated character, in my opinion (these are in no particular order) :

1. Duke Thomas is the sane, rational, "normal" one.

Have you ever read the We Are Robin arc? Duke is fucking unhinged, his introduction was him jumping off a bridge to escape cops. This is a kid whose father is immortal and is the first metahuman in the batfam. He lost his parents in the most horrendous way possible (joker venom. They're still alive, but it's horrifying) and organised a whole gang as a child. He threw down with a green lantern and 2 shot his ass. Hopefully, this headcanon is just a product of people not really knowing the character and goes away soon once people find out more about him, when he isn't just the token black guy in a fic or a background character in batfam drama.

2. Stephanie Brown is quirky and sassy, and ONLY quirky and sassy. She's over her trauma with Black Mask and Cluemaster!!

Stephanie Brown is a very interesting character, with an origin story that is very similar to jason todd. She's been through hell, yet she constantly gets infantalised by the fandom, which gets kind of ignored in favour of talking shit about how people infantilse tim (super valid and I'll come back to it later on in this post). You most commonly see this in timsteph stories where they show her as the immature first love, and how as tim grows up, he needs to date more "serious" people, as if tim wasn't the main reason their relationship never worked. This is also common in stephcass fics, although on a smaller level. Writers tend to make stephanie the bubbly outgoing girl that balances out all of cass' angst (some of those fics are really good, but they mould steph in a specific shape so she can be a prop for cass to heal). On an even smaller scale, I've seen both romantic and platonic jaysteph stories where stephanie appears as the "good" victim who let go of her animosity to black mask and cluemaster, and so now, she can help jason let go of what happened with the joker, and bruce's abuse. Obviously, this is a disservice to both of these characters, but people tend to focus on how it's more of a disservice to jason instead of steph. Let my girl express her trauma and heal, and stop using her as a prop for other characters! She wasn't just cutesy as robin, she threw the fuck down. Her introduction included hitting tim in the head with a brick!

3. Slut/himbo Dick Grayson is reductive of his abilities as a leader, and is not only offensive to real survivors of SA, but incredibly racist towards Romani people.

Do I really need to explain this one? Dick Grayson is a symbol of hope that bruce wishes batman could be. This man is a natural born leader and has stepped up to the plate multiple times, both during his time with the titans and as batman. He's charismatic and lovable and a genuinely intelligent man, but for some reason, he gets depicted as a dumbass who has to deffer to bruce or tim or babs any time he has an issue with detective work. Yes, you can delegate. Of course, you can delegate, but going straight to tim and rattling off the case you JUST accepted doesn't make sense, ESPECIALLY if you're on seperate cases and tim or bruce have to postpone their work just to solve it for you. As for the other part, Dick has been heavily implied to be demisexual, given that he only has sex with people he has genuine feelings for. He wouldn't just sleep with any random woman who compliments his ass enough. Also, having an SA victim be characterised as a slut is both reductive of their trauma and a weird way that some authors justify how he's "over it." Really doesn't help that he was slut shamed (canonically!! why is this canon??) by the rest of the titans after sleeping with mirage, who pretended to be kori. Additionally, it's really weird if the first thing you think of when you see an attractive romani man just sleeps around. People don't say that about other conventionally attractive characters, even ones who HAVE slept around. The only character i can think of that gets characterised like this is bruce, but that's an image that he cultivated to keep batman hidden.

4. Jason Todd was always doomed by the narrative. He would have died if bruce hadn't intervened. Also, pit rage.

The tragedy of jason todd was, and always has been, that he was doomed by the AUDIENCE. He wasn't just an angry, reckless child, and calling him the angry robin is stupid and reductive. Was he angry? of course he was, but so was dick, and so was damian. Using a single word to describe a person is never going to be enough. Jason was notoriously compassionate to victims, especially women and children, and sex abuse victims. He got pissed when the system he was asked to believe in was shown to be ineffective, to the point where bruce believed he killed a man over it. The kid had a bright future ahead and loved school, modt of robin!jason's shitty qualities came from bruce and alfred compartmentaling his image and shitting on him to ease their guilt over his death. Pit rage is also a cheap way to take away his autonomy, an easy pass to explain the shitty things he's done. I like it when the pit has side effects like glowing eyes or increased healing or something, but pit rage is stupid. It's either used to force characters to forgive jason since he wasn't himself or as an angst prompt for jason, another testament to how he came back wrong, or a way to have him hurt a character to further up THEIR angst (*cough* titans tower AU fics*cough*). Yes, he did shitty things. Let him do shitty things without giving him an easy out. Otherwise, your story isn't compelling at all.

5. Feral Damian Wayne is just straight-up racist, no?

I love damian. I think that, for the most part, he's been written pretty well. However, damian suffers from the fact that he's an arab character in a post 9/11 comic, and thus there is bound to be some casual racism, both in comics (like when tim assumed he was too uncivilised to know what a handshake is) and fandom. Has damian wayne done a lot of shitty things, especially to tim? Yes, absolutely. But that doesn't make him feral. He was raised by assassins as the heir to the throne and to the greatest hero in the world, raised to think that blood relations are the only ones that matter, so of course he's dismissive of tim. He's also a prince who was raised in luxury, who was born as royalty and has experienced more opulence during his birth thsn most peoole do in a lifetime, although this opulence is extremely conditional, with horrifying requirements (the story with damian having a metal spine as a child is insane). Does it make what he did to tim right? Definitely not. Does it excuse his actions? Also no. But it does explain them, it tells us where it came from. Being traumatised and having extremely high expectations of both sides of your family doesn't make you feral.

6. Tim Drake is just a small little baby who can't function without his coffee.

Let me preface this by saying that i don't like tim drake. At all. As a huge fan of the al ghuls it was a real kick in the balls having Ra's be reduced to a creepy pedophile who wanted tim as an heir, and sent a woman to rape tim in order to carry his child. Also, I hate how DC decided to prop him up by shitting on jason todd. However, this doesn't mean that I don't enjoy his YJ run and that I don't enjoy some of his comics/fics. That being said, nothing on this earth pisses me off more than tim stans. You know the ones, the people who want damian hanged, who want dick and jason and bruce to fall to their knees and beg for forgiveness. Tim has been through an insane amount of trauma, and that's understandable, but please, for the love of god, don't create more whump for tim at the cost of other characters. You can hate damian, I wouldn't blame you, but remember that he's like 10 and tim put him on a hit list. Dick never wanted to put tim in arkham, and he didn't have time to support tim when it came to an honestly insane (although ultimately correct) conclusion. Also damian as robin was alfred's idea, and damian was the one that put on the costume preemptively, dick got pissed at damian for that. When it comes to jason, I'd say it's complicated. While titans tower was fucked up, it wasn't as bad as people made it out to be. My first introduction to the fandom was through jason todd since he was my favourite robin, and then i learned they brought him back to life when i played injustice. The number of fics and posts that mention that jason went to the tower specifically to kill tim is insane. When i got into comics, it was like whiplash; it wasn't a one-sided beatdown, tim was conscious until the end, the goofy ass robin suit jason had on, jason never slitting tim's throat (that happens in hush, and even then i don't think he really slit his throat, since the art shows that the skin was kinda nicked), all of that was wild to me. BftC is one of the shittiest comjc book runs when it comes to characterisation in general, and I've already discussed dick and tim, so it's only fair to talk about jason and tim. There's no justification here, honestly, other than shitty writing i guess. The other side of the coin is enemies to caretaker jason and tim, which is so fucking wild?? they're like 2 years apart, and tim is extremely competent, he wouldn't pass out mid patrol because he forgot his coffee.

7. Bruce Wayne doesn't believe people can change and doesn't care about Crime Alley.

For the first one, please fucking read a single comic book. Just one. Better yet, maybe research why batman doesn't kill. You know, the most popular thing about him? As for the second, it's mostly just a way to show how jason is better than bruce and how he's right to take over the alley since no one cares about it. Now I LOVE jason todd. He's my favourite comic book character of all time tied with gambit and Dr. Strange. But I hate it when you create angst or comeuppance by blatantly ignoring the chatacter and their motives. Bruce became batman so that what happened to his parents can never happen again, and this includes helping the poor people in crime alley either through patrolling there or by setting up countless charities to improve life there. You can make the case that batman avoided crime alley after jason died. It's not canon, but it would make sense. However, I dont see him ever giving up on the alley, both to prevent what happened to his parents, and to help people like his dead son. I fucking hate bruce, he's done a lot of shitty things, but making shit up just to make him worse is getting old.

8. Misc

There aren't really enough mischaracterisations about cass and babs to warrant separate paragraphs, so I'll just reiterate the infantalisation of cass and babs having no qualities outside of oracle, master hacker, and dick grayson's on and off lover.

[differentloveletter]

My Homelander Headcanons

Oh babe this was past due.

(It’s funny bc I don’t think I’ve said I LOVEEE Homelander :3)

-SFW

-Realtionships

-Baby he is obsessed with you

You can’t leave him alone for too long or he will himself go around and try to find you. As well as he can’t sleep without you either on the phone or with him in person. Once you are locked in with John you are locked in for life.

-He doesn’t know how to say no

If you are homelanders baby You get whatever you want. It doesn’t matter what you say he does or gets. You’re basically spoiled and he complains about it but he does it anyways.

-He gets scared he will hurt you

It doesnt matter if you are a supe or human he makes sure he’s gentle but even when he messes up and isn’t he quickly shuts down and starts apologizing. He never wants you to be scared of him he wants you to see him as normal..

-He wants to be babied at times

He likes when you hold him caress him kiss him basically love on him. Even cook him food help him pick out his normal clothes when he hangs out with you outside of vought. He loves loves when you leave forehead kisses as well as when you make your infamous cookies with a glass of milk for him. He just wants you to take care of him like how he deserves to be token care of.

-Personal

-He’s insecure

Sure it’s not surprising but should be addressed. John is really insecure when it comes to himself his relationship with you or even if he’s even the right one for you. Giving if you are a supe or not he wants to be the main provider. And he feels like he’s not doing so he would start freaking out. But he just needs to learn you are willing to provide too

-He has Multiple Personality Disorder

Sometimes John needs help to be guided or to even stay sane. How he grew up only was followed up with this disorder. Sometimes he gets overwhelmed and can’t stay focused or even can’t keep himself on the right track having to do with self care working etc.

-He wants to be the perfect dad

Sure this is a given but having no support growing up and only to be put in a world filled with possibilities he wants to give his offspring the opportunity he has. And which says why he doesn’t want butcher to be in his son life because he feels like I didn’t have support from these many people in sure you’ll be fine with just me

-He can’t swim

Sure enough the Golden boy can’t swim. I wouldn’t put it pass him. If he’s flying all the time why would he need to be able to swim at all.

