#indulge me u bastards

[feline-evil]

Blinks cutely. I finally finished my MTL OC that i've had brewing in my head for a while. Lineart was done by my beloved @subsequentibis who really helped me out while i can't draw too much or often!!! <3 Transcript of text AND a lil height ref below!!

JAX He/Him 32 5ft 7 Ex-bassist for a goth-rock band. Gay trans man. Running solely on caffeine and alcohol. Over-anxious and stressed. Needs a month long sleep and so many vitamin supplements..... Smells bad. Has a lip scar from a piercing getting torn out at a rowdy show. Height/scale ref feat a redraw of Nathan in my style teehee. (Nathan is supposed to be like 6ft 5 here, that's my headcanon height for him. And yeah, yes, i did make Jax up to ship w him bc its fuuuuuuun :3 )

[angeart]

Well now I just wanna know even more about your ocs and their story! xD Even before all the spooky stuff, Raven being placed in the middle of someone else's life and there's pressure to remember people and things he doesn't... And the watch, is that significant, what happens if Raven makes it to new years (hopefully with his sanity intact)? And what is up with this universe's Raven that just 'ah the amnesia hit him again' ?

And what did Rei do to get people that pissed at him? And but is he still trying to look out for Raven even if he acts like he's not?

-🎀

ribbon anon, you have no idea how happy these questions make me.

there's not a lot of pressure on raven to remember things he doesn't, because everyone around knows he gets these amnesia spells. it's still tough on him because he has to navigate this world anyway, and it lets people be dismissive of him. because—there's no reason to make friends with someone who's bound to forget you in a couple of weeks or months anyway, right? (it also gives a green card to be a shit. he won't remember!) (fun morality dilemmas right there.)

he's entirely lost, made to "play family" with people he doesn't know, live in an appartment that's wholly unfamiliar to him yet he's meant to call it his home, and whenever he steps outside, he has to deal with all these strangers looking at him knowingly while they don't know anything about him, actually. and on top of that there's the voices and shadows and mirror reflections...

add in him being worried about evia as she gets close to rei, because he isn't yet sure what kind of person rei is. and then later on kye telling him he needs to stay away from rei. (that they both do; him and evia. especially evia.) that raven should help them bring rei down—

except. kye's words come at a time when raven's already experienced the cracks in rei's masks. they come at a time when raven's beginning to be acutely aware that rei cares and he's hurting.

and now raven has to decide who to trust and side with, caught in the middle of it all.

... so let's talk about rei.

rei is meant to be a troublemaker, this uncaring character who only cares only about himself... and yet this caregiver role is thrust upon him, where he has to also (begrudgingly) make sure raven's okay whenever he forgets things, right? he's tired of this cycle. tired of doing the same things over and over pointlessly.

i had lots of notes on their childhood and young rei leading to how rei got to be like this, and why. but if you want to know about The Incident that so fiercely set nick against rei... well.

rei used to have a girlfriend. and they were young and stupid, and it was a little bit toxic.

ok, very toxic.

see, rei often felt like he's not paid a lot of attention, and he isn't as loved as raven is. that he has to actively take, whereas it always felt to him like raven is just given things. like he always had something to compete and fight for.

and so when he got into this relationship, he really just dug his nails into the idea that he's now wanted and needed. that this was his.

it was possessive, and controlling, and bad.

it ended on a cliffside in a tragic accident.

rei was trying to prove something. like an idiot that he was. she was trying to leave, and he was trying to insist she needed him, cornering her near the edge as they fought.

he tried to grab her, but she fell anyway.

kye and nick were witnesses, and from far away, it looked like rei pushed her.

from kye's recounting of events, it isn't clear if she survived or not. what is searing, though, is the idea that rei never got any kind of backlash from it. he never got punished. he never stopped treating people like shit, making him a ticking time bomb until it happens again. because he hasn't learned his lesson.

nick wants to teach him that lesson, by any means necessary. even if those means are equally as bad as what he thinks rei did. (to be fair, nick is also a little psycho who enjoys people's suffering and power, soo—) (it's kye who's going into this thinking they can do it right.) (it's kye who's begging raven to help them. to go against rei. to let rei feel some consequences; to teach him that people aren't toys or possessions.)

(rei knows these things.)

here's a fun little note i have on rei:

Rei’s choice to be a troublemaker (to fight, physically, with the world around him) was his way of dealing with the things inside of him. But he never wanted that little sphere of destruction to reach anyone else. He never imagined it would ever affect anyone but himself.

[incendiorum-arch]

I'm not actually caught up on drafts and asks but I'm also THE most caught up on drafts and asks I've been in years. I'm so pumped. I could benchpress a truck rn

[ariaste]

So excited to announce my next book, YIELD UNDER GREAT PERSUASION, coming out on September 17th! If you've never read any of my books before, no worries--this is a standalone, so you can jump right in without any extra context. (The stunning cover art is by the amazingly talented @holographings -- go check out all his other art!)

"Alongside the sexiness and absurdity (and the sexy absurdity) in Yield Under Great Persuasion is a tender, resonant story of second and third chances and being loved when we need it most and feel we deserve it least. Evocative, emotional, and endlessly entertaining." —Jules Arbeaux, author of Lord of the Empty Isles

SUMMARY:

Tam Becket has hated Lord Lyford since they were boys. The fact that he’s also been sleeping with the man for the last ten years is irrelevant. When they were both nine years old, Lyford smashed Tam’s entry into the village’s vegetable competition. Nearly twenty years later, Tam still hasn’t forgiven the bastard. No one understands how deeply he was hurt that day, how it set a pattern of small disappointments and misfortunes that would run through the rest of his life. Now Tam has reconciled himself to the fact that love and affection are for other people, that the gods don’t care and won’t answer any of his prayers (not even the one about afflicting Lyford with a case of flesh-eating spiders to chew off his privates), and that life is inherently mundane, joyless, and drab. But then, the very last straw: Tam discovers that Lyford (of all people!) bears the divine favor of Angarat, the goddess Tam feels most betrayed and abandoned by. In his hurt and anger, Tam packs up and prepares to leave the village for good. But the journey doesn’t take him far, and Tam soon finds himself set on a quest for the most difficult of all possible prizes: Self care, forgiveness, a second chance... and somehow the unbelievably precious knowledge that there is at least one person who loves Tam for exactly who he is—and always has.

This book might be for you if:

You like enemies-to-lovers but you think it would be improved by being a one-sided situationship, and meanwhile the other person is living through a "hopelessly yearning for childhood crush" trope

you like it when two people are so, so, so stupid that they've been fucking for 10 years and Person A hasn't figured out that Person B is in love with him, and Person B hasn't realized that Person A doesn't even know about his feelings

You know how fucking hard it is to Do The Work In Therapy and you want some catharsis about it

you want to read about an imperfect, truly difficult person who still gets loved, because being perfect is not a requirement to deserve affection and care

you know that merely saying sorry for wronging someone doesn't just magically take away the bad feelings and automatically repair the relationship, and you want to read about someone having to do the extra steps that come after the apology

this one's for the wlw: fat harvest goddess milf. my gift to u

you like gods who don't have anything better to do than stick their noses into human business

when you see a gorgeous man holding an infant, it takes you out at the knees

you like queernorm fantasy AND small-town gossip, and you find the intersection of the two delicious and intriguing

a religion based on pre-Christian Brythonic England. That is, they've got henges and standing stones instead of churches and altars. it's cool

plant magic!!!!!

"god of temptation and evil"? No, actually that's the god of self-indulgence, self-care, personal boundaries, and taking responsibility for the consequences you consented to.

You can preorder it in ebook, hardback, and paperback from most retailers (with more coming soon), but if you'd like to order an autographed copy from me directly, just fill out this form! :) Signups for autographed copies close on August 31st, so hurry hurry hurry if you want to nab yours!

(Signal boosts are very much appreciated! 🙏)

[iuchamjohta]

Leave these woman alone ft Yuna

1400 words

Notes: Hi anon thanks for your request, since it’s sent through the request box 😊 here’s a story dedicated for you. Also I will do Yuna justice with a better fic eventually don’t worry! (Yes this is a mix of shade and partial smut i guess) Did'nt proof read this thing cause it aint worth my time. For those who wants to read for the smut you can ignore the first two and last two paragraphs they arent for u but specially for my dear requester XD

First person POV of anon:

My name is Anon. I work a standard 9-5 job and have been doing so for 30 years. I’m a single and have never dated. Everyday I get scolded by my boss but I turn a deaf ear to it , just going through the motion of my routine life. Things however get exciting once I get home. I can induldge in my deepst darkest fantasies.

You see while on the surface, I'm a white knight in shiny armor, beneath that, I'm a self-righteous hypocritical man, living a double life. I've got an entire collection dedicated to Yuna, my ultimate bias, stashed away in a folder on my laptop, hidden deep within a secret folder, safely encrypted with a password only I know. It's my little haven, my sanctuary—a place where I can indulge in my wildest fantasies, free from judgment. I mean, who doesn't have their celebrity crushes, right? But for me, it's more than just a crush. Yuna is my fantasy. She's the one who makes me question my self-control.

The room is dimly lit, perfect for what I have in mind. I pull up a recent fancam from her solo performance.. There she is, in a low-rise jeans that showcased her hourglass figure, strutting across the stage with sheer confidence. The camera zeroes in on her for a solo performance, the lucky bastards in the audience probably have no idea how fucking lucky they are. Her eyes glint with confidence, as if seducing me and sending a wave of anticipation through my body. I bite my lip, feeling my dick twitch in anticipation. It's one of those days when I crave a release, a day dedicated to worshipping her perfect body.

Yuna is everything I want and more. Her magnetic aura draws me closer to the screen as she seductively sways to the music. Every curve of her body is sculpted by the gods themselves. I zoom in, wanting to explore every inch of her, starting from her face. Her huge eyes, her full lips that always look succulent, begging for me to take them. Her skin, pale in complextion that glows under the stage lights. I'd kill to know what she smells like, if she tastes as sweet as she looks. Her long legs they begged to be worshipped.

Her hair, cascading in soft waves, frames her face, occasionally whipping her forehead as she moves, making my fingers itch to run through it, to feel its silkiness between my fingertips. Her crop top reveals just the right amount of skin and her incredibly sexy midriff. They hug her chest tightly. I imagine pinching those rosy nipples, already knowing from countless fantasies that they'd harden instantly. The thought sends a jolt of lust straight to my cock.

The camera follows her every move, and she's teasing the fans mercilessly. She bends down, the low-rise jean - hugging every inch of her toned thighs and plump ass, highlighting the perfect hour glass figure. God, her ass! It's a work of art, rounded and firm, a sight that has me gripping my cock, stroking slowly as I imagine sinking my face into that soft flesh. The way she reveals her cleavage, The way her muscles flex under those jeans makes my mouth go dry. She knows what she's doing, the little tease. Each flick of her hips is a silent invitation to something forbidden.

As the song progresses, so does my hand on my shaft. I can't stop picturing her riding me, those long, toned legs wrapped around my waist. Her abs clench and relax with each provocative move, the sight alone nearly pushing me over the edge. The sweat glistening on her skin, the way it would feel slick under my palms as I hold her hips, grinding into me, fuck, it consumes me. I want to be the reason for her sweat, for her moans.

The performance builds up, and so does my pace. My breathing quickens, mirroring her heavy pants as if we're in sync. I can imagine the lust matching my own as she moves her hair behind her back, giving me a perfect view of her slender neck and the pulse point that makes my mouth water. A collarbone looks so defined and my hands would look so fucking perfect there, pushing her down unto my cock. My cock twitches, the thought of owning this goddess in the bedroom flooding my mind. I want to see her—no, I need to see her submissive side, her begging for more, on her knees, her pretty eyes pleading for me to take control.

I can't resist the urge anymore. I pause the video at the part where she's bending forward offering an eyeful of her cleavage and a hint of her flat stomach. The image fills the screen,  letting me examine every detail. From her perfect breast that I imagine running my tongue all over, to her navel, a shallow indent, a tempting destination for my tongue. I'd work my way downward, hearing her whimpers as I trace patterns on her sensitive skin, marking her with love bites along the way until I reach her wet core. With my other hand, I reach for the lube, needing more sensation. I coat my fingers and continue imagining my tongue's path, heading south past her navel to the place she craves attention. I'd tease her, running my fingers through her wetness, finding her clit, driving her wild. And when she's close, I'd sink two fingers into her, feeling her heat, her tightness, while I suck on that perfect neck, leaving my mark. Her moans would fill the room, echoing off the walls, telling me she's mine.

