#like obviously that connection is never going to go away entirely but their are ways for it to be less a corrosive expression of grief

[randomshyperson]

The Bed Issue - Wanda Maximoff Oneshots

Summary: Another retake of Wandavision, this time, the scene with the two single beds.

Warnings: (+18) pure smut, enchanted strap, fingering, creampie, wanda is in charge but r tops, dirty talking, some typical Westview angst (brief reality alteration) but purely sinful | Words: 3.284k

A/N-> At this point, I feel I should start a new collection with all the scenes I rewrote. I miss writing series people, where are my ideas. Also, sorry if there are too many spelling errors, I wrote this on my phone (it's hard to be poor and busy). But good reading!

General Masterlist | AO3

-&-

The sign of two single beds in the room made you giggle right away.

Wanda, who walked in first, looked back at you with curiosity. Her gaze scanned your face as she asked: “What's funny, darling?”

Your eyes found her and a deep sigh escaped your lips, the ghost of that giggle still present in your expression. 

“The beds, Wanda.” You replied quickly, almost offended she couldn't see the absurdity of that. Maybe she was playing innocent. Or at least, that's what her confused gaze looked like. Another sign escaped you. “Why would a married couple sleep on different beds, side by side?”

“Well, I…” but she cut herself mid-sentence, her gaze shifted as if she realized that really didn't make any sense. “I guess you're right.”

The bed moved as quickly as her fingers - the wood jumping to the side to connect and transform into one bed. You smile, moving forward to kiss your wife's cheek.

“Lovely tricks as always, darling.” You praise, catching the soft color rising up her skin before you step to the bathroom. But you comment again, giggling: “How odd that was, two beds.”

Distracted by your own joke, you didn't catch Wanda's shoulder tension. And she could only force a smile, giving a quick gaze at your figure brushing your teeth while mentality praying that for the sake of her poor heart, you wouldn't notice any other weirdness tonight.

-&-

A stupid tree.

A stupid tree branch against the window and things got out of hand completely. At least this time, in a good sense of things.

That is because Wanda found herself pressed into the bed, giggling at our bold hands under her clothes.

She remembers this teasing all too well. Beyond the sexual tension, and the teenage hormones, there was intimacy. You could always make her laugh, no matter the situation. Often, you would do that in inappropriate ones that's for sure. Just for the satisfaction of making her blush deeply when apologizing to whoever was around to testify you making a mess out of her. And then when in a situation like tonight, where it was too hard to breathe and too warm for a coherent thought - teasing fingers where she had tickles was the perfect way to ease her anxiety. To anchor her back and remember it's just you. Her best friend. Warming your way around her skin.

But things were a little - a lot - different in Westview. Neither of you knows why or how, or better saying, Wanda knew to a different extent than you.

When she brought the covers up your bodies, taking the lead for the night and expecting to meet your eagerness to kiss her again, she was met with more giggles.

She stared down at your shiny eyes, leaning into the hand you brought to her cheek.

“It's too warm here.” You let her know softy, and yes, Wanda was quite aware. Kissing you was more than enough to heat her entirely, but doing this under the covers was a challenge. She could feel the sweat starting to drip. She was ready to say she didn't mind, maybe even kiss you to change the subject when you added: “Why would you cover us anyway, darling? There's no one watching.”

It was meant to be a joke, obviously. You don't know. You couldn't know. And your eyes were innocent and your smile was sincere and Wanda hesitated.

Your hand remains on her cheek, the caress never stopping.

“Did I say something wrong? Where did you go just now?” 

She went outside. Outside the hex, all the way to monitors transmitting her sitcom of a fake life. But not really. Because she didn't consciously know about any of this. Yet, some part of her mind did know, and all the TVs that once exhibited her little show, now hold a Stand By sign. 

Wanda was the one who threw the covers aside. The fresh air was well welcome but you're now distracted with the gorgeous woman moving to straddle your hips.

“You're right, there's no one watching.” She says with the same urgency she burst open your pajama shirt. You don't understand the rush, but she looks too pretty for you to disagree. And Wanda purrs at the sight of your naked skin, biting her lips like a naughty child. “I missed you.”

You chuckle breathlessly, some confusion in your eyes. “I was with you all day.”