-He is well educated on History

I’m not saying that homelander isn’t educated but when it comes to history he knows it. Having a aura of Americana does boost what his purpose is but he spent some time actually learning and understanding americas story

-He hates Reality Tv

He believes it doesn’t give the people privacy like they should have privacy, but then again he is a famous supe so he might relate to this a lot

-NSFW

-He loves breast milk (like..directly from the breast)

He says that it tastes better directly from the breast when you guys were experimenting one day. You where getting ready to pump and he walked into the room

“What are you doing?” He asked staring down at you confused. “I’m pumping?-“ you looked back raising youre eyebrow. “What you want to try some?”. He didn’t oppose. He looked around then back at you “you’re joking?”. “I mean I guess not but that’s fi-“ “no no no- *ahem..* I mean yeah pfft why not it’s not gonna..kill me right?” He says cocky as he chuckles.

Then he tried it. When I tell you it was harder getting him off your breast then you’re actual baby I wouldn’t be lying. This man is a beast. A beast that can drink milk.

-He loves when you pull his hair when you are making love

He likes the feeling of his hair pulled for some reason. At first when you did it it was an accident when you both where kissing but to get a moan out of him shocked you and embarrassed him. Ever since then you always made sure to tug his hair alittle to excite him more.

-He doesn’t dislike period sex

Although he is covered in blood most of the time this man came back home so stressed needing to take it out on something. Like you but he knew you were on youre period.

“Baby I told you no I’m on my period.” You giggle looking at John resting between youre legs as you where reading a book. “I know but- this one time” he sighs cringing at his own words as he rolled his eyes looking to the side. “Go ham baby” you gently look at him giving him permission.

Let’s say he enjoyed it but he asked you don’t mention you guys did this, then you reminded him it’s much better than him fucking a octopus (cough cough deep-)

-He likes floating when fucking

When he picked you up floating in the air while doing doggy for the first time you were in shock. Never in youre life you were picked up, I mean like that at least. And when doing this missionary you had to ask him for a round 3 that’s how much you enjoyed it. And he enjoyed that you were loving it. It made him last just as long.

-Quickies are a must

Having being Homelanders assistant at some point he would find you some how and do it right there it didn’t matter if you where washing youre hands in the vought bathroom or if you where behind his trailer on the set of “dawn of the seven”.

Just as it didn’t matter if you didn’t work for vought. You could be walking with your groceries and he would find you and do you right there. At home he would fly to you and come though you’re window and take you in the kitchen if you’re apartment . God how much he loved quickies.

-He has a hand kink

He loves your hands. He loves watching you..write type..give him and handjob..run you’re hand though his hair and praise him while he pleases you. He loves how soft they are and he always pays for them to be done. He personally loves acrylic nails he likes seeing what you come home with next.

-He has a Praising kink

Shocking I know but John always needs that push of reinsurance that he is doing that right thing when you guys have sex. He always checks in “am I doing good?” “How does it feel momma?” “Can I do better?” “Want to make you feel good” You loved it when he called you momma though it made him cringe he loved calling you it, he said you give off a mother feeling and he can’t help but to feel safe under you or on-top of you. “Good boy John.” “Oh you’re so good to me” “you’re so prefect baby boy”. He would lie and say he doesn’t like the praise. “Good job John,” “hey you did amazing today great save”. but EVERYTIME you do praise in bed or not in bed you always put a smile on his face. It’s like Ken and barbie :)

[howlett-n-morgan]

Take Me Home

4. John Fucking Marston

Arthur Morgan x Texas Red!Reader

A/n: GUYS I GRADUATED MY FROM MY COURSE! i give you this chapter as a token of my celebration... now I just have to make sure I don't have any models fall off the runway in my line up lmao

Summary: The newest arrival makes his way into camp, and inadvertently becomes the reason that chaos begins to spread. Luckily, his new uncle Arthur is there to carry the woes on his broad shoulders.

Warnings: mild swearing, canon typical violence, birth?? mentions of past death and Arthur remembering his deadbeat dad days. drinking, mild alcohol abuse?? also Hosea is a real one we love Hosea

WC: 4.5k

“Need I remind you of the price you’re gonna pay?”  “She’ll be safe with you. The boy, too. I ain’t leavin’ them in incapable hands.” “But you’re leaving them,” Arthur reasoned, trying his best to make any last effort to save what could have been, but he knew his found brother would not be changing his mind. His only thought at this point was to beg him to stay. If only because he was the one who asked. “Don’t do this. They need you, we need you.”

A week after the heist, Arthur’s shoulder was feeling better… but his head was hurting like hell. 

In fact, on this specific night, nearly everyone’s head was throbbing on account of the wails and cries of terrible pain coming from the edge of camp. 

Abigail had gone into labor around five hours ago, and the little baby had still not come into the world yet. As of right now, the men were huddled close to the fire, passing around a fresh bottle of whiskey in attempts to pass out so they could get some sleep. Meanwhile, the women were rushing to and fro about the camp, working their asses off to bring a new life to the gang. 

You figured it would help you bond with the boys more if you sat with them, moaning and groaning about the noise… but you’d much rather be helping, making sure nothing went wrong in the tumultuous process of birth. 

It wasn’t until close to one in the morning that a tiny baby boy was born, strong as ever, with lungs so powerful they could blow a lark out of a tree. His cries replaced Abigails, but after all that time, everyone was pleased to know the delivery was over, and both parties were healthy and sound. 

The men did eventually pass out, all except two. 

Arthur and John were up till the crack of dawn arguing, and it didn’t look good from an outside perspective. 

You were about to take back towards your tent when you came across them, hurriedly getting out of their line of sight so you could listen without suspicion. You knew you had no right to eavesdrop, but with everything you’ve heard from Abigail concerning John, you were bursting with curiosity in a way that turned your stomach. 

“I don’t see why I need to be convinced otherwise,” John ripped into his dearest friend, and even from behind a wall of tented fabric, you could imagine the look on his face. 

“You’re makin’ a mistake right now, and you ain’t gonna see it until it’s too late.”

“How would you know? S’not like you did any better,” the tone of his voice was bitter, almost. John caught himself, taking a step back and breathing more evenly after his fit of anger. “I didn’t mean that, Arthur… but you oughta know where my head’s at.”

Arthur was silent, and you wished more than anything you could see the look on his face to determine how Marston had gotten to him. Was he saddened or angry? Maybe even confused? You didn’t know, but you didn’t have long to dwell on it. 

“You listen here, boy,” Arthur’s voice sounded threatening, intimidating. It was perhaps the scariest you’ve heard him speak. “You ain’t got no idea what’s comin’ to you if you leave. There will be no place in hell you’ll be able to hide from the decision you’re about to make. It’ll follow you the rest of your days, and haunt you when you’re dead, you understand me?”

John didn’t speak, didn’t answer or even mumble an excuse, he just walked away. He walked towards Abigail’s tent, ducking his head under and closing the front panel. You stood there stunned, afraid to move… but then Arthur came up around the backside of the area and scared the shit out of you. 

“You hear all that?” He asked, a slanted look in his eyes and a distaste for you in his tone. It might be the remnants from his past conversation, but you hate the way it sounds. 

“Arthur,” you caught your breath from the fright he gave you just in time to mumble out an apology. “I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t be listenin’, but Abigail’s been telling me things and I just…”

He managed to huff out one silent breath of a laugh, shaking his head. 

“Don’t be fretin’ on my account, I ain’t mad at you.” 

You sighed in relief, stepping closer to him now that you didn’t feel so burdened. 

“I don’t know him very well, but what I’ve seen… he doesn’t know his head from his ass. Is he really gonna leave?”

“I don’t know,” he started, crossing his arms and letting out a small yawn. He’s just as tired as you are. “I think I just bought a few days, maybe more, but who knows.”

“You think he can change his mind?” You relaxed your demeanor in front of him, but kept your head on a swivel just in case

He was so tired, you felt bad for keeping him awake, but you figured these thoughts were weighing heavy on him, and it might be good to get it off his chest. “He’s far too stubborn to do it on his own. We’d all have to raise hell for him to think badly of his own choices.”

You frowned, turning towards the tent of the new, young family… There were already so many problems in their unit. 

“Poor Abigail.” 

She’d be alone, and with a child to take care of. And meanwhile John would be scott free and having the time of his life.

“She’ll be alright, her and the boy. I’ll make sure of it,” he nodded towards where you were staring. “Around the time he started acting up, I told her I’d marry her, be the kid’s father if she wanted me to.”

Your head snapped around to him, and you processed his words. Abigail told you about part of his offer, because you’d given her the same one, sans one detail…

“You’re gonna marry her?” 

“Only if she wants me to, if John leaves.”

Good to know… but not really. It looks to you like John is pretty set in his ways, even if he ends up staying through the week, or even more. 

You nodded to him, but you hated the notion that he could already be promised to another person, even if you had absolutely no plans on pursuing him yourself. It was a small little envious monster that crawled in the pit of your stomach, and for a split second, you felt yourself resenting Abigail, who thus far, had become your closest friend after Arthur. 

“I actually offered the same,” you laughed, shaking your head and kicking your boot into the ground. “Not that it would last, but I just wanted her to know I was willing to help.”

“The whole gang chips in here and there, bein’ a family and whatnot… She’ll never go without help,” he assured, his posture becoming heavier with each minute passing. 

“Yeah,” you cleared your throat and stretched your arms out, faking a massive yawn that looked real enough to pass you off. “It’s probably time we all turn in, huh?” 

For some reason he seemed vaguely sad for the interaction to be over. 

“Just about… I’ll catch you later, then,” he waved you off, heading back to his wagon and you to your tent. Even though they were relatively close, the entry points were on opposite sides.

You fell back into your cot with a heavy exhale. It’s been a long night, and with a crying baby in the camp, it’s looking to be a long next few months. 

-

The next few days were wonderful, despite the ill attitudes of a few grumbly men, Arthur not included. 

Dutch has been going on and on since the birth of the baby that the newest member should be given a worthy name. You assume he suggested his own namesake a few times, but since he’s been nothing but playful about the whole thing, you know he isn’t too bitter when they do finally settle on a name. 

Abigail picked it out, and you understand why. 

John Marston Jr, or as the two have taken to calling him already, Jack. 

You were surprised to see that waking up in the late afternoon the day of the birth, John was being… really different. He was putting in effort to help Abigail, he was making sure the others knew of all the information as it came, and most importantly, he was being positive about the whole situation. You suppose Arthur did knock some sense into him, and it was evident in how he was carrying himself. 

You weren’t sure how long it would last, but you felt relieved. Not only for Abigail, but selfishly, for yourself. If John sticks around and pulls his weight, Arthur doesn’t need to be tied down to a family. Not that he would ever see it that way, but still. 