But, Yuna she's a master at denying satisfaction. The clip cuts just as I can see her biting her lip, probably holding back a moan. That's when my stroking gets wilder. I jerk off fiercely, imagining her on all fours, that ass in the air, begging for my cock. In my mind, I'd stand behind her, taking in the view before delivering hard thrusts, the sound of skin slapping skin filling the room. She loves rough, I know that much. I want to spank that ass, watch it jiggle with each impact, watch her pussy squeeze my dick, milking me.

"Fuck, Yuna," I groan, my vision blurring as pleasure spikes. I see her looking over her shoulder, those eyes half-lidded, knowing she's craving it harder. In my fantasy, I'd tug her hair, making her submit, taking her like an animal. I increase the pace, my balls tightening, then I would reach my peak, exploding with sensation. I come violently, coating my hand and the screen, wishing it was her that I coated instead.

Panting, I lean back, my heart hammering in my chest as I relish the aftermath. The image of her winking at the camera as she says her farewells plays in my head, and I know I'll be back for more—she's my addiction. Cleaning up, a satisfied smile on my face, I wonder if she has any idea the effect she has on me, if she knows she just gave me the best fucking handjob ever. Little does she know, this 'nobody' behind the screen is more than willing to show her how good it could be in reality.

Maybe one day, she won't just be a fantasy, but until then, I'll keep worshipping her on my screen.

Then with this guilty pleasure, I find the need to claim her as mine and "protect" her. Going unto forums, I tell myself I have to put back on my knight in shiny armour image! Telling everyone else to leave all these woman alone especially Yuna.

To me pornography is okay, I have fapped to many of it, nor do I see the need to email all these pornographic companies on what they are doing though more damaging is wrong. Other sexual fantasies are okay, but when it comes to others fantasising about my idols, I have to be defensive since they are my life even though I would never reach them. This is me, a double standard hypocritical white knight, a nameless nobody in my life. Nonetheless, this secret is safe with me, and as long as I live, I shall continue to remain self-righteous on the outside while indulging in my secret fantasies.

Thanks for your request once again! Yes me being an internet troll, anyways not the best smut I have written I apologise. Okay fuck now I actually need to do justice by releasing a proper Yuna fic . Please send ideas for req on Yuna guys a one time offer that the best idea gets it’s fic written on her.

[caligvlasaqvarivm]

points at u. how do u play eridan so well!!! hes such a tricky bastard to write for 4 some reason

It's because he's got so many problems and playing him is basically Mental Illness Simulator :') Whipped up a small (that's a lie, it's large and extensive) guide under the cut

ERIDAN DOES NOT HAVE FUN

First most important thing about playing Eridan: THIS BOY DOES NOT DO JOKES. He does NOT DO BITS. He does NOT HAVE FUN. If you check out his logs, pretty much every time he talks to somebody, he has a very clear purpose in mind (usually flirting or grandstanding). One of the few times he does strike up a conversation without a clear goal in mind, it's absolutely disastrous:

CA: fef CA: hey CC: ? CA: glub CC: Glub glub! CC: 38) CA: yeah CA: hm CC: W)(at is it!!! CA: wwhat

He's sooooooo so so so bad at conversation. He doesn't tell jokes. He doesn't know how to lighten the mood. He has no chill. He has no sense of humor. When playing him, if you are making jokes, you are doing it wrong!

The reason for this is because, psychologically, you have to imagine that he is constantly teetering on the edge of a murderous freakout. If he is not, at all times, Being Useful (AKA murderous, sea dweller-y), then Something Bad Will Happen. His entire life is about duty, pressure, responsibility, and, accordingly, at ALL TIMES, he feels an extreme, anxious weight on his shoulders, which makes him incapable of indulging in "frivolous" behavior, like making smalltalk or doing things for fun. In fact, sarcasm and facetiousness are literally considered childish by Alternians, and Equius associates it with lower blood colors:

CT: D --> Humorous insincerity is for pedantic wigglers AG: Pshhhhhhhh, I know! I know you never make jokes. I was the one 8eing sarcastic, you stooge! AG: I was 8eing sarcastic a8out you 8eing sarcastic. Duh. CT: D --> That's because you're a little worse than me

That's why it's also kind of important to make him not really have hobbies. Eridan DOES have interests: he loves wizards and magic, and he's a hipster. HOWEVER, he only ever talks about magic in pursuit of some other goal, like finding a date or winning at a rivalry, AND he's constantly denying his own interest in these things, because they're frivolous, stupid, ridiculous, and deviations from what he "should" be like. He actively distances himself from things that make him happy. In fact, we only know he's a hipster because it's part of his design and Karkat mentions it once - Eridan himself has never talked about it. That's how far he's buried anything that actually brings him joy.

If your Eridan is smiling for ANY REASON, you are DOING IT WRONG!

While we're on the topic, things Eridan is NOT ACTUALLY INTERESTED IN:

History (he only ever talks about history in the vaguest possible terms; I think he is book smart and genuinely knows a lot ABOUT history, but his actual interest in it is middling. He's just expected to be really obsessed with history, especially military history, as a member of the aristocracy, and he reads it in the same way as one doomscrolls on twitter - it's a way for him to self-reinforce his own mental illness and soothe his cognitive dissonance)

Marine life/marine anything (he's TERRIFIED of the ocean, and has spent a few days underwater TOTAL. He knows nothing of the sea.)

Weaponry (he HAS a lot of guns, so he definitely knows how to use and maintain them, but there's a reason he outsources the building of all his doomsday devices. Also, he got a "god weapon" early on in his life, and has kind of just been... using that. He neither has a need to know much about weaponry, nor has ever displayed any particular interest or knowledge. He leaves fully loaded harpoons just lying around on the floor of his house. It's knowledge of necessity, not interest.)

Hunting/Violence/Murder (he's really good at it, he knows a lot about it, he will teach you on request, he will mention it constantly, but he doesn't actually derive any particular joy out of it, especially since we know his thought process after each kill is "that's going to make an orphaned troll very sad. they will be culled soon :/")

Fashion (he has more of an interest than the average Alternian, but it's still not a lot. He dresses up to emulate Dualscar, and his actual clothing choices beyond that are pretty disastrous. Canon Eridan has never shown an interest in fashion. Even if you do want to play him with an interest in fashion, which I think is fine, you have to remember that he deliberately distances himself from anything that brings him joy, so even if he likes fashion, he'll keep that a secret and insist he only does it for utility purposes.)

Pale Romance (just throwing this in there, it's the one quadrant he is *never* shown to pursue. He's tried Feferi and Nepeta in flushed, Sollux, Terezi, and Kanaya in ashen, and Rose and Vriska in pitch. if anything, he goes out of his way to AVOID pale romances, both because he just had a painful pale breakup, and because he freaks out at the implication that he's weak in any way, which pursuing a pale romance would all but be admitting)

The thing that makes playing Eridan so hard, I think, is that he's abjectly fucking miserable, BY CHOICE, and for most RPers, playing a character who's abjectly fucking miserable kind of goes against the appeal of RPing in the first place (that is, having fun). All of the things he says he's really into are things that he either has no interest in, or that actively make his life less enjoyable. All the things he spends all his time thinking about are things that make him feel anxious and hopeless. All the things he actually likes and would have fun with are the things he actively, deliberately, and loudly decries and suppresses.

So that's point 1: Eridan does NOT have fun.

ERIDAN IS AGGRO AS *FUCK*

The next most thing I see that trips people up is that they make Eridan too friendly, usually as an extension of accidentally giving him too much chill. There are two main factors here at play: the first is that he's desperately trying to be a violent, casteist, oppressive, dangerous sea dweller, and outright pushes that image, and the second is that he's really fucking anxious ALL THE TIME, and most peoples' sociability goes down when they feel the cold breath of the reaper on the backs of their necks 24/7.

When looking at the 4 responses to danger - fight, flight, freeze, and fawn - Eridan will overwhelmingly choose "fight," with "fawn" as his secondary option. This makes absolute sense in context: all his trauma comes from its inescapable nature - if he tries to run from his duties, everybody dies; if he freezes up and fails to complete them, everybody dies. Therefore, his only two options are to Fight, and to channel that violent response into completing his duties, and to Fawn, to capitulate to the things that are hurting him - much moreso the former than the latter. Unfortunately, that bleeds over into everything else. Great!

We can see this illustrated really well in his conversations with Kanaya: Eridan does not ask for favors or help, he makes demands:

CA: kan make her talk to me do somethin ... CA: so help me out tell her to talk to me i think she blocked me you got to

ERIDAN: you should of told me about this ERIDAN: if theres goin to be any sort a hope for our race as the prince of hope i demand to be invvolvved ERIDAN: so dont go anywwhere wwithout me got it

The only time he ever really backs off is in confessions, where he's willing to be like "hey, I think we really got something here, don't you think so?", or when talking to Karkat (Karkat is really the only person that Eridan doesn't feel the need to put on airs around, and we can only speculate as to why. It's because they're destined moirails for each other.)

He will also do this for statements that he isn't 100% sure about. If he's going to say something, he is going to ASSERT IT as if it is IMMUTABLE FACT, even if he's immediately disproven. In which case he will admit fault, but then his NEXT wild assumption is the IMMUTABLE FACT.

CA: wwell fine you dont havve to behavve vvillainous if youre bent up on actin against the grain a your nobility or somesuch CA: i can play that role its not like i evver didnt get my gills dirty before TT: Nobility? What are you talking about? CA: wwell arent you TT: No. What gave you that idea? CA: the wway you CA: ok CA: i had a misconclusion about that so my fault CA: obvviously you got rich blood so maybe when you crash landed you wwerent recognized for it by wwhatevver vvehicle upholds the class structure in human society

I feel like he's the type who, if he's genuinely unsure about something, he just won't say it at all. Basically, Eridan is always operating at either 0% or 100%, with almost no in-between. NO CHILL. Given that he only strikes up conversations when he's trying to achieve something from it - whether that's actively getting someone to do something for him, or just trying to assert that magic is fake - he treats every conversation like it' i's a battle, where the prize is whatever it is he's attempting to do, and his conversation partner is an enemy that he has to beat into submission. (Karkat is the only exception. He actually just likes talking to Karkat, and will do more traditional "hey man you wanna talk about your feelings" kind of dialogue with him.)

If your Eridan has chill, you are doing it wrong!

ERIDAN STRUGGLES WITH EMPATHY

This really needs to be qualified: he does HAVE empathy. He DOES care about his friends. But his brain is really cooked, and he has an extremely difficult time actually working up the emotional energy to express or experience it.

He's kind of downright sociopathic, lol:

ERISOLSPRITE: iim of the miind2et that wwhen you havve a rock 2oliid piiece of a22 tiied twwo the dock, you dont bloody wwell tug the knot loo2e and 2hovve the fucker off wwiith the heel a your boot. ERISOLSPRITE: but then another part of me ju2t wwonder2 wwhat the FUCK ii ju2t 2aiid there? liike that wwa2 ju2t 2uch a wweiird 2ociiopathiic thought ii had, ii hone2tly had no iidea howw bad ii could po22iibly feel about my2elf untiil ii BECAME my2elf, iif THAT make2 2en2e.

Like, okay, how do I explain this. His body count is 2000+. He has an EXTREMELY difficult time caring about life or death. He's had to watch kids cry over their dead parents. He has had to kill kids trying to protect their parents, whom he has then had to kill. And he has done this over, and over, and over again, as long as he can remember, to the point where he calls it "all i evver done practically."

Just for the sake of preserving what's left of his sanity, he's had to learn how to not care about that. If he sees someone crying in front of him, it's unlikely to even emotionally register to him as anything beyond "factually, this person is sad." Shit happens, people die. Violence, tragedy, murder, injury, and death are literally daily occurrences to him. For you, the day I killed your lusus was the most important day of your now tragically short life. For me, it was Tuesday.