She shook her head, deciding now to control her tongue. If she doesn't want you questioning, she needs to stop saying things like this. So she forces a smile, shifting against your hips in a way that makes your breath catch in your throat. “I always miss my wife, I mean. Whenever she's not touching me.”

Even though you offer her a grin, there's a blush in your cheeks that goes down your chest and Wanda suddenly doesn't feel like talking anymore.

A feeling you two seem to share as you bring a hand to her face only to pull her down at you again. It's a heated kiss. With tongue and breathy whispers that turn her into needy sounds. 

Even without the covers, it's soon too hot to keep clothes on. 

You're the one who takes her nightgown off. Pulling down as your tongues dance together, until the item no longer hides the tits you started to play it. 

Wanda's eyes are tightly closed as your mouth sucks her nipple. Your hand plays with the other while she struggles to breathe. 

Her top needs to go, but so does all the other clothing. The nightgown barely reached the floor and you're already pulling at her soaked panties, eager to feel her inside.

“Need this off you now, witchy.” The nickname makes her gasp. You haven't used it until now and it has been way too long since she heard. Since you- 

No. No thinking about this, not now.

She forces herself back to the present, an easy task when she feels every inch of her skin burning with your touch. She needs to move away to take the item off but your hands hold her tight by the waist at the mere attempt of breaking apart.

She giggles breathlessly, aware of the new wave of wetness that dripped down with the feeling of your strong hands manhandling her back at her position, keeping her restless hips still. “But you said you wanted it off.” She tries to ration, receiving only a growl in return. The next second, when your hands shift, the item is torn off her without ceremony. 

“Hey! It was my favorite.” She pouts in protest but you merely give her a husky chuckle.

“I'm sure you can fix it.” Comes as a teasing answer that Wanda couldn't contradict even if she wanted to - all previous thoughts are gone when your fingers reach her front and penetrate between her warm folds without a warning. You groan at the delirious feeling of her pussy against your fingertips while Wanda whimpers at the ceiling, trying to get used to the sudden invasion.

“Fuck, you're so tight.” Your remark with a sultry voice against her ear. Wanda's arm circles your shoulder for some support while she feels the stretch of your fingers inside her. It's been a while since last time but dear God how she missed this. Her hips move on instinct and you have to chuckle at her impatience with herself. Your free hand moves to her lower back, caressing her skin while your fingers start to press your way inside her.

“Easy darling, I got you.” You guide, too deeply for her to give you any replies other than pleas and whimpers.  The position might not be the most comfortable for you but it's amazing to her. Wanda can grind down and ride your fingers as she pleases and you can feel how close she's coming to her climax so you don't dare to stop. Your thumb moves to her clit, circling the nerve and she nearly loses it. The bedroom lights start to flash with the build of this orgasm and you stare at her in amazement only to be rewarded with her gorgeous flushed face while she grinds into your hand in nearly despair.

“Fuck you're so beautiful.” You gasp, increasing the speed. The depth. Wanda breaks in a sob, her back arching. The first one is a charm. Your name is being screamed at the ceiling while you feel her wetness dripping down your hand. Unfortunately - or fortunately - it only makes you crave her more. She's still recovering from the intensity of this climax, all sweaty and flushed when you shift your hand. You're still inside her tight walls and your fingers start to pick up a pace again. She squeaks at the overstimulation, but her protest dies in your tongue sucking hers when you kiss her again.

Wanda's almost too distracted by the filthy of this kiss to notice how quickly her second climax is building - almost. There's a bite against your bottom lip that makes you groan when she breaks the kiss, unable to keep it up. Her hands grab at you for some grounding when she feels how close she is to come, stronger than the last time. You feel her nails piercing your skin when her orgasm washes over her and it's your time to moan at her ear.

Her body goes limp for a moment after this. It was two intense orgasms in a row after all. She just needs to take a breath. 

You move your fingers out, sucking them clean and murmuring satisfied at her taste while Wanda struggles to recognize her surroundings.

When you can hold her with both hands again, you nuzzle at her cheek.

“Enjoying yourself, witchy?” You dare to tease her when she can feel how she's still leaking in your lap. Honestly, the nerve. Wanda let out a deep breath, pushing her momentarily tiredness away. 

There's an easy smile on her lips when she finds your eyes again. “I am but I've been so selfish.” She starts with a particular accentuation of her ascent that she knows you drive you insane. She also watches as your breath catches and your eyes drift to her lips, mesmerized by every word. “You must be needing me as well.”