You didn’t know where you stood with Arthur. He was a dear friend, you knew you could say that by now. You think that maybe the playful banter between you holds more than just friendship, but you can’t be sure, and you’re too damn chicken to test the waters. And obviously, a plain and simple conversation is entirely out of the question, because of ridiculous reasons you don’t care to list off. 

Maybe you’ll never know, and you’ll always be playing the game of ‘will we, won’t we’, unable to come to a sound conclusion. You think you’d be well enough with that, even if you never settle down with anyone. 

It’s a terrible absolute, and you should have never decided on it, but you think that being open ended and in this endless cycle of banter with Arthur is better than being in a committed relationship with anyone else. It makes the one on one interactions with him that much sweeter, though. Like today, when it was both your turns to watch baby Jack. The others were working on something in the town, and Abigail and some of the women were napping, having taken care of him through the night.

“He might be hungry,” you suggested, laughing at Arthur’s attempt to sooth the wailing infant. 

“I get hungry too, y’never see me cryin’ about it,” he was joking, clearly. He shook his head and reached for the glass bottle Miss Grimshaw had prepared this morning. 

Jack fed on the bottle and stopped crying, and in the aftermath, you paused to watch the scene before you. A big, gruff outlaw, with his hair tousled and shirt out of place from tiny hands fisting at it, and relaxed in his arms, a tiny baby being bottle fed. It was such a contradictory picture, but one you couldn’t tear your eyes away from. 

“Cute,” you mumbled, nearly under your breath, but he heard you. 

“He’s somethin’,” he chuckled, a small smile on his face when mentioning the boy he held so close. Arthur was many things, but amongst them was gentle. He was a kind creature by nature, that had only been hardened by experience, and these soft moments let his internal goodness show. 

“I meant you,” you teased, and he rolled his eyes, shaking his head. He didn’t even know how to respond for a second. 

“I’m quite the opposite, but I’ll thank you for the thought.”

As tough as he was, and as rightfully boastful over his skill with a weapon or with his bare hands, he seemed to negate himself often. His intelligence, his artistic talent, his looks, even his presence during group gatherings. It saddened you, and you didn’t even know the root of his struggle.

“Why you always doin’ that?” 

“Doin’ what?” he asked, his head tilted to the side and a narrow look on his face. 

“Bein’ mean to yourself…” you answered, sitting down on the other end of the log he was relaxing against. 

What a treat it would be for Arthur to see himself through your eyes. He’d never think poorly of himself again. 

“M’not, just the truth.” 

And that was even sadder. Who on earth ever convinced this man that he wasn’t good enough? Whoever it was, you’d like them to be on the other side of your pistol’s barrel. 

You huffed out a sigh, leaning forward so he didn’t have to strain his neck to look back at you. 

“Y’know it’s too damn bad, I happen to think you’re a pretty decent person. I pity anyone who thinks otherwise,” you spoke firmly, laying it on thick so that maybe he can come to terms with believing you. 

“Is that so?” 

“Mhm, very much so…”

He looked back down at Jack, trying to distract himself from your complimentary onslaught. He didn’t much care for compliments, so he wasn’t even sure how to receive them, if he accepted them at all. He has a very strong belief system, and it’s constantly just a mantra of things like ‘I am a bad man, I do bad things, I am dangerous, I am getting old, I am ugly,’ and so on. He didn’t understand how much he had hurt himself by forming those beliefs in the first place. 

You sat with him in silence for a few minutes, just watching Jack finish the bottle and settle into Arthur’s arm for a nap. He slept a lot for someone that cries through the night. Hearing the soft cries in the night isn’t peaceful, but it’s better than the anxiety and feeling of dread his cries brought you the first day, when John was set on leaving. 

You keep replaying a moment from that morning in your head, when the sun was just over the ridge, and you were heading to your tent… 

“Arthur?” 

“Yeah?” He turned his head again.

“The day he was born… that argument between you and John,” you wanted to make sure you phrased this correctly, unsure if it was a sensitive topic. “He’d apologized for sayin’ something… Sayin’ that you didn’t do any better? What was he talkin’ about?” 

Arthur took a deep inhale and shifted around in his seat, the ground beneath him feeling like it could cave in just at your words. John had struck deep with what he’d said, but having to rehash it, and with you… it wasn’t a thing he’d ever do for fun, to put it nicely. 

“I mean, him talkin’ about leaving Abigail, and you givin’ her your offer… You’re already better than he is.”

“I wasn’t always,” he shook his head. “Holdin’ him like this, it makes me remember just how terrible I am.”

You sank down from the log and scooted closer to him. No one in camp was around to see, so you didn’t bother looking. His eyes got foggy without even going into detail, so you didn’t push… but he seemed to open up on his own. 

“I had a boy when I was John’s age. Same situation n’ all,” he shook his head, trying to keep his sights on the ground in front of him. The longer he held Jack, the worse this feeling got, but he knew it wouldn’t ever go away, not really. Not with a new and constant reminder of his past. “His momma and I, we didn’t get on too well, so I kept with the gang. Didn’t ever come around except when we passed through that town. Could count on two hands the times I saw my own son…”

You didn’t know what to make of this. He has a son? Does he keep contact with him? You’re unsure if you want to know all the details, because hearing it as is, sounds messy. 

“Where does he live?” 

You had no idea that you’d just asked the worst question in response… but how else were you supposed to know? This was the first you’d heard of Arthur’s son. 

“He uh… he died, about three years ago,” Arthur shook his head, swallowing back the lump in his throat, though his teary eyes persisted. “They both did... I came back one day, and found two crosses in the yard. I asked around, townsfolk said a group of robbers came through and raided several homes.”

“Arthur…” you grabbed his arm gently, trying to convey your sympathy, and your sadness. 

“I knew it had been my fault. If I had been there, my son would be alive, his mother, too.” 

A cloud had rolled over the sun, and shrouded in a temporary shade of darkened light, the mood felt heavier than even his words could convey. This man and his layers, being peeled away before you… it was both touching, and terrible. You had no idea a man was capable of feeling so deeply, of being so open about his past and regrets. You’d never seen a man cry before. 

“Issac and Eliza were their names,” he finally looked at you, tears escaping his eyes at a rapid pace. He let them fall, somehow knowing you wouldn’t judge him for it. “And they aren’t here because of me.” 

You gently raised a hand and wiped his cheeks with your thumb, leaving your hand there for as long as he would let you. 

“I’m so sorry, Arthur…” 

Nothing you could say or do would help to heal his wounds, but you wanted to try. Wanted to be there for him, whatever that meant. You and him got on well. You were friends, but there was competition between you, all a part of your banter. You supposed you’d feel inclined to let him win in any circumstance from now on, just because you couldn’t bear to make him upset. Seeing him this way broke your heart, but it also empowered you in some way. To be more empathetic, and kind, and to not let your anger get the better of you. You’ve proven to him in the past that you were a hot head, no pun intended. You would have to be mindful of letting yourself fly off the hinge to him in the future. 

“Even if John doesn’t leave… I swear I’m gonna do right by this boy,” he let out, his voice trembling but his words were of certainty. 

You felt a tear roll down your own cheek, and did nothing to stop it. This moment, whatever it was, you wanted to feel it. Wanted to keep it buried within the depths of your soul. 

You’ve been on the run for four years now, and in those four years, you’ve been on your own, making some sort of fantasy world for yourself where death was just the thing at the end of a duel, and you never had to pay the toll of those losses. 

You’d not been living in reality, and coming to this gang, meeting Arthur… it must have been preordained. It must have been fate. He himself, day by day, was restoring your humanity, and your ability to feel something that wasn’t just a farce.

“Thank you for telling me,” you whispered, but being so close, he heard you clearly. 

He let out a huff that you suppose was meant to be a soft laugh. “You don’t just hear me, Red… you listen to me. I guess I’ll keep on tellin’ you things.”

And soon both your attentions were pulled back to Jack as he stirred slightly. 

You took a turn holding him while Arthur went to grab some food, and you found you rather liked this particular baby. He was a sweet little thing, not so bratty like the tiny cousins you grew up around. You can only hope he’ll stay this sweet as he grows older. 

-

A month had passed, and John was getting more angsty. 

Arthur was honestly surprised he had lasted this long. It seemed impossible that he stuck around, especially when he had to be the one to take a turn with the baby during the night. 

Fights had broken out with various members of the camp, mostly over John and his unwillingness to help anymore. Dutch had chewed him up and spit him out, and after that, John had made up his mind, for certain this time. 

“You ain’t leavin’, just sit down,” Arthur pulled him back by the shoulder, trying to stop him from packing up and saddling his horse.

“What makes you think I would stay with a bunch of folk who hate me?”

“We don’t hate you, you’re bein’ ridiculous. Sit down, we’ll talk about it.” Arthur tried to reach out for him again, but John pulled himself back and out of the way, two steps from the hitching post. “Boy, you’re not goin’ anywhere-”

“I’m leaving!” John burst out, taking Arthur by surprise. This wasn’t just another hissy fit or tantrum where he would eventually let it stew over. He was really gonna do it. “The kid ain’t mine, I counted back. She’s just try’na tie me down, Arthur... I feel for her, but I ain’t stayin.”

“Need I remind you of the price you’re gonna pay?” 

“She’ll be safe with you. The boy, too. I ain’t leavin’ them in incapable hands.”

“But you’re leaving them,” Arthur reasoned, trying his best to make any last effort to save what could have been, but he knew his found brother would not be changing his mind. His only thought at this point was to beg him to stay. If only because he asked. “Don’t do this. They need you, we need you.”

“You don’t need me, Arthur. You’re the better one, always were…” 

“C’mon now, you know that ain’t true. S’just another excuse,” he waved his arms around, trying to emphasize just how stupid it sounded. Yes, it’s all Arthur’s fault that John is leaving. 

John doesn’t even answer Arthur, he just turns heel and readies his horse, all while the older of the two stands by and ridicules him for what he’s about to do. All John can do is tune him out, and pretend he doesn’t hear the distant crying at the other edge of camp, where Susan is trying to console a tired and emotionally devastated Abigail. Their son sleeps in Tilly’s arms, oblivious to anything happening around him, but what’s to come will put a damper on his previously bright future. 

By the time John is on his horse, loaded up and ready to head out, Arthur grabs hold of his leg, yanking it back from the stirrup. He looks to his eyes one more time, to see if there’s any guilt, any resolve, anything that might show he knows what he’s doing is wrong… but he only sees annoyance and pride. Two things John Marston usually wore on his face. 

“If you leave this camp, you best never come back again, ya hear?” 

And for the first time that night, Arthur saw just a shred of fear in the younger man’s eyes. 

“I hear,” he nodded, the fear turning into sadness in this last moment. “It just ain’t worth it no more.”

And with that, he turned his horse, and left the camp. 

Arthur went storming through the camp after the interaction, needing to find himself a drink. 