Vriska is in the same boat, BTW. I think a combination of just being a less sensitive person to start with, the existence of a support network (Equius and Kanaya and Terezi as friends + she was friends with Team Charge before the... incident), and the lack of all the Duty(tm) and Responsibility(tm), helped her cope a bit better, and be better about opening up to people and relying on them for emotional support.

What this means, in terms of playing/writing him, is that his priorities are extremely skewed, and he is genuinely not going to understand things like "maybe I shouldn't tell this land dweller I'm trying to kill all land dwellers," or "maybe this person is sad and I should comfort them," or "maybe my constant talk about murder and death is offputting to other people." Here he is, literally not understanding why insulting and belittling Kanaya has led to her not wanting to help him, as well as not understanding why Vriska might've blocked him:

CA: wwhatEVVER you are so the vvillage twwo wwheel devvice wwhen it comes to auspisticing CA: you cant let a grudge go by you wwont stick your busy stem betwwixt so get wwith the program fussyfangs GA: If Your Slander Werent So Predictable Id Block You Too For Saying That GA: Has It Occurred To You She May Have Blocked You Because You Are Vvery Ovverbearing GA: I Just Said That Aloud Now In Your Silly Accent And Had A Private Moment Of Enjoyment CA: wwho givves a shit wwhy she blocked me or about my fuckin manners come on youvve got a wway wwith her

His brain is constantly running at a fevered 100% full-tilt run; he doesn't have the space, leisure, or energy to spend considering things from the perspective of other people. It leads to weird paradoxes, where he IS considerate of other peoples' feelings, but doesn't actually consider their feelings. After spending almost the ENTIRE conversation with Kanaya belittling her and demanding she be his and Vriska's auspice, he abruptly switches gears:

CA: fine i get it ill step off CA: you dont wwant to be our auspistice cause you dont wwant to get locked into that sort of relation wwith her i can respect that GA: No Thats Not It CA: yeah it is your real feelins run pretty awwful RUDDY methinks evverybody knowws it CA: especially that assblood karkat he and me havve you so pegged about that its upright silly CA: but its cool its totally fine dont wworry ill leavve you alone and givve you a shot

Because he LIKES Kanaya, he REALLY CARES ABOUT Kanaya, he WANTS GOOD THINGS for Kanaya... and yet is entirely, wholly, not taking her feelings into account at all.

BUT! This also applies in reverse! You can make all the death threats and casteist insults and demands towards Eridan as you want, and he won't give a shit aside from his usual grandstanding protests. The only time we ever truly see him offended is when he's genuinely trying to do Jade a favor by giving her the code to his gun, and she calls it a piece of shit and tosses it out with the trash - and even then, he doesn't take THAT much offense. Judge for yourself:

GG: so ill just dump it outside the house with the trash GG: and if it is fated to find my penpal one day then so be it! CA: god damn it CA: its like you people go out of your wway to think a howw to disrespect me GG: maybe you should have been nicer to me! GG: in any case i dont appreciate the spirit in which the gift was given so this is what i will do! CA: fine fuck it wwhat do i care CA: this has been a completely flippin useless exchange as havve they all been wwith your species

After all, he's accustomed to much, much, much worse. His emotional response here is indignation, not even really HURT. Karkat also makes a bunch of genuine death threats towards Eridan, which get entirely written off as "wwitty repartee." He's just really bad at processing hostility! Hostility is very normal to him!

So basically, before letting Eridan engage in any act of empathy or compassion, you have to ask whether or not he's going to recognize that the situation would call for that in the first place, which he is REALLY BAD at identifying. He only asks Karkat if Karkat wants to talk about his feelings after Karkat explicitly says that he's freaking out in every possible way, and without that explicit indication, I don't think Eridan would've even noticed.

If your Eridan has social skills, you are Doing It Wrong!

This also means that, even if Eridan has realized that he needs to act compassionate, he's still going to be really fucking trash at actually providing emotional support. He can't even emotionally support himself, you think he can figure it out for other people?

The most he can do is call it like he sees it - "this is a stupid thing to get worked up over," for example. Or he can jump straight to solutions, like "so what, are you gonna kill that guy?" Being as charitable as humanly possible, he might be able to fire off a "that's rough, buddy" at ABSOLUTE maximum.

ERIDAN KIND OF JUST SEES SLURS AS FACTUAL DESCRIPTORS (AND OTHER GENERAL NOTES FOR HIS SYNTAX AND VOCAB)

And, let's face it, on Alternia, they kind of are. Kanaya doesn't even bother to call him out for calling Karkat an assblood, Terezi and Feferi and Sollux don't bother taking offense to calling Sollux a mustard blood, and Karkat calls himself a gutter blood at one point. Like, even if you're playing/writing an Eridan who's rejected Alternian society, he'll still probably be out here calling people slurs? Things that would be considered hostile from other characters are very much just neutral coming from Eridan. There is no emotional difference to him, calling someone a rustblood or a burgundy, but he's expected to say rustblood because of his sea dweller status, so that's what he goes with.

Also, make some grounded but wild assertions about people and things. This boy loves to Assume. Writing Eridan is a lot of going "ERIDAN DON'T SAY THAT!!!" it's great. Really painful. Highly unrecommended.

He's obviously quite book smart and uses a lot of big vocabulary words. You guys need to have Eridan go on these insane purple-prose rants more often. They're so fun to write and so cringe to post.

CA: yeah go ahead and kiss us off but therell be blood on your hands CA: you could either play along as our auspistice and do a little mediating like you wwere fuckin hatched to CA: or wwatch she and me devvolvve into fuckin full fledged kismesisses the kind like you dont get once in ten thousand swweeps CA: you knoww thats wwhat it wwould be there wwould be rainboww rivvers runnin through star systems and all nebulizin like liquid firewworks CA: it wwill be beautiful and heartbreaking all at once

CA: but the thing is i need a rivval wwho can pose me a challenge CA: and frankly shes not evven fit for holdin my cape anymore CA: at this point i find all her adorable black pixie dabblins to be prime kiddie playtime shit CA: all of her FRAUDULENT MAGICS cannot come close to posin threat to my mastery ovver the TRUEST SCIENCES CA: an wwith my empiricists wwand i servve as the righteous hope that wwill incinerate delusion and the deluded alike CA: my holy fire is the wwhite fury bled from the wwrath-wweary eyes of fifty thousand nonfictional angels CA: and wwhen theyre finished wweepin they wwill boww before their prince GG: wow what are you talking about

For no reason at all. I'm going to post a little Karkat for comparison.

PCG: THE FUNNY THING IS IN THE FUTURE EVERYONE WILL RECOGNIZE ME AS THE UNDISPUTED LEADER, EVEN YOU. PCG: YOU WILL BE STANDING ON THE TIPPYTOES OF YOUR IDIOTIC METAL SHOES, TAKING DELICATE PURCHASE OF MY NUBBY HORNS AND HOISTING YOURSELF OVER MY HEAD TO PUT YOUR SWEATIEST TOUGH GUY SMOOCH UPON MY TWITCHING SPINE LUMP. PCG: IT WILL BE TENDER AND DEFERENTIAL, LIKE A PAUPER KISSING A NOBLE'S RING. PCG: JUST SCROLL DOWN, READ THE LOGS.

Also, notes about his typing quirk:

First, the ww and vv stuff is actively a fake accent he puts on for the #Aesthetic, and his natural way of speaking doesn't include those at all, so it's entirely likely that if you're writing him after he's rejected Alternian society, or if he's trying to be really really emotionally sincere, he wouldn't be bothering with that part of the quirk specifically.

He doesn't ALWAYS drop the G at the end of words ending in -ing. It's frequent and common, but don't feel bad about letting a word end in a g, especially if it would sound or look better (for example, "being a kid and growwing up" doesn't bother to drop the g's at all).

Similarly, he doesn't ALWAYS change "of" to "a," especially preceding a vowel sound. You gotta be careful with when you change this up, because he pretty much only does it when it would make sense spoken aloud.

In phrases like "must have" or "could have," he will often (but not always) change "have" to "of" (so "must of" or "could of").

Dropping the D from the word "and" happens only one time in the entire comic, so it's probably a typo, and if it isn't, it's REALLY REALLY infrequent.

He will sometimes use shorthanded words, like "em" instead of "them" or "ya" instead of "you." I'd say it's occassional, a bit rarer than the G-dropping. He does tend to use "got to" instead of "gotta," however. Again, try saying his lines out loud, to figure out when best to use what.

Given his loquaciousness and clear command of the language, it's likely that this is for Style, but he also doesn't always bother with proper grammar. Places where "[person] and I" would be used are often switched out for "[person] and me," and he might forgo a contraction like "I've" or "we've" and just post the pronoun (for example, "you got to" instead of "you've got to."

He references ocean shit, and ocean anatomy, like his own fins and gills, pretty often! He just doesn't do the puns. Try using "flippin" instead of "fuckin" every now and then, or "glubbin" instead of "talkin," or nautical analogies.

Also throw in some British "bloody"s every so often.

Cusses like a sailor, though, has one of the highest "fuck" counts relative to wordcount out of all the characters (cough like Karkat cough).

HE DOES NOT USE PUNCTUATION. EVER. (Ok, he does use a period once while talking to Terezi in Alterniabound, but I think that that's a mistake because it's literally the only time). This is actually in STARK contrast to other characters that don't generally use punctuation, like Aradia or Nepeta, who will still use ellipses, exclamation points, and question marks. Eridan actively, consciously forgoes using ANY punctuation, EVER, even for questions (which you shouldn't be asking too many of, because Eridan makes DEMANDS).

ERIDAN DOES NOT ANGST

This is another thing that I see a lot. Yes, Eridan thinks that he's worse than everybody. Yes, he deliberately keeps fun things at bay and focuses on things that make him miserable. Yes, he's sad, anxious, emotionally neglected, etc. etc. But I often see this self-loathing played for dramatics - Eridan being withdrawn, quiet, moody, and sad. Or being consumed with guilt and regret, and wishing he didn't have to be a murderer or wasn't forced into the position he was. And that's just not the vibe.

Because Eridan has a lot of pride. He refuses to appear weak, and he has genuinely lost the emotional capacity to feel too guilty about all the killing. Moreover, here's something I often see get overlooked:

He would think of the murders he committed, and the fact that he's so good at murdering, as good things.

It's not only useful, but oftentimes NECESSARY, for somebody on the team to be willing to make those kinds of sacrifices, to be willing to pull the trigger. Very literally, murder kept him and his friends alive long enough to play the game.

There's no universe in which Eridan would denounce killing and violence, because to do so would be to say that he shouldn't have kept his friends alive. Even in a hypothetical golden ending, where everybody survives to the end, Eridan would be the guy on the team who posits murder as a potential solution to problems, reminds people that society is built on sacrifices and suffering, and offers to do the dirty work himself if nobody else has the stomach for it. As much as being the orphaner was DISASTROUS for his mental and emotional well-being, he wouldn't regret the things he did.

And this is reflected in the comic - the rare times he does break down and show that he kind of hates himself, the focus is never on guilt or regret, it's on his perceived shortcomings - calling himself an idiot or pathetic. Because that's what his real insecurity is - he doesn't hate himself because he sees himself as this awful piece of shit, the way Sollux does, he hates himself because he thinks of himself as not good enough, because if he's Not Good Enough, then Something Bad Will Happen.

Remember, his danger response is FIGHT. It's a different paradigm than what most of us are used to, which is why I see his inner turmoil so often represented by him being moody and broody, which he's never really done in the comic. Eridan doesn't get sad, even though he is sad; he gets mad, aggressive, combative. He doesn't wallow; he just keeps swimming.

CA: i got to keep tryin thats howw all the great military masterminds became great through upright persevverance

Again, his response to being insulted is indignation, not hurt. He doesn't sit in his room feeling sorry for himself, he obsesses over genocide and murdering all the land dwellers. His response to seeing the love of his life turn on him with killing intent is to flip out and start killing right back. After being broken up with, his response is to go and pester his friends (and yell at Gamzee a bit) until he can get some emotional support. He doesn't angst, he tries to solve the problem, and, if he can't solve the problem, he starts shooting.