But you tense at her nails screeching your belly, a worried frown coming at your expression.

“Wanda… my powers.” The fear in your eyes is like a cold buck of water. Oh, yes, she forgot.

For the whole day, she forgot you had no idea of the life you two shared. Nothing outside Westview and this lovely fantasy. None of the creative ways you two once used to bypass the super strength issue. Your fear and hesitation at hurting her made perfect sense but the fact that she was the only one who could remember the whole history you two shared was still painful. Her expression probably gave her away and confused you even more. “I promise you this is more than enough for me. Bringing you pleasure is enough.” You add gently, but Wanda shakes her head, leaning in to kiss you. She leaves you breathlessly before breaking apart, taking some pride in the way you're blushing.

“Don't be silly, darling, there's plenty of things for us to do together. To please one another.” You gulp at her words and tone of voice, eyes following all of her movements. From the shift of her hips to the teasing of her fingers on the way down your pants. “I wanna try something I think you'll love it. Do you trust me?”

You nod immediately, watching as Wanda's fingers play with the hem of your pants. She giggles naughty at your anticipation and brings one finger up to your chin, to make you look at her eyes again. 

“Can you use your words?”

“Y-yeah.” You swallow, trying to win some composure back. It's not easy when Wanda Maximoff is naked and sitting on your tight. But you smile anyway. “Of course I trust you, witchy.”

She smiles at you, her eyes flashing a glimmer of naughtiness that makes your heart leap. You can't worry too much about that anyway - Wanda leans in to kiss you again. And it's the dirtiest one of the night. She takes the lead, pulling back now and then just to tease your tongue with the tip of hers, reveling at the way you pant and struggle to keep your hips still. 

But suddenly, you feel the new pressure inside your pants. The odd sensation shifts your attention entirely but Wanda brings her hands to your neck and kisses you hard. You moan into her tongue, hands holding her tight by the waist until her spell is complete. She presses down into you and the kiss is broken with your needy awareness.

“F-fuck, is that…?” You open surprised and aroused eyes at her, looking down where your middles connect only to watch Wanda's equal affected state. Her trembling hands reach down at your pants, trying to pull the garment off.

“Yeah, and I really need you inside now, alright baby? Think you're ready for me?” Her words are rushed as her fingers. Your pants and underwear are stuck in an awkward position on your thighs because Wanda is too impatient to wait another second. She grabs the hardness - barely giving you time to get used to the image or more important the feeling - of that scarlet strap magically placed there - before she sinks down.

It's a form of revenge, maybe. For the way you didn't give her time to prepare before, but what a sweet revenge that was.

The nearly animalistic grunt that escaped you when Wanda's cunt squeezed around you was a sound you didn't know you could make. She, on the other hand, rewards your ears with a pleasant deep moan while she adjusts to the fullness. There's also a new stretch. The toy is obviously larger than your fingers and goes deliciously deeper so Wanda needs to take a deep breath while she welcomes you in.

To her delight, not that you can remember this, but just like the first time you two tried, it's too much of a new overwhelming pleasure for you to handle. You came almost the same second you're bottom up. Tensing and shaking at the new feeling. You gasp, hands falling at the sides to grab the sheets that are torn apart while you hide your face into her neck and your climax washes over you.

Wanda giggles in amusement. The hot shot inside her feels as good as she remembers and you haven't changed. But the toy softening causes you to panic.

“S-sorry, god, I'm so sorry. I don't-”

“Shh, it's okay.” She cuts your anxious babbling immediately, firming her legs around you and bringing her hands to hold your cheeks. “I know it feels like a real one, but it's not a real one.” She says and without any warning, grinds down at you, stealing all the air of your lungs. Wanda bites her lip before adding “See? You're hard again already.”

You can't give her words. The only thing that leaves your mouth is a whine that makes her clench around you. 

Suddenly, she's moving. Rough grinding before she's undeniably riding your strap and it's dirty and maddeningly sexy so your hands hold her hips and help her when her body starts to betray her wishes to keep going. 