-

You were angry and rightfully so, stomping back into camp like a bear hunting its prey. Walking up to the campfire, there were only a few left awake. Pearson and Hosea sat, hunched over and with half full whiskey bottles in their hands. Probably from the stolen stash, the brand was decent.

“Anyone seen Arthur?” You asked them both, knowing that at least Hosea could tell you. 

“He passed out ages ago,” He nodded towards his covered wagon near the trees and rocks separating your space. “John left camp tonight.”

“I know, I caught him outside the saloon,” you sat down by them, reaching out for either bottle they were willing to hand over. “Gimme some of that, will ya?”

And of course, drinking was the solution at the end of the day. 

After a while, Pearson dragged himself to bed, leaving you and Hosea to sit and stew by the fire, milling about your tumultuous thoughts. You should have known he’d ask for details of your run in with John. 

“I was out scouting today… realized I needed to go to town for a pair of socks, mine got holes too big for sewin’,” you began, gaze trapped on the fire, the alcohol making it harder to focus on anything else at once. “Came outside and found him hitchin’ his horse.”

“You were the one who approached him, then?” 

“I thought about just wavin’, I thought I’d be seein’ him back here… but then I looked at his saddle. He was packed up for the trek of a million miles,” you sighed, taking another big swig of the pricey whiskey in your hand. You would finish the bottle in no time if you kept up like this, trying to quench your raging thirst for something strong and potent.

“What did you say to him?” 

“Nothing really, not at first. Just asked how the day had been, how Abigail was. I haven’t been here since this morning. I guess they started fighting real bad after I left. Dutch tore into him, too,” you spoke heavily, suddenly the swigs you were slamming back were making you a bit less understandable. Hosea though, was easily able to listen, because after years of Arthur’s drunk slurring, and having to make out sentences between, he was practically an expert. “All I said was that he shouldn’t leave, because he’ll regret it.”

“And I suppose that didn’t help.”

“Nah, he just told me where to shove it. I think he’s scared… not of the kid, and not of Abigail. I think he doesn’t wanna end up like his father. Arthur’s told me something about it, but in my opinion, he’s trying to get out before the resentment turns to abuse n’ all that.”

“I reckon you're right. We all told him time and again he’d be a good father, but he’s stubborn as they come, and when his mind’s made up… there’s no stopping that boy.” Hosea shook his head once more, his sadness reflecting in the light of the fire. 

“I guess Arthur’s gonna marry Abigail, now…” you knew you were just trailing into your thoughts, and that while getting more drunk, you shouldn’t be saying them out loud… but you couldn’t help it. Selfishly, on your ride back to camp, this is all you thought about. 

“He offered, it’s up to Abigail to accept,” he said gently, raising his brows in thought as well. He doesn’t see it as a good match, but he thinks it’s honorable that Arthur would do such a thing. 

“I hope she doesn’t,” you murmured quietly, but it seems he still heard you. 

“What was that?” 

“Nothing, m’just gettin’ drunk.”

He chuckled under his breath, his side eye remaining on your features just a while longer before he stood up, patting you on the shoulder. 

“Don’t drink too much more. You’ll pass out before making the trip to your tent.”

And then he left you alone. With your thoughts and a bottle of whiskey in hand, who knows what more you could do in a situation like this. It was better to cut your losses and just turn in… so you did. 

Laying down on your cot, you expected sleep to take you. It should have, given how tired you were, but the single notion kept echoing in your head over and over…

Arthur Morgan isn’t mine, and he never was.

Tags: @photo1030 @sheepdogchick @snoopysshark @strvberrydoll @yyiikes @phantasyy @puffyhairedhipster @scorpio-echo

[eternal-kosmo-ghoul]

*°:⋆ₓₒ day 8. exhibitionism

.｡❅*⋆⍋*∞*｡ “come watch me play”

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ — ❤︎ vessel likes to put on a show for the christmas cheers. what kind of performance does he have in mind?

pairing: vessel x gn!reader

a/n: first sleep token fic in this little event 🫣

cw: nsfw content. exhibitionism. voyeurism. semi-public sex. degradation. masturbation. blowjob. kinda has iii x ivy. vessel is a bit of a dick.

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“yes… yess that’s it. all eyes on me. watch me fuck this bitch like a dog in heat.” —❤︎

┅✦┅

the moment ii, iii and ivy walked into their recording studio, they were met with a rather… compromising sight.

“… well?”

vessel’s voice ringed out, irritated with his bandmates just standing there. but could anyone blame them? the three of them were stunned, flabbergasted even. they didn’t know what to do.

“well don’t just stand there, you idiots. either you watch the show, or you leave.”

it took a moment for the three of them to even register the sight before them. it wasn’t until iii’s senses came back, and he bashfully shut the door behind them for some reason, he didn’t even know why he did.

what a sight for sore eyes. vessel had you bent over a table that originally had a bunch of sheet music and song lyrics, which were now scattered all across the red-carpeted floor from vessel shoving them off to make room for you. your nails dug into the sides of the table’s surface for support, because vessel’s cock was plowing into your tight, needy hole like it was the last fuck he’d ever have. the fierceness of him stretching you wide for your fellow bandmates to see was only making you more aroused, but fuck was it humiliating.

ii, iii and ivy were stunned, a wave of clashing emotions consuming their minds all at once. ii was stunned, yet he couldn’t take his eyes off of the sight. iii was being bashful about it, awkwardly looking away and trying to hide the problem in his pants. and ivy, well, he was straight up into it.

“hmm… this is what you do while we’re away, boss?” ivy inquired, his tone of voice not really being questioning, but more so intrigued with a certain lustful tinge. “.. didn’t know you had it in ya.”

“i do.” vessel panted between thrusts, gripping your hair and forcing your head up to show your fucked out face in front of the three masked men watching you.

“consider it an early christmas gift.” the sleep entity managed out, his voice quickly turning into a low, husky chuckle.

“well it’s certainly a good one.” ivy snickered, his tone silky smooth. he turned to face his fellow members, smirking underneath his mask. “isn’t that right boys?”

ii was zoned out, he was too focused on checking yours and vessel’s half-naked bodies out. meanwhile iii snapped his head to ivy’s direction, face tomato red underneath the signature face covering.

he slapped ii’s shoulder to get his attention, and they both nodded.

“totally.”

“uh— yes.”

vessel’s voice was hoarse, trembling with pure lust and desire. he was so goddamn horny just from the feeling of multiple pairs of eyes watching him fuck the ever living shit out of you. you didn’t even know how you ended up in this situation. it was one event followed by another, then boom, here you are.

vessel’s strong, veiny hands gripped onto one of your legs and hooked it around his waist from behind, changing the angle and where his thrusts hit inside of you. he started hitting a certain spot that had you seeing stars, and you whined loudly.

“shit!” vessel cursed, gripping your hair more tightly, leaning down to whisper into your ear. “keep making noises like that. i want them to hear how good i fuck you.”

your mind was clouded with pure kinky desire. you could hear the sound of one of your fellow bandmate’s groaning and unzipping his pants, most likely to relieve himself of the boner you and vessel had given him. with this new angle vessel was hitting, you swore you were going to pass out of pure pleasure. it felt way too good to not express it through loud moans, whimpers and cries.

“god fucking damnit.” ii cursed, sagging off his jeans and leaning against the wall to rub his hardened cock. he could not keep his piercing, calculated eyes off of the sight. “i’m so damn horny just from watching this.”

for a moment he locked eyes with you, and that teary-eyed, hazy look on your face only got ii harder, and copious amounts of precum leaked from the head of his veiny length while he jerked himself off.

he never kept his eyes off of you.

as ii was groaning at the feeling of his self-pleasure, iii turned his head to look over at ivy. the guitarist looked so worked up, frustrated and horny from how his leader was going to town on you. he let out little grunts of fury as he desperately tried to jerk himself off.

without saying much, iii gulped, before taking a bold leap, and slipping his head between ivy’s legs, lifting his face mask up a bit to free his mouth. ivy’s eyes widened, but he didn’t object to feeling iii’s warm, wet mouth envelop his dick whole. iii choked and gagged as he took him in deeper, but the salty, almost sweet taste of ivy’s cock was enough to keep him going.

ivy cursed loudly and forced iii’s head down on his cock more, feeling something other than his hand to get him off was so much better. ivy out a loud moan and looking over at vessel and you.

vessel was having the time of his life. he loved the effect that his little sex toy had on the three of them. you just looked so good, your face all fucked out from how many times you came, and ii, iii and ivy were all getting so incredibly turned on from watching you. vessel was enjoying the power he had over his team, it made that dark lust sitting within him brew into something stronger, something that took over his body and made his thrusts more precise, quick and hard.

“yes… yess that’s it. all eyes on me. watch me fuck this bitch like a dog in heat.” vessel cried out loudly, his thrusts getting more forceful, and each moan eliciting from your throat got more raspy and needy.

with ii jerking himself off, and iii giving ivy the head of his life, none of them took their eyes off the sight. they were getting off to it. what perverts they were.

but you couldn’t say much, because you too, liked it. you liked the seductive effect your body had on them.

vessel forced your head into the table more, and kept thrusting. the room was filled with moans and groans of pure euphoria, and the sight couldn’t be more erotic.

vessel then chuckled and spoke to you again, keeping his voice hushed just for you.

“i hope you’re comfy, darling, because i’m gonna keep this show going on and on until you physically can’t cum anymore. got that?”

you nodded pathetically, and screamed vessel’s name loudly for your bandmates to hear.

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[kaddyssammlung]

Twitter "gang" is acting out...again. About the purpose of art / freedom of artists

TW: self-harm (not mine of course but Vessel's)

Twitter gang is ripping each other's heads off because some artists out there make choices that they don't agree with.

Let's leave it at that for now.

I just read that “art is supposed to be comforting”. I find this confusing and also I don't agree. I don't know much about art (in that case it's about drawing). Sometimes I look at fan art and it really is nice and comforting and I just like looking at it. But other Sleep Token fanart I find provocative or even triggering. I see nothing wrong with that in general. It should be an artists choice to portray Vessel however they want to do portray him. Twitter gang has no problem with overly sexual depictions of Vessel and the other guys but someone draws Vessel with his scars and then Sleep Token Twitter goes wild. What the?! And also there is not one purpose of art in my opinion. It can have so many.

“It's overstepping boundaries and also not being protective of Vessel...?” What...?!

How we see someone influences them btw. If you look at Vessel and think of him as a weak human that needs your protection then you actually “make” him weak.

I see him as someone who struggled but found his strength. He does not need my protection. I learned and grew a lot over the past years and the reason for that was all the past trauma that I finally started to resolve. If someone out there looks at me like some weak creature it would make me feel weak.

Something else....it was also said that everyone (especially the ones who struggled with self-harm themselves) agreed that it's not okay to talk about self-harm?!

Hmm....pretending bad things don't exist does not make them go away!