He's awfully violent! If your Eridan is not awfully violent, you're probably doing it wrong!

BUT, ERIDAN LOVES HIS FRIENDS

At his core, however, as tangled up in all of the above as he may be, Eridan loves:

His friends

Wizards

Magic

Probably hipster shit

Happy endings

He is still, after all, a HOPE player. He struggles as hard as he does because he can't give up on the idea that things will get better, eventually. Even if he's struggling in the wrong direction, toward the wrong ideals, and even if emotionally, he's feeling more and more hopeless and closed in, he can't stop himself from trying, and trying, and trying again.

He loves magic. As much as he tries to push it away and calls it stupid and fake and lame at every turn, he still brought his shitty wands onto the meteor. Why does he love magic? It's an extension of his inability to give up. No matter how hopeless the situation, no matter how awful he feels, no matter how unrealistic salvation might seem, if only magic is real, then there's a solution. He wants to be a wizard so badly because wizards can do magic, and magic can overturn reality, and reality is this awful, inescapable nightmare. He is constantly being caught between nihilism and pessimism and hope and belief. In the comic, the nihilism won, but that's the great conflict at the core of his being.

So ummmmm yeah, I hope any of that helps with writing the fish boy at all. Basically, if you aren't constantly cringing while writing the bullshit that comes out of his mouth, you're probably doing it wrong...

[vendettavalor]

Lucas never did quite like playing dress-up. Unlike his only remaining kin-- memo to himself: ask Olivia about any new leads suggesting a new trail as to his whereabouts-- Lucas Grey never thrived in the comforts of satin and silk, or denim and canvas. He was no chameleon. Fashion was never at the forefront of his mind. He was less the assassin the Doctor bred him to be and more a soldier, preferring the security of tactical gear to the comforts of luxury fashion. But for this occasion, it could be tolerated. The uniform of the bodyguards was as functional as it was fashionable- holsters and sheaths hidden in the linings of his coat, the pockets of his suit, and the belt of his pants. And besides, playing bodyguard wasn't so hard.

He'd done it before.

He doesn't let slip any obvious indications that he hears her. He's still stood stock-still at the end of the bar, feet shoulder-width apart, hands clasped together in front of him. An imposing stance more befitting of a bouncer than the average luxury security guard. But old habits die hard, and it's enough to chase off any would-be intrusions to their plan without the need for a more direct approach. Stealth is not his strong suit. Intimidation will have to do.

"You're late." The words slip in a low growl, green eyes never leaving the crowd. He's aggravated, and her compliment does nothing to wane the feeling of agitation poking at the vein in his temple. Still, he maintains his composure as she offers the breakdown of potential issues they're likely to run into. A hand rises to his earpiece and he addresses someone for a moment, asking if the details have been heard. A confirmation, and he's back to his usual stance once more.

"Confirmation that nothing's changed. I managed to get a key card from one of the other security personnel that will give us access. Surveillance systems only have enough data on their server to hold onto the last ten minutes of a recording before it's overwritten. Once your diversion kicks off, they'll be automatically set on a ten minute loop. That means we will have exactly ten minutes to get into position, access the terminal, and get out with what we need without being detected. I've already got a route planned out."

A simple operation. Get in, get what they needed, and get out.

"You shouldn't face any repercussions from this stunt so long as you stick to the plan."

⚔️ @ruinouss

Plotted starter for @vendettavalor

Music reverberated softly within the large room, complimenting the occasional laughter of the party's patrons. Their idle chatter blended with the musician's bass for anyone not involved in the conversation, allowing privacy. The guests wore elegant dresses and suits that flaunted their wealth and prestige within the Imperial ranks. It was one of the few times Faye had seen several non-human races that supported the Imperials interacting with the overwhelming majority of humans. It was a boring ordeal for her, preferring a good fight or chase to embellish one's achievements and charity in how they aided in dealing with the rebels. But, thankfully, she wouldn't have to dwell in the obnoxiously grandeur palace. Striding through the room, Faye held her head high as she approached the open bar.

Her black and red hair was braided and twisted into a bun on the back of her head, and random strands fell around to frame her face. She wore a black backless dress that attached to a band around her neck, and a slit on the left side that went all the way to her hip, allowing a peek of the large serpent and sunflower tattoo on her thigh. Her heels clicked along the floor, drawing a few curious eyes but nothing more. As she approached the bar, she spotted a familiar face at the end and moved to stand beside him.

"Hope I didn't keep you waitin' long," she gestured to the Chiss bartender for a glass of liquor before returning to the man beside her. A soft smile played at the corners of her lips. "You look good in a suit." Faye teased a bit and nodded when her drink was delivered. She remained silent for a moment, watching the faces at the bar and searching for any lingering eyes. Certain that no one was looking or listening she dropped her voice to a hushed whisper as she brought the glass to her mouth but didn't drink.

"There's a patrol goin' around but I set up a diversion that'll allow us a brief moment to slip past the guards and enter the war section of the place. Unless they changed this in the past few days the terminal we need should be in the back room." Again, Faye felt the tug of a smile on her lips. "I suppose I won't be able to play double agent after this mission if it goes south. I'll have my face plastered all over the Imperial network."

[johnwickb1tsch]

bittersweet ~ a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... Part 21 all chapters

WARNING: NSFW, SEXUAL CONTENT, YANDERE SH!T. Plz take care. I luv u all. 😘

-You toss and turn, of course, utterly unable to sleep.

Your body does not get the memo that it’s a bad idea to fuck a man like John Wick, who is a killer who is holding you prisoner, and refuses to simmer down. You are uncomfortably swollen between your legs, your pussy aching with frustration, and in the wee hours of the morning you are certain you are about to lose your goddamn fucking mind.

 How is he really going to fucking know?

This is the stupid little thought that plays through your tired brain as you writhe beneath the covers, running hands up over your torso, pretending they are his.

Imagining his touch tweaking the sensitive tips of your nipples, his fingers buried inside you, seeking that sensitive place that drives you wild.

Yours are too soft, too small, not long enough or thick enough by half.

You try to trick yourself that it’s his unrelenting touch circling your clit, furious in his claiming of your pleasure as his own…

It’s not enough by half, and the release that washes over you is a paltry consolation at best, a weak pleasure that you know is a sad facsimile of the real thing. Still, you can’t stop yourself from sighing his name, and how has he mind-fucked you so royally in such a short amount of time?

It pisses you off, and in a last act of defiance for the night you flip off the camera high in the corner.

He’s probably not watching anyway. He’s probably asleep, snug in his bed with Dog, the bastard.

Feeling sad and not really sated at all, you curl into a ball and try to finally get some rest. It’s lonely in this big bed all by yourself, and by the time sleep finally claims you your pillow is damp with tears.

-When finally you wake in the morning, you are cold. The covers are down around your waist, and your shoulders ache, your arms at an odd angle out in front of you.

You never sleep like this.

There’s something on your wrists.

You open your eyes, blinking away the blur of sleep. Your vision focuses on something red.

A very neat line of shibari style knots encircles your wrists and half your forearms. They would have been beautiful, in a different setting. Like, not on your body, without your consent.

They’re not so tight to cut off your circulation, but they’re not exactly comfortable either. You strain against the silk rope, and find you can’t budge them.

You are so fucked.

“I warned you.”

John is sitting in the chair in the corner, watching you. He’s wearing all black again, a button down and slacks this time. Looking his best for you, or does he have somewhere to be? It’s not something you would have paid attention to before, but this morning, you can’t help but fixate on the fact that he’s wearing a leather belt.

Because you’re an idiot, you snipe anyway, “Wow, looks like someone earned his merit badge in macramé.”

He just smirks at you, the beautiful bastard.

“I’ve got more than a badge, honey.”

“Very funny. Untie me.”

“You’ll have to earn it, bad girl.”

Your heart skitters around in your chest as you wonder what that means.

He goes on, “Did you really think I wouldn’t see you last night?”

“Guess I assumed you’d be sleeping. It was way past your bedtime.”

He scoffs at the old man dig, leaning forward on his knees, fixing you with that hawkish gaze. “I found out I only sleep well with you in my arms, darling. Wouldn’t that have been nice last night?”

Yes, it would have. However, you just frown at him.

“So, was it worth it?” he pushes.

You sigh, half tempted to tell him how utterly unsatisfying your little session of self-indulgence had been. Rather than answer him, you look at the knots again. They really are beautiful. It makes you think of the book binding shop you’d visited in Florence, and the complicated stitches and knots they used to affix the signatures of pages together.

This man likes binding all kinds of things, it seems.

“Are you hungry?”

Only then do you notice that he has a plate of breakfast foods on the little table beside him. Eggs, toast, and bacon. A little plastic cup that might be water or juice. Your tummy answers with a rumble. Dog did eat your dinner last night, and John never offered you a replacement sandwich. At the time you’d been too worked up about…everything, to care.  

“Maybe.”

He huffs a little laugh at you. “Come here.” He pats his knee, and you realize he wants you to sit on his lap—so he can feed you. A little growl in the back of your throat escapes you, and it only makes his smirk widen.

“God, you’re adorable when you’re angry.”

“I’m not hungry,” you grouse.

You are starving, and you both know it.

“Come. Here.”

There’s that chilling tone of voice again. It does not fail to fill your veins with ice, your heart skipping a beat before skittering irregularly in your chest. You’ve come to understand that it means playtime is over.

You are so fucked.

It is awkward, getting out of the bed with your wrists tied like this. You almost fall on your face, your foot getting tangled in the sheet. From John’s forbidding expression, you don’t think he would have caught you from hitting the floor this time.

You are still only dressed in the thin nightie, and the air is cold on your skin. Your nipples tighten, forming sharp peaks beneath the fabric, the silk lending agonizing friction that makes you want to press your thighs to relieve some of the sudden ache between them.

Last night so did not help you with this problem, and John’s eyes fixating on them does not help either, and you wonder if you’ll be in trouble when you stain his neat looking pants leg with your slick after sitting on him.

“Come here,” he says again, his tone much gentler this time.

Defeated, you shuffle forward, letting him guide you to perch on his knee with a hand on your hip. You barely manage to suppress a shudder as possessively his hand slides just under your skirt, resting on the warm pillow of your thigh. His long fingers are so close to your center, but he makes no move, letting you stew in it.

Bastard.

Only then do you turn to look at him, finding his gaze fixed on your face. “Good morning.”

When you say nothing in return he lifts one eyebrow, and you swear, this man will be the death of you out of frustration alone.

“Good morning,” you finally return, hating the meek timbre of your tone.

“Do you like scrambled eggs?” You nod, and he scoops up a forkful. You notice the fork is plastic, and you wonder if its for your safety, or for his.

He’s clearly never seen Hot Tub Time Machine.

“I would have taken you to breakfast in Venice, but someone had to run away.”

“Well, someone was an insufferable prig the night before,” you return primly, wondering what punishment this will earn you, unable to stop yourself from saying it anyway. He actually smirks at this, though his grip tightens a bit in warning on your thigh. Not enough to hurt, but oh.

You are definitely leaving a wet spot on his trousers, and you hate yourself a little more for it.

You finish your breakfast bite by bite like the good girl you’re apparently not. It was good, if not the weirdest seating arrangement you’ve ever endured. You tremble inside, as you wonder what he has in mind for you next, now that your energy is up and you are trussed like a holiday goose for his pleasure.

You couldn’t be more surprised, than when he deposits you on the bed, kisses your cheek, and bids you, “Have a nice day, sweetie.”

“Wait!” you exclaim, whirling as he is already halfway to the door, swinging his suit jacket about his broad shoulders. “Where are you going?”

“Out.”

You hate it, that hearing this fills you with panic. “Are you coming back?”

“Do you want me to come back?” There is a dangerous glitter in those dark eyes, and you know that is a question loaded with fourteen in the clip and one in the chamber.

You decide on, “I want you to untie me.” Holding up your wrists as exhibit A.

He shrugs a little, and you know that was not the answer he wanted. “Maybe later.” Then he sweeps out of the room, leaving you staring dumbfounded at the door where he’d just been. The man is like a fucking ghost.  

“Bastard!”

You hope he hears you, but you suspect the epithet falls on deaf ears.