“Oh, Wanda, you feel so nice.” You moan with your eyes closed, outside the shared grunts and your words, the only sounds of the room are the bed creaking and the soaked toy coming in and out of her. Your lovely wife decides to give you a reason to be louder. Her hands push you back at the bed and now you can see her in all of her glory. Her pretty tits bounce with the hard pace she takes on top of you. “W-wait. Easy, I can't hold it if you-” 

Her hands move yours - trying to slow her by the waist - away, locking your fingers together at each side of your head. Her hair makes a curtain for your faces but Wanda kisses you again. Your tongues are still moving together when you come first. 

Because you're strong - stronger than her that is - scarlet magic holds you still, wrists and ankles when Wanda can't. She holds her climax just a little longer, enough to put on a show for your breathless figure under her when you are able to look up at it. 

It's divine when it occurs - The silent scream, her frown before the blissed worn-out expression. The flags of the light, the room vibrating and her eyes bright red before the dark green meets your gaze again.

She smiles down at you, still shaking but somehow ready for another.

“Enjoying yourself aren't you, Avenger?” she repeats your words from before, but the nickname so often used for teasing makes you frown in confusion.

“What is…? But she changed that before you could finish the question. 

As quickly as it happened, the scene shifted as if the words never left her lips. You were staring at her, with uneven breathing and adoring eyes.

“Is this really necessary?” For a second, her heart leaped in fear. The possibility that you could tell she altered things. But your gaze shifted to the magic holding you still, and you offered her a pleading stare. “Won’t you let me touch you?”

Wanda sighs, adjusting your hips and seeing the way your jaw tenses at the slight movement. You're still inside her, always magically stimulated to be hard no matter how many times you come. It made sense that you might be sensitive.

She bit her bottom lip, hands resting on your chest.

“But you look so pretty like this…” She starts, leaning in as if going for a kiss. You sigh as her lips meet your cheeks instead, closing your eyes when you feel her smiling before moving down. “I like having you at my mercy.”

You hum, somewhat distracted by her soft grind against you. If you're hard again, that's not only the magic to blame but Wanda's warm pussy squeezing you still.

“But I'm like this all the time.” you joke earning a husky giggle before she puts some distance between your faces again.

You let out a deep sigh when she pulls out the next second, catching her own soft groan at the emptiness. But your words fail you when you look down and see the mixed cum leaking from her and dripping down your abs.

Cursing under your breath a single “fuck.” at the image, you are not surprised at Wanda's naughty giggle.

“You made such a mess, babe.” She teases, the toy still vibrating and it occurs to you that it doesn't just answer to your arousal, but hers as well. 

“Me? You're the one who, you know… ride it. I didn't even know I would come through it.” You tried to defend yourself with rosy cheeks but Wanda is clearly teasing you. She giggles again, adjusting herself and causing you to shut up immediately. 

“I think you should stop babbling and start cleaning your mess.”

You swallow hard when you realize she's still moving. Up towards your face. The bed makes a strong crack sound when you use all your strength to pull your hands free from her magic chains.

Wanda allows you to break free. Mainly because she loves to feel your hands holding her thighs open when you eat her out.

Some old habits never die.

[dicipher]

SPOILERS for homicipher lore

the hand is not Chopped's hands. He specifies MEETING it. Therefor it's a seperate entity. Ypu'l also notice that it moves independently from Chopped, touching the hand does not stimulate Chopped, he doesn't feel it, confirming this.

Silvair was the one to chop of Chopped's body. This is said. If we also go off the fact he chops Adami if we attack him too easily, we can safely assume Chopped was a human that was transformed into a resident as well. Which would be a confirmed 'ex human' character

On that note, Adami notes her hair graying after staying in the world too long. Other characters with gray hair includes the hairdresser and Silvair. Does that relate to anything? Maybe not. But if hair becoming lighter is a result of humans exposure to the other world, that could include us, silvair, hairdresser, hugeface, chopped (even if his hair is not gray, black could lighten into grey, and brown could lighten into pale orange in his case), while characters with dark hair (gap, crawling, scarlet) could be native to the other world..... it's very possible this is just unique to us though considering everything else that's special about Adami.

Gap lacks a body, heart, etc, but he does have hands. Gap also is able to 'teleport' trough these places, like wormholes, since he's able to drag us trough places that should never connect. He's also able to fit in any space so long as it is: dark enough.