And also I had a lot of conversations ever since starting this tumblr about that topic and also I have always written about it, from the very start and no one ever came at me for it. It was the opposite.

I'm sorry but I'm not going to shut up for anyone's comfort. I do hide posts like these because I want it to be your choice if you read about these topics. Some days I would not want to read my own stuff because it's too triggering. But I won't be silenced. I mean of course talking about this topic in a respectful way!

And also I'd rather have someone come talk to me or open up about their struggles then make them feel like they are wrong for how they feel.

This topic is arleady being so misunderstood and having some sort of "thought control" about that topic is not helping at all.

Whatever...I keep forgetting that so many fans are still quite young and not some close to 40 year old women. I am responible for my employees (and also tenants but I never talk about that). And idk...maybe I learned a thing or two over the years. You know...make mistakes and then learn from them and move on and things like that. Life-experience is the word that I'm looking for. They probably don't have as much as I do but I can't hold that agains them.

[asterias-record-shop]

Hello darling! I was hoping you’d write something I’ve had stuck in my head. Ethan Landry being completely in love/obsessed with the reader so much so that it started back in Woodsboro. Maybe Richie told Ethan his plan and he showed Ethan a picture of the friend group and he thought the reader was pretty. Richie told him that she has a boyfriend but he’d take care of it. And maybe the readers boyfriend wasn’t the best so she didn’t really mind him dying so when she meets Ethan and he’s so nice, it’s as if everything happens for a reason. If you decide to write this, that would be amazing! ❤️❤️

—𓆩[mine - sleep token]𓆪—

𓆩[main masterlist]𓆪 𓆩[request/ask me something!]𓆪 𓆩[song that inspired it (mine by sleep token)]𓆪

𓆩♡𓆪 CHARACTER - Ethan Landry x Fem! Reader

𓆩♡𓆪 TYPE - fluff, smut

𓆩♡𓆪 WORD COUNT - 2.8K

𓆩♡𓆪 SUMMARY - Ever since he saw that picture of you, he couldn’t stop fucking thinking about you. He’d find reasons to go where you were after he killed your boyfriend, your favorite coffee shop and bookstore or running into you at the store, he just… can’t get you out of his head, and it all comes together when a young girl trying to sell your school’s newspaper gets your attention.

𓆩♡𓆪 STORY WARNINGS - violence || foul language & cursing || obsessive! Ethan || timeskips sorry || you’re a journalist now || friends to lovers || loss of virginity (both) || unprotected sex || oral || fingering || marking kink || possessive talk || morning after pill talk ||

I have waited… 

“S-So… who is she again?”

Richie was so fucking annoyed already. Ethan had been asking question after question about you, especially after he killed your boyfriend. “She’s some kid, dude! Oh my fucking god, you want the picture? Here, take the picture! Her name is Y/N L/N, she goes to the same fucking school those other ones go to, I killed her boyfriend, and now she’s single and ready to mingle!”

He pressed the picture into Ethan’s chest, mumbling in annoyance as he continued walking down the hall. Ethan looks down, his fingers stroking over the picture of your face cropped out of a group picture with Tara and Sam. Richie met you a while ago, while he was still dating Sam, but Ethan hadn’t had the chance - yet.

He quickly went to his room, pulling out his laptop and quickly going to search up your school. It wasn’t surprising you were friends with Sam and Tara, but as soon as he saw you on the main slideshow for the school with the title ‘Our school newspaper’s Editor-In-Chief got a full ride to Blackmore University on a Journalist Scholarship’. How the fuck did you become friends with Sam and Tara while being a journalist?

He clicked on the slideshow, a large picture of you and some other people showing up with links to issues and how to get a subscription and such to the newspaper. What caught his eye though was the Instagram link, quickly clicking it and logging in to actually open it, your face in many of the posts. He clicked on one of the posts, your voice matching you perfectly as you yell out, “Come get our latest issue!”

He inhaled sharply, the tight shirt you were wearing and ripped jeans made a shiver run down his back. He listened to it over and over again, the only thing registering in his mind being come, come, come.

It didn’t take him long to lay back, getting ready to get himself off to the sound of your voice before staring at the caption. ‘Come see us at our monthly fundraiser at the Coffee Bean this Saturday!’

Oh he was definitely going that day, but he was focused on other things right now.

That Saturday, of course he attended. It was pretty full, not overly but enough, and he quickly got a drink before sitting in the corner. He had brought a book he wasn’t going to read, the only reason it was with him was because he was using it to hide his eyes whenever you looked anywhere in his vicinity. You were handing out copies, giggling and smiling with everyone you saw, and by fucks name he couldn’t stop staring at you.

“Hey!” A voice made him jump, looking over at a young girl who offered him a magazine. “You’re in high school, right? My cousin is the chief editor of this thing or whatever, you should read it and buy something!”

“Charlie!” A voice yelled, both of them looking back as you ran over. “That’s rude, you can’t do that!”

“Why not? He’s just sitting there pretending to read a book!” The young girl supposedly named Charlie says, flapping around the magazine as you shake your head.

“Charlie, go drink your frappe!” You take the copy of the magazine as she groans. “Go!”

“Oh! Her boyfriend was just murdered, you should buy it!” Charlie tries to play the guilt card, a smile on her face as you quickly push her away.

“Go!”

“I’m trying to get you sales, Y/N! Oh, hey, do you want a magazine?!” She runs after a bystander making Ethan laugh, a groan falling from your lips in embarrassment.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” you whispered, pressing your face into your hands as he laughed even harder. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Ethan smiled at you before offering his hand. “I’m Ethan.”

“I’m Y/N,” you giggled, taking his hand and shaking firmly. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“So… your boyfriend was murdered or was it like… a tactic?” He asked with a smile, knowing full well he was dead.

“Oh no, he’s dead,” you say, eyes widening. “Sorry, I should sound more concerned! I’m not, though, he was an asshole. Do you go to Woodsboro-”

“No,” Ethan says quickly, shaking his head. It could’ve been a lie, you certainly wouldn’t have known that. “I just came to support a pretty girl.” He holds up his coffee, smiling at you.

Normally, he wouldn’t have done that not one bit of him would’ve done that because he’s a fucking pussy, but holding your hand made him confident. You paused as he stared at your face, your eyes flickering down at your hands as you smiled. “Oh yeah? That pretty girl here?”

“She’s real close too,” Ethan smiled widely at you, leaning down to maintain eye contact. “Real close.”

“What did you say your name was again?” You look up at him, biting your lip. “Hm?”

His face turned a bright red as he started to pull his hand away before your fingers moved around him. “Ethan. Ethan Landry.”

Your smile grew. “Well then Ethan Landry,” you tilt your head. “Can I get you another one of those drinks?”

Ethan smiled. “Why don’t I get you a drink instead?”

I know you can see… that you will be mine.

You and Ethan both got into Blackmore University, and while he roomed with Chad, you got your own apartment. You both hadn’t started dating just yet, but he was so close, so so close. He wanted to make you his before the murders started, so that he could… comfort you during the murders. Protect you with everything he had, he was so, so close.

“Y/N, can I talk to you?” Ethan whispered, tugging on your hand while the movie played loudly on the screen, the middle of a sex scene making his stomach twist and his dick hard.

“Hm? Oh yeah!” You paused it, smiling over at him as you raised a brow. “What’s up, E?”

He inhaled shakily, shrugging as he pulled you closer to him. You sighed, hugging him tightly as you laid against his chest. “You know I love you, right?”

You nodded, humming as you looked up at him. “I know, Ethan. I swear… you came at the most perfect, perfect time. I don’t know what I would’ve done if I didn’t meet you.”

“Well, we will never have to find out, right?” He smiled down at you, stroking your cheek. “We were made for each other, baby.”

You giggled. “Baby? That’s new.”

Ethan shrugged, leaning down. “You like it?”

You smile, reaching up to stroke his cheek. “I do.”

“Y/N, you… you came into my life at the most perfect time,” he smiled widely, stroking your face as you shifted to lay back. He moved to stay above you, leaning forward to tuck his face into your neck. “I don’t want you to leave… ever. I want to stay by your side forever.”

You gasped as his hands snake around your waist, pulling your body closer to his own as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. “You promise? Promise to never leave me?”

You had gotten to the point where Ethan was next to you all the time, he was your support system - he couldn’t leave you. He promised you that, your fingers interlocked in a pinky promise whenever he got into Blackmore and followed you here. He couldn’t leave you, you both needed each other.

“I promise, baby, I promise.”

You looked up at him, moving your hands hooking behind the back of his neck as you pulled him down for a firm kiss. “Were you ever going to get to that part, or were you going to keep talking?”

He smiled, leaning down for another kiss. Your lips were soft and tasted like that cherry chapstick you always seemed to lose - even though he always took it from you - and you bought yourself another one the next time you went to a gas station that sold your favorite chapstick.

He always slipped it on whenever you weren’t looking, throwing it away whenever the layer you put your lips on disappeared.

The taste was addicting though, your taste and the cherry flavor he only subjected you to as he pushed his tongue into your mouth, trying to get as much of your taste in his own mouth. You gasped, back arching as his tongue pushed into the back of your throat, swirling around your own tongue and making mixed saliva gather at the back of your throat.

You choked softly making him pull back, lips shiny and swollen as you swallowed with a clearing of your throat. “St-Still need to breathe, honey.”

He laughs, his hands rubbing your sides. “Sorry. Got a little carried away, didn’t I?”

You nodded before sitting up, Ethan quickly followed as you started pulling at your shirt. He gasped when he saw your pretty bralette, black and lacy with chiffon underneath the only thin material covering your tits. “You did, but it’s okay. I want… I want you, but I’ve never done this before. Have you?”

He goes quiet, unable to answer as he stares at your tits and his hands twitching in anticipation to squeeze and grab at them. You giggled, leaning forward to instead cup his face while your other hand pulled at the hem of his plaid button down that you got him for his birthday one year.

It was easy to pull it off him, his body immediately at your mercy as you pushed him onto his back instead, hovering over his cock before sitting down on him. He groaned loudly, his cock pressing against his pelvis as you leaned forward, rolling your hips into his as his hands held your waist and pulled you closer. He groaned as you leaned down, kissing his lips softly. “Think that’s a no, right?”

He shook his head quickly, staring up at you. “N-No, I’ve never done this before.”

“Sex or seeing a woman naked?”

“I-I… does porn count?” He asked mindlessly, as though it wasn’t the stupidest question in the world, but you laughed as you leaned down with a firm kiss.

“Sure, baby, if you want it to.” You responded, bringing his hands up to your bra as you fixed yourself. “Do you want to take it off?”