-Your first order of business, of course, is trying to undo these beautiful fucking knots. Unfortunately for you, they are tight, and secure, and John was smart enough to make the finishing hitch with the end tails on the opposite side of your wrist where you cannot easily reach them with your teeth.

Sonofabitch.

If he’d left you Dog for company you could have enlisted the pooch’s formidable chompers, perhaps, but no dice on that one.

Fine.

You sit under the covers for a while, because you’re cold. You try to read, but it is infuriatingly difficult to turn the pages of a book and read comfortably with your hands like this.

You are certain lunch time comes and goes, without a peep out of John.

Did he actually leave you?

You hate it, how the thought makes a trill of panic vibrate in your chest.

Fine. It’s fucking fine.

He thinks he can break you with alone time? You? You are the Queen of Introversion. You can go for days without human interaction, happily, so long as you have a sketchbook or a book. Bring it on, Mr. Wick.

He left you the water cup with the straw, and boy is that an adventure to refill in the bathroom when you’re thirsty.

Going pee without making a mess is no small feat either.

You pace the room, just to get some exercise. You look out the window, watching the birds in the trees.

You laugh to yourself, banging your head against the bulletproof glass. How funny, that you’d once fancied yourself Jane Eyre, when it turned out you were destined to be Mad Bertha locked up in the attic by Rochester all along.  

You hate to admit it, but by the time the sun is starting to set behind the trees you are going stir crazy with wondering where the fuck he is.

It’s definitely not because you miss him.

It’s just…these fucking ropes, of course. It’s not those burning dark eyes, or those large sure hands, or that sturdy long body he likes to press to yours. It’s not that the silence of the room feels empty without his deep voice, even if he’s using it to taunt you.

It is late by the time you hear the locks on the door whir, and you have been sitting in your nest in bed feeling listless and way too sorry for yourself. You are half out of your mind with boredom, and your shoulders and elbows ache at the joints from the restraints at your wrist. You try not to show it, but you are ready to climb up the fucking walls.

Like he might have some inkling of this, John pays you a knowing smile, assuming his seat with the confidence of a king in his throne room. He snaps and pats his thigh, no words this time, expecting you to obey.

Someday, you are going to make him pay for this.

But now…there’s nothing for it but to play his twisted game.

He’s prepared some kind of stir-fry tonight, with vegetables, beef, and rice. You are starving by now, and it smells heavenly.

Again, the food is good, simple but filling. He feeds you forkful by forkful with a careful tenderness that could make you weep. Your time with John is like a game of Russian Roulette. Spin the wheel, which John shall you receive this minute?

It’s easy to hate Mean John. Insufferable Ass Hat John, could drive you to murder. But Sweet John? You would do anything, for Sweet John, and you’re afraid he knows it too.

It’s only been a day, really. Is that right? A day? And already, you feel yourself slipping into the mould he’s fashioned for you.

Perhaps in a knee-jerk attempt to counter this, you ask, “Did you used to play this game with Helen?”

He freezes with the fork halfway to your lips, his hand underneath your skirt with his dead wife’s name in your mouth.  

You meant to throw him off, but as far as you can tell, all it earns you is a scoff. “No.”

“Why not?”

He actually seems to consider your question, toying with the food again, re-loading the fork with a different bite. “I was never afraid she would leave me. Funny, how that worked out.”

You feel like he’s handed you an important piece of information. Emboldened by his quietness, you dare push, “And…what do you think she’d think, about what you’re doing to me now?”

“I’d say she lost her vote, when she left me.” The indifference is gone; this is delivered with a stinging bitterness, and you realize he blames her for leaving him. There’s a clue in this too, and you feel like the solution to all this is an illusive thing hovering just barely out of your grasp. If you can find just the right words, push just the right buttons…maybe you can bring him back to sanity?

“She never would have left you on purpose, John. She got sick. You’ve got to forgive her.”

And accept you can’t control everyone around you. Then preferably, untie me! motherfucker.

The only indication he gives that you’ve upset him is the tightening of his fingers digging into your thigh. You’re going to have bruises, but if he’s actually processing what you’re saying, it’s a price you’ll gladly pay.

He just continues to push the medley of food around on the plate, shaking his head in silence. Disappointed in his nonreaction to your question, you sullenly accept the next bite.

Three seconds later, your mouth is on fire.

You squeal with panic, leaning for the plate to spit it out. But John’s big hand clamps over your mouth, a hard glint in his eyes, and you know you’re going to have to swallow it. It takes three tries, but you manage, tears streaming from the corner of your eyes.

You can do moderately spicy food, but that was just fucking diabolical.

“What the fuck?” you hiss between coughs.

“I knew you’d have something smart to say tonight.”

You try to reach for the water cup with its stupid little straw and your stupidly bound-together hands, but John sets it out of reach. “Oh my god, please?”

He speaks calmly, as though the lining of your mouth is not being eaten away like you took a bite of rice laced with battery acid. “You keep speaking about Helen like you knew her. I suggest you cut it out. Unless you would like all your meals seasoned like this.”

You blow a long breath of air over your tongue. It only sort of helps.

Mother. Fucker.

You glare daggers, but for now, you’re wise enough (broken enough?) to keep your epithets to yourself.

He sits back in the chair to regard you, tossing the fork into what’s left on the plate. You’re still hungry, but you’ll be damned if you eat anymore from that dish. You flinch as he reaches for you, though he is not cruel as he grips your hair at the base of your head. Just…exacting, and he guides you to perch on the edge of the chair between his legs, your bare ass fitted against his crotch.

It feels good as he starts to braid your hair, a jarring contrast to the pain still simmering in your mouth. You whimper a little, despite yourself, arching into him behind you. You didn’t even mean to, really, but it wins you a low groan that fills you with forbidden warmth.

This is so fucked.

Nothing you’ve experienced in your life has prepared you for handling this.

When he finishes he wraps the new handle of your plaited hair in his fist, pulling you back against his chest. He is warm, and solid, and you fail royally as you try not to enjoy this contact. It’s ridiculous, but all you really want is for him to hold you.

He speaks against the shell of your ear, his other hand lightly encircling your throat. “I’ll never let you leave me.”

Your heart drums frantically in your chest; he means business. You can just tell, there is an unyielding hardness in his tone that somehow wasn’t quite there before. You thought you could reason with this man, but maybe you were wrong, or maybe you only succeeded in pushing his sanity the other way, further into the red.

Maybe there’s nothing left to reason with, and that is the thing that finally, truly scares you.

“Maybe you need something else to fill up that sassy mouth.”

With his improvised handle he guides you down to sit between his splayed legs. Your eyes are drawn to the newly erected tent in his pants, that formidable bulge that should be the stuff of your nightmares, but still inspires a maddening longing inside you.

Why do you have to feel so empty, when he’s near?

Frustrated by the unfairness of it all, you glare daggers up at him. You know what he’s angling to extort out of you, of course. It makes you sad, but not for the reason he might have expected. It makes you sad, because you would have rubbed your knees raw sucking him off, if he’d just asked you nicely.

“Thanks, but I’m full.”

He snorts at that. “Yeah? Someone doesn’t want her hands untied that badly.”

Now, that is something you want, and maybe you’re willing to play with that on the table. You’ve never thought of yourself as someone who is easily led, but he is good at manipulating you. It makes you wonder if any of it was ever real, or if this is just a game he’s been playing with you from day one.

The thought makes you sigh, and you rest your cheek on his lean thigh, closing your eyes.

He looks down at you like you’re a puzzle he’s not quite sure how to solve.

Welcome to the club, Mr. Wick.

“Were you planning this all along?” you ask. “When you were so sweet to me? Am I that fucking stupid that I didn’t see this coming?” Obviously, from the clothes in the closet, he’d hoped you’d come stay with him at some point, but all the rest? It feels spontaneous, like the way something hard can suddenly crack with too much pressure. But then again, maybe just because it took you by such fucking surprise.

He strokes your hair, and that gentle touch just makes it worse somehow. You feel the sting of tears in the corners of your eyes, because that gentleness is all you wanted from him. The ironic part is that he wouldn’t have had to do any of this shit, just to keep you.

You do not love easily, but once you do…it is a total, and all-consuming thing.

“I don’t know,” he answers begrudgingly. “I just…couldn’t let you leave me.”

You think about how he’d been an orphan. He’d lost his parents. He’d lost his wife. He’d lost his dog. He’d gone on a rampage and slaughtered an entire Russian Bratva…for the loss of a dog.

In perspective you guess he’d actually behaved rather tamely, at the threat of losing you. This man does nothing by halves, and the only thing John Wick fears, it seems, is losing those he loves.

Is that what he’d meant, when he said his love was a curse?

It doesn’t excuse it, but there is a key somewhere in that, you reason. A key to freedom, or the gates of Hell, you’re not really sure.

You do your best to blink away your tears. Maybe it’s stupid, because you’re not half as tough as he is, but you don’t really want him to see you cry.

He lets you sit like that for as long as you want, stroking your hair. It’s almost sweet, and it gives you time to collect yourself.

Someday, he’s going to figure out it’s best not to give you a chance to plot your next move. It occurs to you that maybe you have one last card to play.

You sit up slowly on your knees between his legs, and you can feel the intensity of his gaze weighing upon your skin. You reach for his belt, brushing his erection through his pants, his manhood twitching in anticipation. For just a second, he allows himself to close his eyes.  

Maybe you have power too. You just have to figure out how to use it here, and maybe not lose you mind over how thick and wonderful he just felt beneath your hand. That unhelpful pulsing between your legs casts its vote. You try to unobtrusively squeeze your thighs for some relief, but you fear this man sees everything.  

Good for you, that your voice sounds almost steady. “I have to say, you’re a brave man, Mr. Wick.”

It is not easy to work the buckle of his belt with your hands bound like this, but somehow you manage, even pulling it from its loops. You fight the urge to throw the damn thing across the room, but settle for resting it at his feet.

“How do you figure?”

“Well...” You flip open the top button of his pants, your fingers shaking slightly. “If we are engaging in that time-honored exchange of a favor for a blowjob... and you just essentially carpet bombed my mouth with napalm...wow, you do like to live dangerously.”

He sits still as a statue for a good few moments, weighing what you’re telling him, gauging if the capsaicin would transfer through your saliva to what is arguably the most sensitive area of his body. You’re 98 percent certain they would, and a part of you hopes he’ll opt to try it even after you warn him.

It would make for a neat little slice of revenge.

But then, what you really want is out of these ropes, and you hope your honesty will win you some points with him.

In the end he catches your hands, as you are awkwardly trying to work his zipper.

“Maybe we'll skip that for now.”

“You sure? Where’s your sense of adventure?”

He narrows his eyes down at you, and you wonder if you’re inventing it, or is there a glimmer of amusement in his dark eyes?

“In my other pants.” 

In the end he pulls you back up into his lap with a grumble.

You suspect you’ve only delayed the inevitable, but you feel some satisfaction for your little coup.

“I’ll be back,” he tells you, (threatens you?), depositing you on the bed, gathering the dishes and sweeping out of the room. You have a feeling this interaction was not half as satisfying as he’d hoped it would be.

Well, good.

Bastard.

-When he returns, he brings you a cup of milk. Though most of the pain from the chilis has already subsided by now, you accept it for the calorie count if anything.

“Are you alright?” he asks with a hand on your cheek, looking you over appraisingly.

Thinking this might be your best moment, you lift your bound hands with a pitiful pout, blinking your eyelashes innocently.

“Will you untie me now?” you ask in your sweetest tone, words loaded with contrition.  

“You think you’ve earned it?” he asks, and you sense this is a perilous path you’re approaching.

“I’ve been good.”

“Hmm.”

“Come on. I mouthed off. You punished me. You had your fun. And rather than give in to my initial vindictive impulses, I saved you from a very uncomfortable evening. It’s the least you can do.”

He actually chuckles at this, stroking your cheek with his thumb. He seems softened by your bright little tirade, but then this man’s mood can change on a dime.

“And, it’s starting to hurt,” you add.

It’s not a lie, and it seems that is the thing that makes him pause.

“You don’t like my knot work?”

Your heart lodges in your throat, and you know you must proceed with caution, or you’ll be wearing this shit for a week at least.