Silvair purely 'likes' us as a science experiment. Yes he is polite, yes he is kind, but that should not be mistaken with empathy. He specifies, if you ask him if he likes you, that he does not. He finds you entertaining. And he specifies he does not understand 'like' (in japanese like and love are pretty much the same word, so this essentially translates to saying "i don't understand love"). (Though because we just asked, it could be him saying "i don't understand why you're thinking i love you") either way, Silvair does not think of us romantically.

Our ability to regenerate our body entirely seems special. Silvair points out he finds it interesting, and Silvair is able to do it too (saying he will regenerate after we kill him) whereas any other creature we are able to kill doesn't display that ability.

It's not ENTIRELY clear what kind of power names hold to their kind. Scarletella getting our name is obviously: not good™️, but us giving him a name seems to make him our servant in some way. If you say Silvair's name in his route, he looks confused, and is quiet for a bit. Perhaps because in a way, you named him in that moment. Names deeply correlate to a person's identity, and it seems residents either do not have names (are not born with them) or lose them following their transformation in some way. Unclear on that. But NAMES. NAMES RELEVANT.

Considering Human's presence (in the original, he speaks english, while everyone else (other human characters) speaks japanese), either the world has different ways of entering (stuff 'falling' into the world seems to confirm that the elevator is not the only way in/out, it's just the ghost apartments way in/out), or he's a foreigner who happened to go by....

Residents exclusively feed on flesh and blood. Interestingly, though. When first meeting Stitch, he seems surprised to see a human (pointing and exclaiming "human!", asks crawling a bunch of questions, and finally asks crawling permission to eat us, specifying "they could be tasty!", which could indicate that either humans are rare in some way, or that stitch has never personally seen one, or he could see them plenty and just be curious about all of them like he was for us. Considering some don't seem to even recognize us as human (Chopped introduces us as a resident to Silvair even though Silvair recognizes us as human right away. This is early story too, so we aren't residents yet.), i think i'm leaning towards the fact most resident don't know what a human even really looks like. Thus, what are they eating? Probably each other. The food on the painting's plate, the meat on Silvair's table, and the mush Silvair turns into if you kill him all look very simmilar. This is also 100% confirmed, since Crawling specifies the ears he found are a resident's, before eating them at the end of the interaction. So residents most definitely engage in cannibalism, and eating humans is probably not necessarily their primary diet. (Except for Scarletella who we were unknowingly giving tons of human meat to by bringing the bodies to the ghost apartments for disposal. That's like some stranger delivering tons of rare expensive food to your porch. I'd fall in love too buddy.

[twisting-roads]

DEBUNKING COMMON RAIN WORLD MISINTERPRETATIONS

The target audience for this was for people who don't know too much about the game as well, so I'm going to explain things that a normal player might already know.

Rain World is known for how it simply throws you into the world with almost no tutorial, and is often praised for it.

But this lack of explanation if you do not go out of your way to find it has also lead to a lot of misinterpretations from those who did not read all the game’s available information, or misunderstood what they were being told. I used to watch some RW lore videos that would explain and summarize these things, and in the past I believed them.

I’ve since stopped doing that after having some time to actually process what I’ve been reading, and I’m here to say...

YOU ARE ALL WRONG ABOUT RAIN WORLD.

Ok, hyperbole. Not everyone believes these, and art can always be interpreted in different ways by different people, and I won’t stop you from having these beliefs. But also, there’s plenty of ingame content which completely disproves most of these unsubstantiated points from those who do not fully research the game before making videos about it.

Looking at you Tale Foundry…

The purpose of this is to pick apart some of the sadly far too common points I’ve heard many times before from Youtube videos, to Tumblr posts, to people I’ve spoken to on Discord.

Starting with my least favorite…

------

“The 5 karma were seen as sinful”

Obvious westernization of a game based off fucking Buddhism aside, there’s no ingame text directly supporting this claim. There isn’t any that says otherwise, but we have good reason to believe this isn’t the case.

The 5 natural urges, as they’re sometimes called, were NATURAL. They were what bound you to the cycle. They never worsened your life or made you a terrible person should you keep following them, but an aspect of life on the same level as suffering or ecstasy.

Hey, I’ll break down the 5 karma and their meanings to show you that they're not just "sins"

I believe the natural urges have 2 different meanings: an animalistic one, and a more “human” one.

KARMA 1 This obviously represents violence, as you see one guy stabbing the other. I believe it also represents competition and intense emotions, For example: Artificer experiencing intense grief and lashing out in violence as a result. It was not the violence that started it, but her emotions. (Yes, its Downpour. But it’s a good point.)