He nodded immediately, smiling as you fixed your arms so his hands could slip behind your back and quickly unclasp your bra with a quick flex of his fingers. You giggled as it quickly slipped off, his hands going around the band to finish tugging it off of your body, sitting up to suck at your skin. You gasped as his mouth sucked against your skin, hot and slippery as his tongue dragged over before sucking and digging his teeth into your skin. You gasped as his hands pushed between the both of you, squeezing and cupping your tits as you pressed kisses to his head.

“This something you’ve seen in those pornos, baby? Hm? Playboy magazines?”

He shook his head, grabbing your hips and laying you back against the couch as he stared at your now hickey littered form. “No, honey. This is what I’ve thought about every night for the last year. Thinking about making you mine over and over again.”

You gasped as his hands tugged at your bottoms, slipping into the band of your underwear and pulling them down as you lifted your hips for him to take them off. He stared at the string of arousal that came from your cunt to your underwear, the floral cloth pattern being thrown to the side as he ducked down to press kisses against your thighs.

You gasped as his teeth grazed your skin, his tongue flattening against your cunt making you whine loudly. “Y-You’ve never done this before, right?”

He shakes his head. “No, but I’ll learn. You tell me what feels good.”

You inhaled deeply, nodding as he ran his fingers down your slit, experimenting. He leaned forward, licking down your cunt and letting his nose tap against the hood of your slit and his tongue curl around your clit and his finger push against your entrance. He hummed, watching as your entrance greedily opened up for him, sucking his fingers into you and clamping down almost immediately.

A gasp fell from your lips as he pushed it in knuckle deep, your walls clamping down on him as your thighs spread wider, your hands pushing down as you held the back of his head. He thrusted his finger in and out of you, twisting to push another  finger in and curl them to push into that perfect spot. Your eyes rolled back, mouth falling open as he sucked on your clit, teeth nibbling on the bud before your nails dig into his scalp.

He could feel your walls clamping down on him, the sensitive ring of nerves tightening around the base of his knuckles, his eyes watching as spit gathered against the sensitive bud before spitting against your clit. It must’ve pushed you over the edge, a loud scream leaving your lips as your cunt convulsed around his fingers and your fingers tugged on his hair, thighs shaking as he pulled away from your clit to watch the spit fall down your cunt.

He stared as your pretty cunt convulsed when he pulled his fingers out, a whine leaving your lips as you buck your hips, your entrance fluttering as he sat back. He stared at you, your hazy eyes and your hickey littered form, everything that made you feel good was from him - everything was from him.

“Ethan, do we need a condom?” You whisper, staring up at him as he starts taking off his pants.

“Do you want me to get us one? It’ll take time baby, can you wait that long?” He knew you couldn’t wait that long, there was no way you could wait that long.

“P-Promise you’ll get me a pill?” You whisper, making him nod, smiling down at you as he pressed a firm kiss to your lips.

“I promise, baby.”

You gasped as his tip teased your entrance, whimpering as your arms wrapped around his neck and pulled him closer to you. “Fuck baby, it hurts. It hurts, it hurts!”

“Did I not stretch you out enough? Do you want me to stop, I can find lube? You have lube, right?” He was asking because he knew damn well that you had vibrators, so you had to have lube too.

“Y-Yeah, bottom drawer in my room, dresser.”

He couldn’t have run faster to your room, quickly digging into your drawer and grabbing the pink tube before running back out. Your fingers were pushed into your cunt, scissoring and thrusting inside of yourself with both hands as you whimpered. “Fucking hell, you never said you were thick and long.”

He laughed as you threw a leg over the couch, sitting in front of you before spitting into his hand and rubbing it up and down his shaft. “Still want the lube?”

“J-Just a bit,” you whisper, staring up at him. “Not too much.”

He quickly opens the lid, squirting some into his hand and the smell of cherries fill his nose. He laughed, smiling. “You’re just a cherry girl, aren’t you?”

You giggle, nodding. “Yeah.”

He spreads it onto his cock, keeping some on his fingers to push it into you. You gasped, whining as he pushed them in a few more times before pulling them out and pushing his tip to your cunt. Your eyes rolled back before snapping his hips forward, wiping them against your clothes on the floor before holding your thighs around his waist.

“Fuck baby, you’re so tight. So fucking tight, you’re perfect for me baby, so perfect. Like you were made for me, remember when you said that? Did you not say we were made for each other?”

You laughed, nodding. “Yes! Yes, I was made for you… and you were made for me. All for me.”

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© asterias-record-shop

[merlucide]

What’s their taste in music?

notes: playing around with sizing hehe-

characters: Barou, Sendou, Chigiri, Bachira, Reo, Oliver, Hiori, Otoya

barou shoei

classical music 100%

Cmon my dude mediates- how obvious does it needa be? I feel like piano would be his favorite but also really likes cello or other deep string instruments. He normally just puts on the default classical music playlists lmao. Though I do think he would like Red hot chilli peppers for some reason. Definitely hard no on metal or anything really with intense drums. He can’t stand the loud aggressive music, he thinks it’s unhinged and frenetic.

sendou shuto

sendou listens to rap cus he thinks it makes him cooler💀 I can see it so clearly omg- 

Listens to Eminem obviously, and his favorite song from him is rap god. His hype song is NEW ORLEANS by BROCKHAMPTON. He feels so badass listening to it lmao. Though what he really likes is pop, Brittney spears, Dua lipa, Lady Gaga, etc etc.

chigiri hyoma 

Okay I can see Chigiri liking a few types of music for like different moods yk.

I think he’d like XXXTENTACION, he listens to his more ‘intense’ songs when he runs. He likes YuNg BrAtZ, when he wants to listen to depressing music he likes Orlando. 

He’d like rock too, The white stripes and Nirvana would be his go toos.

When he’s getting really into his workout he puts on Disturbed and occasionally SlipKnot when he’s tryna push himself.

ALSO I CAN 100% SEEING HIM LISTENING TO SLEEP TOKEN?!? OMG YEAH???

(RIP XXX.)

bachira meguru

Hear me out okay.

Voicaloid. 

IK IK- I think Bachira would really like the fast pace and excitement in their songs. He just likes Hyperpop, it’s like an energy boost he don’t need anymore energy

His all time favorites are Rin Rin Signal and Poppippo.

ALSO THE LIVING TOMBSTONE. UGH HE WOULD LIKE THEM RIGHT???? Discord would be on loop 24/7 are u kidding me

mikage reo

I think that since he grew up classy n rich he’d listen to classical music and such. he really likes Violin/Viola. Listening to it brings him great comfort and peace. Reo really likes Jazz too. Obviously Reo explored other types of music to see what else there is .definitely did it as an act of ‘rebellion’ lmao-  He isn’t really a fan of metal or rock but likes Alt. I can see him listening to The neighborhood or Radiohead. He also likes Adele.

aiku oliver

likes the more chill stuff, like Noah Kahan or Big thief. He’s a pretty laid back guy and doesn’t feel the need to rage through music lmao- Though I can see him liking Chase Atlantic. And I know for a fact if you put on any cunty music he’d know all of the lyrics to the songs. Ayesha Erotica, Chase Icon, or even porn-ish singerslike cupcakke he’d know the words to em💀

hiori yo

..

death metal.

..

Like we talking cannibal corpse, the fallen prophecies, and on calm days, SlipKnot.

he gotta cope somehow ig😶

Like you could ask him what he’s listening too and expect him to listen to like Drake or sum and he’s like ‘oh I’m listening to Murderous Rampage by Cannibal Corpse’. 

.. 😶

Like dawg wut😭

otoya eita 

he’d listen to Drake, Lil Uzi Vert and Kanye West without doubt. 

Pls he’s the most basic, generic, un-unique ‘frat boy’ ever, of course he’d listen to them. He thinks he all hot stuff jamming out to em, all dripped out in his basic ass fit, and ugly beanie, ew. Ugh I hate this hoe🙄 (jk he’s bbg 🤭) also I’m not hating on any of these artists, I like their music- DONT TAKS NUFFIN PERSONAL PLS

lemme know if u wanna pt2 or whatever mkay

made March 17th 2024

[twodogs-twocats]

Sleep Token as Roomates

For whatever reason, my Sleep Token fixation has chosen to lodge itself in my brain in the form of a New Girl-esque scenario…

Translation: You and all four band members are roommates. Annnd there is definitely romantic tension with every one of them.

Content Warning: very little justification for any of this. Just my 🌈imagination🌈

POV: fem reader

Vessel:

- the one everyone thinks is in charge.

- the most fun one to do chores with. he will get them done, but have a good time along the way. car karaoke on the way to get groceries, dance parties in the kitchen while cooking, playing the floor is lava while vacuuming. he will always try to make you smile even during the most boring of tasks

- workout gear everywhere. he’s got a pull up bar installed above his door, where he does shirtless pull-ups every morning. you only watch sometimes…

- honestly, probably always shirtless in general

- the best smelling of the bunch. lights incense and candles on the reg

- always doing little things to impress you. like as soon as you come home, he starts playing piano, or doing pushups. and then will pretend he didn’t know you were home when he catches you watching

- likes to come up behind you. if you are standing at the kitchen counter, he will reach around you to grab something, with his chest pressed up against you. he uses his size to his advantage, and he gets the sense you like how big he is

- paints your nails sometimes. and sometimes wants you to paint his. black polish only

- a very good cook. often cooks family dinners

- a bit unhinged, but I could see vessel borrowing your clothes and jewelry. like going to bed in your tshirt or stealing some of your rings for his shows

- honestly, I just picture roommate vessel as a generally soft goof

II

- the one who’s actually in charge

- very clean and organized. keeps everyone else in line (if you know the show new girl, to me, II is a quieter, scarier Schmidt lol)

- he’s the best listener. when you have had a rough day, he will listen to you vent for hours. or if you need help making a decision, he will help talk you through it. he gives 100% attention to everything you say

- he will surprise you with finishing little chores for you. you’ll come home to a freshly washed car, or your laundry already folded

- a plant guy. always brings home plants and takes very good care of them. runs your little family garden

- morning person. this man is up at the crack of dawn and has already accomplished about a dozen things before anyone else is even up

- enjoys learning about your hobbies. if you are a reader, he wants to know what you’re reading. if you’re trying to learn something new, he will help you practice

- toxic trait is that he would be the most jealous if you ever brought someone home. like very openly hostile

- light touches. like he tries so hard to keep it platonic, but you’ll feel his hand on your back when he walks around you, or his fingers will linger on yours just too long if he hands you something

III

- the messiest of the bunch. like he will help out with cleaning, but if anyone is leaving laundry or dirty dishes around, it’s this man (often causes little spats with II)

- loud and fun. he is always singing, dancing, playing music. when you get home he will greet you with a big hug. his goal in life is to make you laugh

- likes to braid your hair. and you help him with his space buns

- takes the longest in the bathroom for sure. He enjoys regular bubble baths, and often teases you that you are welcome to join him

- when III’s energy has come down a bit, he is a master at chilling. Im talking movie nights with popcorn and candy, building blanket forts with lots of pillows. (he will sometimes try to sneak an arm around your shoulder. Not unusual for you two to end up *platonically* cuddling on the couch)

- the best dancer. You always bring him when you go out dancing or to a concert.