“Your knots are very fine, Mr. Wick.”

Your captor practically purrs at hearing that, a low rumbling sound from deep in his chest, his hand burying in your hair. It sends a tingling thrill all across your scalp.

You’ve come to reluctantly love his fixation with grabbing your mane.

You really are losing your mind.

“I’ll make you a deal, kitten.”

“Yeah?”

“I’ll untie you…if you will take a bath with me.” His tone is the low rumble of a jungle cat, and your heart leaps into your throat. You knew this was coming, eventually. Maybe you just didn’t expect it tonight.

Looking back, you’re not sure why.

“NowI get to see you?”

You are still puzzling over the way he’d outright prevented you from undressing him, in Venice. It was almost like he’d been afraid, and you don’t understand at all. He’s fucking gorgeous, and you’re pretty sure he knows it. So…why?

“I told you, you weren’t ready then.”

You suspect the real answer is that he wasn’t ready, but for once, you don’t contradict him.

He runs a finger down the line of his neat knots that are starting to bite into your flesh. It’s starting to affect the feeling in your fingers, and you know that can’t be good.

“So? What do you say?”

You crane your neck to look up at him, drinking in the lines of his handsome face, his straight nose and proud lips, and the delicately drawn sweep of his eyes. Even with the shadow of a black eye, courtesy of you, he’s still the most handsome man you’ve ever seen. You shouldn’t want him, after everything he’s done to you. You shouldn’t, but you feel yourself inevitably drawn to him, like the moon pulls the tide.

You feel like you’re signing a piece of your soul away to the devil on the dotted line, when at last you nod.

He puts a hand to his ear with a smirk. “What was that?”

Your groan comes out like a growl.

“You have a deal, Mr. Wick, sir.”

His low rumble of approval gives you chills, and when he turns your face up to kiss you sweetly you utterly melt beneath his hands, jarred by the contrast from earlier, but not questioning it. You bask in the press of his soft lips, greedy for his tenderness, hoping stupidly that this is the way things will be from now on. Then you yelp with surprise as suddenly he scoops you up with his hands on your thighs, carrying you into the bathroom.  

[leoluved]

indulge me (n.b)

summary: nathan eats you out, then cums in his pants :-) (lovingly) warnings: smut 18+, fem reader, pussy eating, soft nathan bc i cant get enough, not beta read (still a lazy bastard), slight overstim only if u squint word count: 1.0k

It isn’t often Nathan opens up to you. You’re okay with it; with his love being more of a comfort in action than words. You know he needs you even if he wouldn’t dare say it. 

You’ve known him long enough to know his emotions run so clearly through his eyes. 

As you lay on the couch, with a magazine in your hand, you see him come into the living room through the corner of your peripheral. 

You raise your head from the pages, watching as he strides over and takes a seat. Grabbing your legs to settle himself underneath them. You try and focus your attention back to the little quiz you were taking before, but the way Nathan’s fingers graze over your skin has you melting under his touch. 

He moves closer, his hands lingering over the surface of your thighs, and you drop the magazine as he hovers over you. Passionately slotting his lips against yours. 

Your hands find purchase wrapped around his neck, and you pull him closer to you. Earning yourself a low chuckle from him. You bare your throat to him, allowing him to leave wet, open mouth kisses onto your collarbone. 

As you move your hands down to unlace the string of his sweatpants, he stops you. Shaking his head and gently guiding your hand back to yourself by your wrist. He lowers himself, kissing down your midriff as the tank top you were wearing started to ride up. 

As if you weighed nothing, Nathan is raising your hips off of the cushion, bringing down your shorts and panties till they’re sliding off your legs. He tosses them off the couch, bringing his hands to the fold of your knees.

You let out a saccharine sigh as you watch him practically fold you in half. He groans at the sight of your slicked folds, removing his glasses and setting them down on the side table before licking a stripe up your wet cunt. 

Gasping softly, you try to close your thighs. However Nathan’s strong hands react first, and it only makes him push you further open for him. 

His eyes gaze at you lovingly from his position, with the way his hands are gripping your skin you can tell he needs this. The pleasant sting of his fingernails digging into your thighs. Knowing you’ll have crescent shaped marks in the morning. 

Nathan brings himself back to your pussy. Starting off with small kitten licks to your clit. 

Nathan loves the way you react, how easy it is to have you buckling and begging under his touch. He knows it won’t be long before you’re riding his face. Being greedy to take what you want. Nathan loves that. Loves how his actions can show him just how much you need him. 

He grabs one of your hands, replacing yours where his rested in the crook of your leg. One of his thick fingers coming up to tease your slit. The tip prods at your entrance, and Nathan practically drools at the way you clench at the intrusion. Sucking softly on your puffy nub, he enters. Indulging in the way you whimper when he finally plunges his middle finger all the way in.  

You buck your hips, and it encourages him to move faster. The sounds of slurping fills the room. You throw your head back and whine out shamelessly into the air. While you’re distracted, Nathan takes the opportunity to insert another finger. Curling them up your spongy walls until he’s hitting your favorite spot. 

He knows he found it when you’re finally starting to move your hips on your own. 

Suddenly, he stops. Watching cruelly as you try to fuck yourself on his unmoving face. He laughs when you send him a glare and starts his movements up again. 

He finally decides his teasing is over, bringing himself back down to eat you like a starving man. Your orgasm quickly approaches, and you don’t even get the chance to let out a word before Nathan is talking you through your peak. 

“C��mon baby.. Give it to me. You can do it, princess.” 

The pet name comes out in a purr, and with a final curl of his fingers, you’re gasping and bucking up onto his tongue with a cry. You bask in the feeling of your orgasm. Enjoying the way Nathan strokes the skin of your inner thigh. He presses soft kisses to your fluttering pussy. Smiling at the way you twitch. He wipes his face before bringing himself back down. 

You almost think he’s joking. 

Nathan doesn’t stop, continuing his assault on your pulsing heat. You mewl out, trying to push his head away. Instead, his fingers curl upward again, causing you to jerk away. 

“Baby. Just one more, one more ‘n I’ll stop.” His voice is gravely, and it sounds wrecked.  

His voice is distant, and with the way he desperately laps at you, it doesn’t take long for you to build up the familiar feeling in your stomach again. Your hands come up to cup his head, trying to bring him as close as you can. 

“Nath—an.. Nathan..please..” 

Hearing your begging makes him feel like he died and went to the pearly gates of Heaven. Almost as if hearing the choir sing for him. He hasn’t even noticed himself mindlessly rutting against the cushions. 

He knows he’s finished when your thighs are uncontrollably shaking. Struggling to take in breaths. When you cum again, so does he. Groaning into you, he finally pulls away. Looking down at the wet spot forming in his light grey sweats. He sighs, and grabs his glasses. Fixing them over his deep umber eyes. 

His gaze focuses on you when you finally start to compose yourself. You fix yourself up on your knees and stare at him. He smiles, and brings a hand to your head to guide your body into his chest. 

“Don’t you want m—“

“Already did.” He mutters, trying to ignore the way you're holding back a laugh.

[koiiiji]

I'm spamming cuz u said spam me soo.. pls do windbreaker wooin x reader

doing nails with Wooin...

author’s note ; ahhh!! again so sorry for such long respond!! again drafts from 2022🥳

author’s note 2 ; please no spam likes, ageless/empty blogs DNI OR I WILL BLOCK YOU!!

tw ; fluff, can be platonic or romantic, as you will interpret it😌

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sunlight streamed through the freshly cleaned windows, casting soft, warm light on the pristine apartment. it was saturday afternoon, and everything had fallen into place. you stirred in your bed, the smooth new linen cool against your skin, a welcome contrast to the warmth of your body. the faint scent of lavender from yesterday’s deep cleaning still lingered in the air. there was something so comforting about waking up to a space that was clean, organized, and entirely yours.

you stretched, feeling the remnants of sleep slip away, and smiled to yourself. unhurried weekend was still stretching ahead of you. your head felt clear and unburdened — a reflection of the tidiness surrounding you. self-care alway felt like a right decision. you had done all the right things: face masks, hair treatments, a long, hot bath. with the day ahead free and easy, you decided to focus on things that nourished your soul. a lazy shopping trip was in order — a gentle drift through your favorite stores, picking up fresh produce and maybe a little something sweet for later.

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by the time you returned home, arms full of groceries, you felt content but not quite ready to let go of the calm, indulgent mood that had enveloped you since yesterday. spa day, round two, you thought with a smile. why not?

today you were going to update your manicure, maybe try that new shade of mauve you’d been eyeing. but just as you settled into the comfort of the moment, fingers brushing over the row of nail polishes, your phone vibrated insistently with multiplate notifications, from the shelf beside you. startled, you paused mid-reach and grabbed it, eyes scanning the screen.

Wooin.

you blinked. of course. your friend always seemed to know, to sense, right when you were slipping into that quiet space of solitude, as if it was some secret alarm only he could hear. with a grin tugging at your lips, you typed an answer.

[hey] [what r u doing cupcake?😎🖕🏻]

you chuckled, leaning back against the counter. he always called you that sweet nickname. ignoring his question, you typed another message.

[let me guess. you need something from me, right?] [mmm, maybe🥱 how do you know?] [somehow you always know im about to do something, and you texting me🤯🤯]

a low chuckle rumbled from his mouth, when he already was in his car, waiting when he can ask his final question.

[oh?? did i interrupt something important?))] [maybe. just another self-care session] [too pity, cupcake... [...i hate to interrupt, but i was thinkin to joined in😎🖕🏻]

you rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t help but laugh. you liked how Wooin didnt even bored to ask your premission to join.

[you? spa day?] [i think i could use a little pampering] [fine]

you typed, feigning reluctance.

[but if you’re coming over, you’re bringing snacks]

[😎🖕🏻]

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just as you finished setting up your little manicure station in the living room, a familiar knock rattled the door — three short taps, and you just knew this bastard knocked by his foot. grinning to yourself, you opened the door to see Wooin standing there, cocky as ever, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

“look who’s finally decided to grace me with his presence,” you teased, stepping aside to let him in.

“of course,” he said, slipping past you with the kind of swagger only he could pull off. “someone has to save you from your boring solo spa day. you’re welcome, by the way.”

he dropped a bag of snacks on the coffee table and gave the nail polish bottles a once-over, his brow lifting. “wow. all of this just for me?” his voice was dripping with fake awe. “so sweet from you, cupcake!”

“hey, this is my self-care,” you replied, plopping down on the couch. “something you clearly know nothing about.”

Wooin raised an eyebrow, that mischievous glint flashing in his eyes. “is that a challenge?” he flopped onto the couch beside you, propping his feet up like he owned the place. “because if you’re daring me to take over this whole operation, i’m in.”

“are you serious?” you shot him a doubtful look, waving a nail polish bottle in his direction. “you’re gonna do my nails?”

he leaned back, stretching his arms behind his head, the picture of pure confidence. “why not? i’ve got the skills.” his grin widened as he showed one of his manicured hands. black polish brightly reflected the light. “actually, you’re lucky.” he said shooting finger gun at you, dead serious.

without missing a beat, he grabbed the nail polish from the table. “alright, sit back, relax and let the master work.”

you eyed him with skepticism, but extended your hand anyway. “if this goes south, i’m never letting you touch my nails again.”

“don’t worry, i’ve got steady hands. steadier than yours, probably.”

you rolled your eyes. “sure, Picasso. just don’t paint my whole nail off.”

he chuckled but proceeded with surprising precision, his touch careful, yet annoyingly smug. “you know, i could totally charge for this. nail bars would pay good money to have someone like me.”

“oh yeah?” you shot back, raising an eyebrow, you watched as he dipped the brush into the bottle with an overly serious expression, like he was handling precious cargo. when he finally swiped the first brush stroke over your nail, it was surprisingly… good.

“see?” he smirked, clearly proud of himself. “i told you i’d nail it.”

you groaned at the pun. “you’ve been waiting to say that, haven’t you?”

“maybe,” he winked, adding another stroke to your nail. “but you’ve gotta admit, i’m kinda killing this.” you glanced at your nails, then back at him. “i hate to say it, but... you’re not half bad.”