KARMA 2

They’re having sex. They’re fucking. They’re- ok you get it. Karma 2 represents reproduction. But, I also believe it’s desire. Joyful bodily experiences, and such. The 2 figures seen here are in a much more playful pose than if they were simply doing this only to reproduce. No, they’re having fun.

KAMRA 3 Connection. Bonding with others. Yet also trade and personal belongings. Attachment to things that are not yourself.

KARMA 4 It’s mentioned ingame that this represents gluttony It’s overindulgence, you know. Similarly to karma 2, it can also be searching for fulfillment. I'm not particularly good at telling what the meaning of this could be.

KARMA 5 Self preservation. Self preservation can come in many forms, from an animal running away from a predator or somebody getting defensive after being accused of something or being threatened, this one is rather vague about its meaning.

I do this to show that the 5 urges have very NEUTRAL meanings. It being positive or negative is entire dependant on context. They’re not sinful, get out of here with that Catholic shit!

The 5 karmas have both positive, negative, and neutral contexts which they can fit into.

------

“The ancients hated being alive”

The ancients simply hated the cycle itself and its unknowable properties, as well as being much more aware of things like karma and the urges. Rather, they valued being effortless to disconnect themselves from this cycle.

“This was an eternal dilemma to them - they were burdened by great ambition, yet deeply convinced that striving in itself was an unforgivable vice. They tried very hard to be effortless.” – Bright Green Pearl (DS)

Some practices did of course include things like starving yourself, but as mentioned by Moon, these methods proved to be mostly obsolete. Void Fluid fundamentally changed their culture from what we see. Rather, we do see the ancients enjoying life and valuing it in their own way, which is INCREDIBLY important to some of the games themes, but I’ll get into that later.

"[...]'In this vessel is the living memories of Seventeen Axes, Fifteen Spoked Wheel, of the House of Braids[…] Seventeen Axes, Fifteen Spoked Wheel nobly decided to ascend in the beginning of 1514.008, after graciously donating all (ALL!) earthly possessions to the local Iterator project (Unparalleled Innocence), and left these memories to be cherished by the carnal plane.The assorted memories and qualia include:Watching dust suspended in a ray of sun (Old age). Eating a very tasty meal (Young child). Defeating an opponent in a debate contest, and being applauded by fellow team members (Late childhood/Early adulthood).’...and the list goes on. I'm sorry, little creature, I won't read all of this - the list is six hundred and twenty items long.” – Deep Magenta (SH)

There’s quite a lot to pick apart here, I had to cut down some parts short, but even the cut parts have important details. Just not important enough for me to bring up here.

The Memory Crypts we see ingame are… well where memories are kept. The qualia (personalized experiences) is stored within these mutated fleshy neural organisms referred to as “cabinet beasts”. These of course, contain the “living memories” or qualia of those who have ascended. There are people smarter than me who have already covered these ideas of course, so I won't go TOO indepth.

The ancients greatly valued titles and achievements just as us. They still lived normal lives. As well as this, they valued personal experiences and memories of the carnal realm so much they built an entire citadel to store memories.

As we can see as well, Seventeen Axes has quite a lot of enjoyable memories from throughout their life. Eating nice food and winning a debate contest and getting validation from their peers? That sounds rather… complacent with the 3rd and 4th natural urges, doesn’t it?

I do not believe this screams “I hate being alive!” as much as people have made it out to be, and is honestly ruins part of the game’s messages of compassion and personalized experiences, especially in the game’s ending where Survivor dreams of home.

“You have no name. I once had! I was embalmed, adorned, readied for the journey. So proud. There was jubilation! My name was sung, loud and clear. Did they know? That I didn't quite leave, didn't quite stay? Should I be ashamed? That I linger here, where my memories are kept? Should I be ashamed that I now envy your flesh prison?” - Four Needles under Plentiful Leaves

This is leaning into personal theory territory, but...

I personally believe that the ancients were somewhat terrified of the unpredictability of the cycle and the fact that life would always have more suffering in it.

RW’s religion is heavily based off Buddhism. This is well known of course. The Cycle is a variation of Samsara. Now, I’m not Buddhist, and I’ve tried to do my research about some of these topics. Feel free to correct me, I’m simply going off what I know. (Also I'd love to hear what you have to say regarding your thoughts on the game!)