- the most openly flirty. will always compliment your outfits and tell you how beautiful you look.

- he will also find any way possible to touch you, even when it’s completely unnecessary — hugs when you come home, putting his hand on your knees when he’s talking to you, and occasionally even kissing you on the cheek. he especially loves to see you blushing and flustered

- tinkers with his guitar into the late hours of the night. the sound often puts you to sleep

IV

- the most “bro”-y of the roomates

- like the only one of you who will ever put sports on tv (and you all complain and tell him to put on something else)

- the house barista. makes great coffee and is very particular about his process.

- you like to take naps with IV. You both will pile on the couch and fall asleep watching some stupid comedy. you often end up with your head in his lap and his hand resting on your waist.

- has a bit of a staring problem. he is the most obvious one about checking you out, and he does not seem to care if you notice. when you get dressed up, he will give you a full head to toe scan, and then proceed to stare at you like he wants to eat you (and he probably does, of course)

- enjoys going on walks with you. might not say much, but he always has a good time

- adds lots of artistic touches to the home. buying art or cool knickknacks to add around the house. this man has excellent taste

- the most protective of you. makes sure he knows where you are at and who you’re with. installed a lock on your bedroom door so you could have some privacy. (but he kept a key for himself, you know, just in case)

Etc.

- you definitely have a black house cat, and II is definitely the cat’s favorite

- your living room has been taken over by musical instruments. there is always, always music playing in the house

- all the boys are great at comforting you when you are sad. I could see any one of them holding you while you cry

- big family movie nights. all the boys love movies, so you will all regularly get together to watch something

[cherrysurf]

Metanoia | Atsumu Miya X Reader

chapter 8; right side of my neck

You entered osamu’s apartment stomach empty and ready to be filled, “hey yn you’re lucky you got here just in time” he says with a light laugh and opens the door fully to let you in “ugh i’m starving thank you for cooking your so amazing” you say taking off your shoes and heading to the kitchen, as you and osamu sit down eating he asks “so ive been meaning to ask” he says looking up at you questionably “yeah what’s going on?” you say stuffing your mouth with rice oblivious to anything “so i’m sure you know but atsumu asked me for your number and i just wanted to see if he’s made any moves or anything on you” he responds. You choke on your rice in shock almost “no all he’s asked me for is some help on an assignment that i did last semester” you responded sorta sad at the fact atsumu has yet to make a move on you “well that’s good. Listen yn im not doing this to gatekeep you from my brother or anything but he’s just not in a good place for a relationship and i would hate to see either side get hurt. I care about you both and after seeing atsumu get cheated on by sydney and you not being token seriously by iwaizumi i just wouldn’t want to see you guys destroy each other.” he says bluntly, which has you quite taken aback because you hear quite little of this side of osamu that is serious and cares a lot but what can you do when you already feel some type of way for his brother. Nothing but sit in silence and respect what osamu has to say…or so that’s what you feel like right now. “i understand osamu you really care for your brother and you’re letting him go through his phase right now, and you care for me and you just don’t want to see me end up in that phase too.” you say sincerely, maybe it was time to put your feelings aside before they get bigger “and i’m not saying you guys can’t be friends, i’d think it would be good for you both just don’t get caught up in what he’s doing is all i ask” he says looking at you and then the food. “i guess my amazing personality needs to be shared with the other twin too” you say with a small giggle trying to easy the mood. As you both finish your lunch and osamu sends you with left overs for kiyoko, on your walk home your mind can’t help but drift off to atsumu and ushijima wondering what to do.

now as you lay in your bed ready to go to sleep you can’t help but think maybe it would be best to just try to be friends with atsumu, yet something makes you wonder how it would be like if you were more. Even just a little bit more than friends. Then your mind wanders off to ushijima and that situation you truly don’t know what to do, so you put it off besides tomorrow night you have to go to the art gallery with kiyoko and everyone else. You’re moving on to better distractions.

-this was long asfk to me for some reason

-yn still has no idea what to do with either of the men she’s involved with but wtv she’s only 20 after all

-late night post lol also means not proofread but when do i ever do that let’s be fr.

Taglist; @heartmaddie @liquidcatt @toorusfangirl @akaashislovee @saintcosette @twiishaa @w2mini @from-mae @exclusiverinaa @gumims

[gloomysarchive]

♡︎ Alphabet Soup Series ♡︎

abc headcanons || miles42 x black gn!reader

M} — move

he’d take so long to initially ask you out, but he’d do it romantically when he finally plucks up the courage. it's been hard for him to get close to someone ever since his dad died, so you'd have to be patient. he didn't know what to get you as a token of his affection. flowers? what if you were allergic? candy? What if you didn't like candy? So he went with something simple, something he did best; he gifted you a portrait he made of you. he played it off all cool like "it ain't even my best work fr" "i can do better than that, yk?" basically trying to prepare himself if you turned him down.

╰╴he's genuinely surprised when you don't reject him. he didn't show it, but he was happy as hell.

I} — interests

he wants to know what you like. he'll check out anything you put him on to, really. movies, shows, artists, books, etc. he'll listen to you rant and ramble about your interests, and he'll nod along, hanging onto every word like it's the most important thing he's ever been told — and he genuinely feels that way. he'll keep tabs on what you like, and give you updates like "oh i heard it's getting a second season", "i think that's getting an adaption, you tryna see it when it comes out?"

╰╴ also, if he sees anything remotely related to your interests, he'll buy it. he hates not knowing what to give people, which is another reason why he pays close attention to what you're into. he keeps all types of merch in his cart so he'll never run out of gift ideas.

L} — love

it'd take even longer for him to finally say "i love you". those three lil words carry a lot of weight to him, and he can't just be throwing them around like it's nothing. he wants to make sure he can trust you, if you're actually his and not just playing with him. once he does say it, tho, he'd be dramatic about it.

╰╴"I need to talk to you rq," "ok... what's up?"

he'd stare at you, silently, studying you for a bit as he tries to build up the courage. he'd take your hands in his, holding them tenderly. he'd give them a gentle squeeze — then, he'd say it.

╰╴♡︎ “Eres tan preciosa para mí. Te quiero...”

E} — emotions

he doesn't like being vulnerable; it takes a while for him to open up to you, but he eventually does, piece by piece. he'd tell you what he stresses about or his other hopes and dreams. he plans to get you and his mama away from all the chaos of the city.

╰╴and he's there for you just as much as you are for him. He listens patiently when you're ranting or venting about something that's bothering you. he waits until you're done talking and tries his best to calm you down after you get worked up and give you advice. other than “i should beat that bitch ass”, he gives really good advice.

S} — sleep

he INSISTS he never sleeps 🙄 he's always up at night doing his vigilante work, protecting what he loves (his city, his mama, you, ofc) but whenever does get the chance to get some rest in, it'd be with you. he'd stop by your place during one of his patrols, just to check on you. y'all would talk for a bit, just enjoying each other's company. then you'd notice how low and hazy his eyes are, and how he's dragging his words a bit.

╰╴"i got shit to do, I can't be tryna go to bed n shit," "i'm not sayin' go to bed, you can take a lil hour nap..." after going back and forth for a while he'd finally give in, with reluctance, flopping onto your bed. he's out almost immediately, clutching you tight as if someone would take you from him while he's asleep.

bear w me y'all I haven't written in a lil bit LMAO

[hottpinkpenguin]

Reasons, Ch.6 - Cassian Andor series

Female reader insert Summary: You're a droidsmith on Ferrix when a handsome stranger walks in one day with a hopelessly damaged droid. You agree to take on the repairs for the stranger, a decision that will change the direction of your lives forever. Word Count: 2,260 Content Warnings for: canon-divergence; cursing Taglist: @mithicakurogo @nonniecannie @freerangesweets @zbeez-outlet @chicken-fifi @queerponcho @theatergirlmgm @oh-yeah-i-exist @shakespeareanlead @idontevenknow1359

The sound of waves licking the sandy beach below had become a steady soundtrack that pounded around your head all hours of the day and night. You’d at first been mesmerized by the planet Niamos - to think, its inhabitants lived within full eyesight of an ocean at all times - but now, almost three and a half months after your frenetic arrival, boredom mixed with fear had gotten inextricably mixed with the sounds and smells of the ocean and you realized that you hated it here. Especially without Cassian.

He hadn’t stayed long, maybe two days. He’d dumped you in this beautiful, empty house and left with barely a word…

“I need to see my contact on Coruscant.” His dark eyes were red-rimmed from lack of sleep and cold. “Need to sort out safe passage for you. Get forged papers, new documents. It’ll take a while.”

You’d breathed in a heavy, long breath. Exhaustion had settled deep in the center of your bones, but what choice did you have? You were a fugitive now.

You nodded numbly, looking longing out through the perpetually-open wall of glass at the ocean stretched out to the horizon line. 

“I’ll go pack,” you replied, sliding out of the chair you were in and heading towards the bedroom you were staying in. “Won’t take long.”

Cassian caught your hand as you turned away. His touch sent electricity ricocheting up your arm, stealing your breath. You turned back to him, wondering if you looked as hopeful as you felt. 

“I’m going alone,” he clarified. His voice sounded sad and far away, but those dark, bottomless eyes revealed nothing. 

You didn’t know what to say. What to ask. Where would you stay? Here, you supposed, only because there was nowhere else to go. You’d realized very quickly that the Galaxy was massive, and you’d never left Ferrix before. The only person that you knew out here was Cassian, and laying claim to ‘knowing’ him felt like a lie. You felt that now more than ever. You didn’t really know him at all. 

You felt yourself give a shrug. Half resignation, half confusion. Cassian watched you quietly as you slid back into the chair, your eyes returning to the waves. Each time a new wave boiled up from the ocean depths, crested, and then crashed in a spray of foam on the seashore, you felt a new emotion rise up and crash open inside you. Grief. Rage. Despair. Terror. 

You don’t know how long you’d sat there, staring at the sea. After a long while of sitting still and thinking, you said the only thing that really mattered to you anymore. “Don’t forget to come back for me.”

Cassian hadn’t said a word after that. He’d simply slipped out the door without so much as a backwards glance. Leaving you to the empty house that looked out over the empty ocean…

The realization that Cassian wasn’t coming back for you had hit you somewhere around week seven. He hadn’t left a way for you to contact him, or vice versa. He hadn’t sent anyone to check on you. He hadn’t squirreled away a secret note or some small token of his remembrance. It was like he’d never been here at all. And that was by design. He was covering his tracks. Sure, you were on the run. But so was he. 