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈౨ৎ┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

he finished painting your nails, each stroke getting a little faster, a little cockier. “you know, i should’ve charged for this. professional-quality work right here.”

you lifted your hand to inspect the final product, and, annoyingly, it was good. the polish was smooth, no smudges, no streaks.

“you’re actually pretty decent at this,” you admitted, narrowing your eyes at him. “i hate it.”

“aw, are you jealous of my superior skills?” he teased, tossing the brush back onto the table with a flourish. “i told you, i’m multi-talented.” he leaned back, grinning smugly and you cant help but rolled your eyes again, couldn’t hide your smile.

as the two of you lounged on the couch, snacking and bickering, you glanced at your freshly painted nails and couldn’t help but feel… lighter. there was something about Wooin’s playful, teasing presence that made everything feel more… comfortable.

“alright, alright,” you admitted, breaking the comfortable silence. “you did good.”

“Damn right, i did,” he said, flashing you a grin. “you’re welcome, cupcake”

shaking your head, you grabbed a chocolate bar and tossed it at him. “don’t get too cocky. next time, i’m making you paint your own nails.”

“oh, please. i’d rock it,” he said, catching the bar effortlessly. “you’d be begging me to teach you.”

you laughed, sinking deeper into the cushions of your sofa. maybe Wooin’s cocky, mischievous charm wasn’t so bad after all.

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MASTERLIST

[shadow-tism]

I thought this may be a fun thing to show off :3

My Sonic Shelves! It isn’t everything I have but it’s most of my figurines! I don’t even wanna talk about how long it took me to get all the backpack hangers

Anyways this is just silly self indulgent post and below are some funny things

Gnarly Knucks…. You doin okay bud?

Legit I am dying over not having a shadow 4 inch figurine but I can’t find the little bastard anywhere!!!!!

Also just gotta say that my fav is probably my Omega figure cuz hes so precious and large and he just looks so cool

The ones that are not pictured bc I cant get a good pic of them are the sonic and tails collectible figures with bases!

Anywho hope u liked !!!

[tomurawr44]

could u pretty please do tomura with a tall reader (like his height or taller) since u did the short reader hcs PLEAAASE 🙏

TOMURA/TALL!READER HEADCANONS!

A/N: this is so self indulgent, I'm taller than him by like two inches but like come on let me dream.

WARNINGS: nsfw, ooc tomura.

he loves the size difference so, so much.

he loves that he can sit in your lap and have you as his own gaming chair for when he's not on his pc and playing games on his console.

please pet him oh my god he's WEAK.

he loves it when he can just rest in your chest and have you stroke the top of his head.

he will have you carry him to his bed if he falls asleep on his gaming chair.

speaking of chairs, he loves laying down on you, sitting on you, just being close to you. although he'll never say it to your face.

his body is unnaturally cold, like this man barely has any warmth so it's your job to keep him warm.

your height makes it easy to hide things from him, so it's either he climbs on a table or chair to get things and he says he looks stupid while doing it so he just sulks and tantrums until you give it back.

he does make the classic stupid tall jokes, and when you've pissed him off, he'll call you 'a big dumb bastard' (ref to gigantomachia).

he has asked you how's the weather up there.

in crowded places in the malls he holds onto you because your taller than the average height in japan, which is only around 5'5-5'10, so that means you're kind of like walking in a pool of people and can help guide him to avoid being smushed.

you two attract some attention though, with your height and his already odd manerisms, people will stare.

If it isn't related to your quirk, he will ask why you're so damn big. what's your secret?

sometimes he stays awake longer than you on his bed because he loves it when you smush him and get ontop of him because your warm, you have weight, weighted blanket that heats him up, perfect.

please wear heels, oh my god, he loves it, platform boots? yes. anything that increases your height he's inlove and quietly encourages you to do it more (aka more chest nuzzles when you do).

if you're like tall tall, he'll make a comment on how you're just as tall as Kurogiri (6'4) but his master's still taller. (7'4)he will rant about his master if you ask or say anything back.

if your a woman, boobs for days, he will have his face all up in them when you're in his room.

if you're a man, pecs for days, he will be touchy with you no matter what gender, he'll probably treasure you so much to the point the only time he'll sleep beside you is when he has his special gloves from when he was a little kid.

NSFW AHEAD!

sex is honestly really good with him. even if you're riding him, you can still pin his hands down, if you're under him, you can grab at his body as much as you want.

if you're doing it sideways, nudge his face into your neck and tell him to keep making those pretty noises.

if it's from the back his face will unfortunately be rested right against your back and sometimes it can cause you to overheat :(

overall, sex with him, you're mostly a powerbottom, but he doesn't know that. he thinks you're so submissive unless you're actively voicing that you're dominating him.

His favorite position is missionary by far, he loves humping into you while his face is buried into your chest, hearing your rapid heartbeat too and his arms hugging your waist tightly.

please wrap your legs around his waist when he cums, he'll give you an extra load if you do.

sometimes he'll pull out after he's made you cum so he can jerk off to your body and spill his load on your stomach or thighs.

if he's at the bottom or you're doing foreplay, please press his legs against his chest and make him feel small. he won't admit it but he really likes it.

like i said, for some reason he's really cold so whenever he blows his load and he's resting he'll press against you and for some reason his body is covered in cold sweat. it's odd.

when you're riding him, pull his hair, or grab the bundle of fringe by his face an use another hand to cup the back of his head so you can tilt it upwards and ravage his neck. he'll cum quick but he can recover fast, he promises.

please hold him by the armpits, don't actually pick him up it makes him feel weird when it's like that but when you're in bed and feeling him up, hold him there and run your hands up and down all the way to his hips.

his favourite thing to do is quietly motorboat your chest, he'll make the noises in his head but in reality he just looks really stupid, it's hard not to laugh so he mostly does it when you're half awake.

—Ake 2024

[iceunhie]

synopsis: Kaveh doesn’t really like Christmas shopping with you for one (1) reason: You have horrible taste in matching Christmas outfits. 

warnings: 1.1k words, slight mention of Cyno and Tighnari, small mention of Collei BC she's my daughter my baby fr, modern au!! bff kaveh has my heart honestly he'd be such a good friend yet u still have to tell him to take a breather on his issues like get this man some help pls judgy kaveh but he swears it's in good faith lol

mhie’s notes: participating in @2023gisecretsanta's secret santa event! this piece is for the wonderful @june-again <3 i hope you enjoy this fic and have a wonderful happy holidays !! took a little break from romantic writing since you said you preferred platonic heehee,,, i shuld really write for kaveh more he's so silly

“No.”

You sigh, before plastering your best sopping wet cat expression. “Please, Kaveh? My wonderful, amazing, incredibly talented, bestest friend—”

“First of all, gross–” you stick out your tongue at him. “And second, [Name], I already told you this a million times and I'm going to say it again. I will not be caught dead in that… that abomination.” 

“C’mon, pleasee? It's just to take pictures with, I swear!” you say as you shove the red, abnormally large Christmas jacket to your best friend’s face, trying to at least get him to relent for just a few minutes. You do not succeed, and this only furthers the mortification in his eyes. This has been something Kaveh had been dreading for a long time already. 

It'd been a pretty okay day, his design for a new architecture project was approved and he was looking forward to excitedly sharing the news with you over a nice meal after work, only to be faced with the hell that is Christmas shopping near the Grand Bazaar in downtown Sumeru with Cyno and Tighnari, who are currently browsing through the rows of nice ‘make-your-own-plushie’ kits to give to Collei as a gift.

After you lot met up after your respective work and caught up by a delicious meal in a fancy restaurant (his wallet is screaming bloody murder right now though), the first stop he was immediately dragged to was a clothing store by you, and normally he would gladly pick outfits with you without complaint, but you were a huge fan of picking these tacky (sorry, but it's true) Christmas jackets that came in pairs to match with him. Best friend privileges, you say, but that absolutely clashes with his style. Like, he loves you, really, you're his friend and partner in crime and probably the only person he trusts more than Al-haitham, that bastard, anyway, but that (the sweater) is nothing but a fashion disaster waiting to unfold.

So he crosses his arms, Kaveh giving you a withering stare. “In the first place, why this sweater of all things? And that color?!” 

“It looks good on you! See, it even matches with your eyes! It's modern.”

“It's horrendous, that's what.” 

“Hey! You criticizing my style choices now?”

“Uh, duh? Why else are we friends? Why else am I your best friend, huh?” 

“Still, it's the holidays, so indulge me just this once, please?” 

“Excuse you, just this once? Last year was that green jacket that was too itchy for me to even wear! And the Christmas tree design in it wasn't even halfway finished!” 

“Hey! The Christmas tree print on it was still cute though, don't lie. And you wore it anyway.” you say dismissively, and you press against the sleeves of the jacket.

“Well, yeah, but–” Kaveh stops himself, before giving you an exasperated expression. “Wait, no, that isn't the point here! The point is, we should just look for better options!”

“Aww, but this one has a reindeer and elf print on this….” you sigh, disappointed. Kaveh eyes you with skepticism before turning to the aforementioned sweater. 

Okay, maybe it wasn't so bad… the reindeer print and the elves helping out the Santa Claus on the jacket front was kinda endearing… wait, no, don’t be swayed! 

“In any case,” he snips, putting a hand on his face and eyeing you distrustfully, “We can talk about that—” he gives the jacket a horrendous look of distaste, “later. For now we should just meet up with Cyno and Tighnari.” 

Before Kaveh can exit the store, however, you pull him back. “Nuh uh! Those two are going to take forever getting presents and you know it.” and just when he thought he dodged a bullet, you immediately give him the jacket, send him over to the fitting rooms and even have the mind to say ‘take your time!’ and then leave him be.

So, inside the fitting room, Kaveh can only try to struggle to find the utter appeal of the very, very questionably designed Christmas Jacket. There are two beings on his shoulder right now, the one with imaginary angel wings and of course, the one that's undoubtedly the devil.

‘Do it for [Name]! Please, this is exclusive best friend privilege and you're just going to throw it away? This is tradition!’ the nicer one says, endlessly using his moral compass as means for Kaveh to accept, and he almost does, really, but of course, with the angel comes the devil.

‘[Name] will understand if you don't wanna wear it! Besides, they've never had the best taste in fashion when it comes to Christmas jackets! Surely just one refusal won't hurt?’ 

“Okay, stop, stop!! I'm getting too into my head right now, I have to weigh the options….” Kaveh mentally chides himself and the little voices in his head, but ultimately comes up in a slump; on one hand, refusing you was fine, he knew that you would respect his decision, as you had always had. But… if he accepted just one night of humiliation, which will no doubt come in the form of Al-haitham and Cyno giving subtle and noticeable teasing when all of you gather around the local Lambad’s Tavern to celebrate Christmas Eve. Heck, even Collei would probably give him a look of pity! Kaveh hates it, really, but then again, it was just one night….

And you’d be disappointed! Also, what if instead of him who has to endure the matching Christmas jackets, what if you would match with someone else? No way, no way. Those were his best friend privileges and he was not forsaking them. Hmm, this was seriously a hard decision to make.

One day of humiliation versus the loss of potentially Kaveh’s and your Christmas tradition forever and likely the appearance of being a horrid friend– okay, he was overreacting here, but still! A horrid friend to you. Would he, in all his good conscience, really turn you down?

“Ooh, looking good there. I told you it wasn’t too bad!” you’re smiling and slightly smirking (no doubt you knew about his moral dilemma) at him when Kaveh comes out of the fitting room, donning the very oversized, very unfashionable jacket. “Oh my god, Al-haitham is never ever going to let you live this down.”

“Yeah, I can see that.” he grumbles, clearly swatting your phone away. “Can we just get it over with now? I swear I'm going to be so sweaty in this jacket. You’re lucky you have best friend perks.”

“Heh, don’t mention it! No one can resist my wonderful and amazing personality. Now, wear this too-!”

“Wait, hey! I never agreed to the Christmas hat-! Hey, [Name]!”

@ MHIIEEE 2023 : do not copy, repost or plagiarize my work.

[winwintea]

Blame it on my Disney Wish (Prologue)

PAIRING ▸ wayv x fem!reader 

GENRES ▸ romance, fluff, crack, angst, acquaintances to lovers, disney park au, college au

WARNINGS ▸ profanity, sexual jokes, alcohol consumption, chenle gets bullied a lot, kun also gets bullied a lot, everyone gets bullied a lot, 

SUMMARY ▸ kun takes the boys to disney world, funded by his sugar daddy chenle. however none of them were prepared for you to tag along, more or less even be affected by that cliche disney magic. but hey, maybe dreams really do come true? 

TAG LIST ▸ (send me an ask here if you’d like to be added! + those tagged will be in the tag list of all chapters of this series!)

RELEASE DATE ▸ no schedule haha... i work at my own pace guys!

WORD COUNT ▸ 1.1k words

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ welcome to my first ever fic? this is a “choose your own route” kind of series, so no need to read in order! i’ll be updating one chapter at a time, finishing off all chapter 1’s before i move onto the chapter 2’s. this originally started off as a crack fic idea that turned into a romance. thank u for taking the time to indulge in my silly fic. i’m very into disney parks so this was very fun to write. PLEASE ALSO READ THE PROLOGUE BEFORE READING THE CHAPTERS!

“Could we maybe go to Disney?”

Little did Qian Kun know, was that this innocent question would be the reason why Kun, and 6 other idiots were now at Walt Disney World with you.

That day, Dong Si Cheng, Kun’s roommate, asked a simple question. That had a simple answer: No. But what happened instead, wasn’t as simple. If it were any other one of his idiotic friends he would’ve turned them down straight away, but the request had to come from the mouth of Dong Si Cheng instead. There was no way Kun could resist the temptation of seeing those eyes look dejected after he rejected that wish of Si Cheng’s. 

“Sure, I’ll see what I can do.” Was what HE SHOULD NOT HAVE SAID. but he did.

As soon as Kun walked out of Si Cheng’s room, his smile quickly turned into a frown. How the hell was he going to accomplish this? They were pretty much broke college students, no freetime, and no clout. Actually the last part was a lie. They were pretty popular amongst most of the students of their school. Mingled with most people, went to parties, drank a lot, you get the gist. Yet, that wasn’t enough clout to magically grant them a Disney trip. That shit only happened in movies. Disney movies. 

“Couldn’t help but overhear that sad conversation.” Kun turned his head to see a familiar face, one that happened to belong to his ‘bestie’ Ten. He was using the term ‘bestie’ lightly. They’d known each other for years, but still bickered and teased each other over everything. Ten’s real name was ‘Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul’, but of course no one could pronounce that so everyone just called him Ten instead. It made life simpler. 

“Oh yeah? Like you could do anything better.” 

Ten cocked his head to the side, “What? Can’t stop being a people pleaser for once and reject someone for a change?” “I’d love to see you try. Why don’t you go tell him ‘no’ instead, so we don’t have to shovel out our own money to pay for this damn trip?” Kun knew Ten loved a good challenge, and that Ten was as equally broke as he was, so maybe he could convince Ten to persuade Si Cheng.

Ten looked at him for a few seconds, rolled his eyes, and walked right into Si Cheng’s room. Kun glanced at his watch, wanting to see how long it would take. 

“You don’t need to tell me Ten. I heard everything outside, I… understand.” Kun could hear Si Cheng’s faint voice from the door, and his heart ached a little. The sadness in his tone was very obvious. “I was being selfish… I’m sorry.” 

“N-Nononoofcoursenot!” Ten blabbered out. Suddenly Ten opened the door again, spotted Kun and pulled Kun back into the room with him. “Tell him Kun! We were just planning the dates right, weren’t we Kun?” 

Fuck this bastard. Kun could imagine it in his head. Right here, right now. His hands wrapped tightly around Ten’s neck. And when he was done, he would know exactly where to put the bo- Err… Just kidding. There would be a witness anyways. A witness that was currently giving him a puzzled look. 

“Uhm… yeah yeah… yeah right we were just booking flights that’s all. And if it… sounded like we weren’t gonna go uh… we were just… joking, right?” Kun looked at Ten for support. If Ten was gonna throw Kun under the bus then he needed all the help he could get.

“Yeah yeah. We’ll go to your favorite park!” Ten winked at Si Cheng, still nervously looking at Kun. “I like all of them though…” 

That’s it. Kun grabbed on Ten’s arm, as equally hard as Ten had done to him earlier, dragging him out of Si Cheng’s room once again. This time, Kun and Ten positioned themselves strategically in the kitchen where Kun’s beloved roommate wouldn’t be able to hear their conversation. However as they made their way into the kitchen to see a shorter boy standing at the sink peeling an orange. “Chenle, how the fuck do you keep getting into our dorm room?” Kun stared at Chenle as he was nonchalantly peeling his orange. 

The younger boy grinned at the two. “Si Cheng gave me his spare key. He wanted to learn how to play basketball, so I’ve been teaching him.”

Chenle was a basketball prodigy and had gotten into their school on a scholarship because of it. He was only 2 grades below Kun, but somehow they shared most of their classes with each other. Chenle would always pester Kun whenever he could and did anything he could to make his life miserable. “Okay, so why are you here now? Si Cheng did not look like he was about to play basketball at all.” Chenle popped an orange slice in his mouth. “Silly! I’m here for you! Well, see I originally was going to bother you like I normally do, y’know” He ignored Kun’s glare and continued on, “But then… I was hungry so I got a snack.” He motioned to the orange in his hands and ate another slice, “Also whoever made that Pumpkin Pie, that was absolutely fire.” 

“Fuck you that was my last slice” Ten crossed his arms, and joined Kun in scowling at the younger boy.

“Yeah well. Sorry. I guess. Not really. I would do it again in a heartbeat. Regardless, while eating the pie I witnessed your little disney dilemma and I have a proposal to make.” Kun eyed Chenle suspiciously as he continued on, “I’ll pay for your little trip. Flights, Tickets, Fastpasses, Food, everything!” 

Kun completely forgot that Chenle’s family was loaded. He glanced at Ten then back at Chenle. “And what do you want in return? Is there a catch?”

Chenle looked at them with a more mischievous grin in comparison to the ones he had been giving them before. “No catch! You just have to take me and my best friend, y/n with you.”

MASTERLIST

[drusill]

Ik u don’t ship spuffy, but if u did what would their memorable moment be?

not sure why someone would ask me this, but i guess i’ll indulge you. it was buffy defending herself against spike. she finally realized that spike needs a good humbling, and she served it to him. spike was not only soulless, but spineless. he couldn’t handle buffy’s rejection and made it a job to pursue her relentlessly. like yes spike was sweet, but he was also a bastard who needed his fangs knocked out a few times. that was a pivotal moment because it exposed spike’s blissful ignorance towards having a soul.

[starheirxero]

HOLY SHIT- HOLY. SHIT. I CAN'T BELIEVE, EVIL EARTH IS BACK-

I HONESTLY DIDN'T THINK, WE'D HEAR FROM THE OTHER DIMENSIONS AGAIN-

THIS ENTIRE EPISODE WAS SO FASCINATING!!!

Earth's entire character revolves around making people happy! She is the caretaker, the therapist, the golden child.

She is kind to a fault, always wanting everyone to be happy, and putting the people around her above her.

She was created and taught to do so. It's her purpose.

THIS IS SUCH A CLEVER SPIN TO HER CHARACTER-

Taking the character trait that defines her the most, and twisting it into something sinister?? Holy shit, I love that!!!

This truly makes her feel in-character, while still giving her a chilling edge!

Instead of simply trying to make people happy, she's actively forcing them to! Even brainwashing them with camps!

And if they can't be happy? If they won't be? Then they are tainting her perfect utopia, and need to die.

This Earth seems to idolize the Creator a lot more, or he, at the very least, generally seems to have rubbed off on her, considering her apathy towards her sinister actions!

I cannot describe to you, how much I love this!!

I'm also really interested in her dynamic with her brothers, and the general world-building!

For one, she actively mentions, that their hatred for her comes from a place of prejudice, because she's a robot. The Creator's robot, to make it worse.

I love, how they consistently throw in humans' distaste for animatronics, and the latter's lack of rights!

Though in this case, that's definitely not it-

She also generally seems to take more of an older sister role? The way she talks to her Lunar sounds like an indeared older sibling, using a higher tone and generally seeming amused by their antics! Also her mentions of them being "silly" again, much like an older sibling indulging in her little sibling's games. This also plays into her patiently explaining everything.

I can't quite say for her dynamic with Moon, though it has shifted somehow!

There's little to go off, when analyzing the brothers, though they too seem generally more apathetic, and honestly tired. Especially Moon.

It's also interesting to note, that this Lunar apparently has a lot of memory issues, the humans actively meddling with their systems to put them against their sister! So much so, that Earth seems very much used to it!

This world fascinates me so much, and I hope, we'll see them again!

With her comeback, I also have hopes to see the other AUs again!

Listen- I need Lunara to make an appearance- I need them to be an antagonistic maniac- I need to know more about their resets, and how long it's been going on- I need them in my life-

I really hope to see a glimpse of Lord Lunar and Servant Eclipse again, and see if their dynamic has shifted since Gregory came by-

I want God Eclipse to be a smug bastard-

I also want go give a shout out to Ruin for being absolutely UNHINGED when it comes to building- Buddy legit built a high tech spaceship in underneath a year, and got a hold on several whiterstorm pieces-

And it feels CRIMINAL not to at least mention Earth's dream episode- Which I haven't done, cause brain fog-

It made me incredibly emotional too!! It's just-

The atmosphere was so incredibly somber…

Earth KNEW, he wasn't real, yet still found comfort in his memory-

OUCH-

-Stardust

YEHWYSYAYAYYAYAYA I KNOW RIGHT!!!!! GENUINELY I'M SO HAPPY THEY BROUGHT HER BACK AND SHOWED OFF MORE OF HER CHARACTER AND HER WORLD IT MADE ME SO HAPPYYYY!!!! I always thought it was a lil weak sauce that, last time, they just went "she's a dictator, evil enough!" so having them revisit her to elaborate and make her properly villainous is EVERYTHING TO MEEEE

AND YEA YEA YEA I LOVEEEE HOW THEY TWISTED HER MOTIVE!!! Exactly like u said abt her having more the Creator's influence, I adore that it's still distinctly her goal, it's just that she's not as emphatic about what she has to do to achieve that goal! And YEA the fact people were particularly displeased about her being the Creator's creation fascinates me.

In my heart I'm imagining someone in her universe made a very online callout post about her and her ties to the creator HSKAHSKS "ouf, unfollowing her now. i was a fan of her 'keep everyone happy' goal but i didn't know she was made by That guy 😬" LMAO

BUT ALSO WITH HER SIBLINGS YEAH YEAH YEAH!!!!! She's definitely more authoritative with them, especially with Moon just outright calling her "boss"?!?!!! Whatever is happening there has me SO INTRIGUED. It definitely make me wonder what the lead-up to all this looked like...

I was sort of talking about smth similar with a friend earlier, like. if any of them ever pushed back at any point, only to be put in their place, or if they've just always been too scared to work against her.....

SPECIFICALLY LUNAR HAS ME SO FASCINATED THO YEAH. I cannot explain why for the lofe of me but the fact they're usually a target of the rebel's attacks and have constant memory issues as a result just scratches smth in my brain I rlly like it HAKAHXK

AND YEAAAHHHHHH OH MY STARS IF ANY OTHER AUS ARE REVISITED I THINK I'D GENUINELY ASCEND. MY SOUL WOULD LEAVE MY BODY. EXTRA DETAILS AND INTERACTIONS... TSAMS... TLAES... IF YOU HEAR ME PLEASE HAJAHAJAHS

ANS RUIN YEAHSJQHSKHS IDK HOW ELSE TO DESCRIBE IT BUT LIKE. LITERAL SOLAF BEHAVIOR. THEY BOTH APPARENTLY LOVE TO WORK THEMSELVES SILLY 😭 AND EARTH'S EP I KNOWWW I KNWOEHHRGRHEGRHRGRG

Genuinely that whole ep was DEVASTATING. The whole "you don't know what he'd say, do you?" coming out of his own mouth had me MESSED UPPP 😭😭😭 1 MILLION EMOTIONS ATTACK FOREVER