You wondered where in the escape things had gone sideways. He’d seemed so deliriously guilty about getting you tied up with the Empire when he’d broken into your home on Ferrix. He’d been tender in taking care of you after hyperdrive sickness, and then he’d brought you here. To safety. Because he cared… right?

There was one moment that everything had pivoted. You could barely bring yourself to think of it. Your cheeks burned with embarrassment (and desire, if you were completely truthful) each time you relived that kiss. It had to be the kiss. You’d crossed a line, you told yourself. Cassian was just trying to save your skin, and you’d gone and made it some sort of tragedy-romance mashup of bad luck and bad decisions when you’d slapped your lips on his. I’ve always been a good actor. You’d never forget those words. He’d been acting as the good guy, trying to make up for his wrongs by pulling you out of Ferrix. But that’s where it had ended. You’d fallen for his show, and you’d ruined everything. And now, you were alone. Just you and the ocean. 

Three and a half months was a long time to be by yourself. You’d managed to get by on the credits you’d had the sense to pack before fleeing your home, but that supply was dwindling. Pretty soon you’d have to make a choice: go home, or set up shop here. You’d have to fix droids. It was all you knew. But setting up shop somewhere new was bound to be fraught with challenges. You didn’t know the market, didn’t have a customer base. There were bound to be other droidsmiths on Niamos, so you’d be making enemies while you were bowing and scraping, taking whatever anyone would throw at you, all in the name of buying trust and goodwill and maybe, hopefully, a repeat customer. 

But worst of all, setting up shop here felt final. Setting up shop here meant that you wouldn’t be leaving. That this was home now. And, at the end of the day, that meant that Cassian wasn’t coming back. 

You hated him for leaving you, but not enough to give up all hope. Not yet. You counted the credits you had left. One more week, you thought to yourself. If he’s not back by then, I’ll start looking for shop space. 

An empty promise, you knew. You’d made the same one for the last four weeks.

* * * * * * * * *

Cassian felt fire burning in his veins as he held Senator Mothma’s gaze, her last words hanging heavy in the darkness between them. 

“I cannot afford to wait another week,” Cassian growled through gritted teeth, his hands trembling at his side. “It’s been almost four months already, Senator.”

Senator Mothma fidgeted uncomfortably with the large hood that obscured her face from the ambient light of a Coruscant night. They were quite alone in the rancid-smelling alley that Cassian had chosen for their meet-up, but the hum of the city-planet rang in their ears. A reminder to be quick, and be on their way. 

“I’m sorry, Cassian, I truly am, but I simply canno-”

“Senator, with respect, I am tired of your apologies.” Cassian was pacing now, his voice breaking free of the constraints of whispering. His temper was fracturing with impatience. “My contact on Niamos is in constant danger, and you’ve kept us waiting for four months for papers!”

“Cassian, please.” The Senator cast a shifty glance around. No one was listening, but the last thing either of them needed was to make a spectacle of the exchange. A Senator caught in a clandestine midnight meeting with a known Rebellion agitator would do neither of them any good. To say nothing of the warrant for Cassian’s arrest and the bounty price of half a million credits on his head. Or the Senator’s deeply scrutinized allegiances and alleged ties to the Aldhani incident. 

Cassian tried to calm himself, but he was beyond reason. All he could see was your eyes, the way you’d crumpled when he’d told you he was coming to Coruscant alone. It had nearly broken him to leave you there, but the brutal calculus of life as a wanted criminal demanded the utmost adherence to scruples. Cassian couldn’t risk your life just to keep you near him. It would have been easy - too easy - to delude himself into thinking that the safest place for you was by his side. Right where he wanted you. But he’d already proven himself near-fatal to you, almost getting you good and shot on Ferrix just by trying to pay off his massive debt with some traced credits. And all that had been before that goddamned kiss. After that, he was sunk. Totally enraptured. He knew it from the instant he felt your lips on his. No, he was in far too deep. If it was the last thing he did, Cassian Andor meant to make good on his promise to you: he needed to get you set up somewhere safe and then make it so that you never saw him again. It was the best way - the only way - he could see to keep you safe. And as badly as he wanted you, he wanted you alive. More than anything, that was what mattered. 

He reminded himself of all of this, one painstaking bitter pill at a time. Slowly, incrementally, he felt the fire begin to burn off as his mind cleared to reason. When he finally felt calm enough to speak, he rounded on Senator Mothma.

“Senator, it gives me no pleasure to do this, but I simply cannot wait any longer. If I don’t have the papers I’ve requested - and paid for, mind you - by tomorrow, I’ll have to take matters in my own hands.” 

Senator Mothma inhaled, her chin jutting out proudly as her eyes simmered. “And just what does that mean, Cassian?” Puffed up and haughty, but Cassian saw a flicker of fear in the back of her eyes. She knew a threat when she heard one. And Cassian had been honest about one thing: it really didn’t give him any pleasure to play this hand with the Senator. She was a noble woman, strong in her beliefs and an astoundingly deft political operative. Smart and confident. Cassian respected her immensely. But, when all was said and done, she was proving to be a hindrance. Cassian had promises to fulfill. Or rather, promise. Singular. Your safety. He was determined that nothing - not the Senator’s delicate political situation, not an outstanding warrant for his arrest, not an entire garrison of Imperial Storm Troopers - would stand in his way.

“Let’s hope you don’t have to find out, Senator.” 

For a few tense seconds, the two of them sized each other up in the hazy darkness. Cassian’s gaze was steely, his resolve never stronger. Three months, three weeks, two days. His internal clock screeched like a tea kettle. Too long. 

After a few breaths, Senator Mothma deflated slightly, her head sagging on her proud neck. The way she crumpled, like a kite that’s lost its breeze, reminded Cassian of the way you’d looked as he’d left you alone by the seashore on Niamos. The memory brought the threat of tears to his eyes. 

“I’ll get them to you,” the Senator agreed. Her voice sounded stretched and thin. Cassian felt a pang of guilt for having to push her to this. He knew what she was risking - her career in the Senate, her daughter’s and husband’s safety, her own life - to get these forged identichips. Ever since the Empire had assumed power, identichips had become mandatory for Imperial citizens to carry at all times. Forged chips had quickly flourished as one of the most lucrative corners of the black market, but the Empire had expended considerable effort on quashing that enterprise in its infancy. Those willing to alter identichips were few and far between now; those willing to forge entirely new ones, even fewer. Only the very wealthy had enough credits to realistically purchase such a service, but forgers made themselves extremely scarce in efforts to avoid Imperial imprisonment. Not that Cassian blamed them - wasn’t that the fate he was trying to save you from, after all? - but their secretiveness had proven an unexpected time suck on his plans. Months had dragged by before Senator Mothma had even made contact with one, and now her order hadn’t been delivered on schedule. Cassian wasn’t sure what it would cost her to extort the identichips tonight, but he couldn’t allow himself to backtrack now. 

“Thank you.” He exhaled heavily, unsure if he felt relieved or more terrified than before. He’d been focusing for so long on getting the identichips that he hadn’t let himself think too hard on what would come after. Were you still on Niamos? Would you still want his help? Had the Empire found you? Were you still alive at all?

Unwilling to follow those thoughts any further, Cassian simply handed Senator Mothma a small strip of paper with a ship’s name and docking location scribbled on it. “I’m leaving at midday tomorrow,” he told her as she crumpled the paper and slipped it into the pocket of her robe. “Make sure my chips are on board by then.” 

She nodded again - a sad, completely exhausted acquiescence - and turned on her heels, vanishing into the foggy street. Cassian watched as she left, listening to the sound of her retreating footsteps. She was walking away with the power to make or break him, Cassian realized. If she didn’t deliver those chips, and Cassian couldn’t get back to you… 

He wasn’t sure what that would mean for him, except that his heart turned to ash in his chest whenever he thought of that possibility. Steeling himself against the mix of dread, relief, and adrenaline sitting on his shoulders, he turned the collar up on his coat and turned in the opposite direction from the Senator. He threw up a silent thought for you - all alone by the seaside in a beautiful, empty house - hundreds of thousands of miles away, but somehow still the closest thing he had to home.

*more chapters coming soon! please let me know if you'd like to be tagged for future chapters

[ithinkabouttzu]

hiii can you do ateez react to when your on your period :)

I really like your writing btw, it's really in character I think

Ateez reaction to you getting your period ｡･:*˚:✧｡

Genre: Romance; fluff

warnings: none

description: The members of Ateez reaction to you (their s/o) getting your period while being with them.

Hongjoong: He’s so soft and protective with you. He will literally do anything if you ask him too. He just wants to make sure you’re completely token care of, getting you heating pads and good snacks. Not to mention if anyone is getting on your nerves he will tell them off SO quick.

Seonghwa: He just melts seeing you in pain (not in a good way) He will become your personal assistant, getting you iced coffee, watching your favorite movie with you, consoling you when you get sad, he’s so sweet, just let him hold you softly and it will feel so nice. Will try and sing you to sleep or tell you a story so you can sleep better.

Yunho: Will try to give you lots of massages and try different certain types of teas and things like that to help with your cramps. He makes sure that you take it easy and just rest. Getting you snacks and a comfy pallet on the couch so that you will stay rested and relaxed. His bear hugs are somehow so much better when you aren’t feeling good too.

Yeosang: He’s your calm helper, rubbing your back, turning on your show, cleaning the sheets and blankets making them all nice for you to sleep in. He even buys one of those nice nice heating pads so that you feel comfortable when you sleep and your cramps don’t hurt as much. He’s so soft and gentle when you’re on your period it’s adorable.

San: He lowkey gets a little scared when he sees how unpredictable you can get while on your period. He tries his best to be silly and make you laugh though. He takes care of you so well! Doing anything that you ask him to and just being there when you need it. When he buys you pads he’ll ask, “What size is your 😺” LOL

Wooyoung: Tries his best not to get on your nerves lol. But he’s sweet for real tho, he even calls your mom and asked for the recipe for you favorite home cooked meal, you’ll walk into the kitchen to see him STRUGGLING with your mom’s familiar voice in the background. Let’s just say you had to help him not burn the whole kitchen down.

Mingi: Doesn’t really know what to do, but he’s a sweet baby that’s willing to do anything to see your cramps go away :( He HATES seeing you sad and frustrated over your period and he just wants to make it all go away (literally, for 9 months even LOL) I think he’d make you a cute “Menstrual cycle good bag” If you ever saw one of those and it’d have all ur fav snacks and everything.

Jongho: He’s very understanding, if you are getting frustrated with no reason, he’ll just comfort you quietly, and he is very patient when your emotions get all out of hand. You don’t ever have to worry about doing anything yourself when he’s over and you are on your period. He’ll be your personal maid for the rest of the week. He will run you a nice bath and get you some essential oils that are supposed to help with cramps (he’s really just a sweet grandma when ur on ur period)

Thank you sm for your request lovely! Hope u enjoy 💌💌