In Buddhism, each new life you could be taken into the body of an animal, or even end up being tortured in hell for a very, very, VERY long time if you made the wrong decisions, which made escaping it as soon as you could seem like a rather reasonable thing to do.

The ancients never fully grasped the scope of the cycle, and the prospects of having your soul wake up in the body of some miserable worm with no memory of your past or any ideas of your future might’ve seemed bleak.

Suffering is inevitable. But that doesn’t mean they hated being alive, like I said before.

------

“Rain World is post-apocalyptic.”

It really isn’t. There was never any apocalypse. The ancients simply left on their own accord, leaving behind their mark on the world that will slowly be buried once again in the ever so present cycle.

“The bones of forgotten civilizations, heaped like so many sticks.” - Two Sprouts, Twelve Brackets

The world is thriving, even. The purposed organisms left behind have evolved and taken over and become it’s own ecosystem.

The iterators are dying though. Dying very slowly, but soon they’ll all decay and everything will move on.

It’s all just another manifestation of the cycle.

------

“The creatures in Rain World cannot die”

This is definitely something I hear from people who haven’t played much of the game and only hear about it from outside sources and watch the gameplay.

Yes, it is easy to believe this. As slugcat, when you die, you wake back up again. This is entirely a gameplay thing and not actually related to the lore. Saying this might seem like I'm avoiding the question at hand here, but the rules that apply to you do not seem to apply to other creatures.

Every creature in the game has a 4 integer ID (it can go higher, but not in a standard playthrough).

This makes every creature you see an individual of sorts with its own randomized values or appearance.

As well as this, creatures spawn from specific marked dens. When you kill a creature that spawns from a certain den, the next cycle, that creature’s ID will never appear again. Instead, the den spawn is replaced by a creature of the same species with a different ID, or a new species entirely.

Through gameplay, you see that the respawn rules that apply to you do not apply to other creatures. I’ve heard many points about how these dead creatures are transported to another alternate universe where they are alive, but I really do not want to delve into that theory. You do that yourself.

Excuse my unprofessional language, but this is kind of stupid. Billions and billions of little timeline splits accounting for every single insect and microbe that dies seems far too complex of a solution. Occam's Razor and all that.

With this gameplay element you see, I also want to give LORE explanations as to why this is incredibly stupid.

1) If death had no impact, the 5 natural urges would not matter

If no creatures died, there would be no point in eating (karma 4), competing with other species (karma 1), or any form of self preservation (karma 5). Reproduction (karma 2) has no role and there would be absolutely no reason to do anything any longer. All natural processes would be useless.

2) Light Blue Pearl

The information received from the cycle is most likely from the Light Blue Pearl, found in Outskirts.

“[...]The repeating mantra is important because it symbolizes the cyclical nature of life and death, and the termination verse is a symbol for ascension above and beyond it. I don't know how familiar you are with the nature of life and death, but I imagine like all living creatures you have some intuitive knowledge? Then you know that death isn't the end - birth and death are connected to each other like a ring, or some say a spiral. Some say a spiral that in turn forms a ring. Some ramble in agonizing longevity. But the basis is agreed upon: like sleep like death, you wake up again - whether you want to or not. This is true for all living things, but some actually break the cycle. That doesn't apply to you or me though, you are too entangled in your animal struggles, and for me not breaking that cycle is an integral part of the design. Our mantras keep repeating.”

“Then you know that death isn't the end - birth and death are connected to each other like a ring, or some say a spiral. Some say a spiral that in turn forms a ring.“

This line is very misunderstood. Moon specifically mentions birth and death. She mentions death. She never brings up the notion that nothing truly dies either.

As well as this, Moon says that “some say”, implying that even the ancients weren’t sure what the cycle was either. This is more important to my point regarding how the unfathomable nature of the cycle was why the Ancients were so averse to it from above, though.

------

“Sliver of Straw found the solution.”/"There is/isn't solution"

No she didn’t.

.

.

Ok fine I’ll explain.

If you’ve played Rain World you know that the purpose of the iterators is to find the solution to the “Great Problem”, the problem of how to ascend ALL living creatures.

You’ll also know Sliver sent out the Triple Affirmative…

“[...]affirmative that a solution has been found, affirmative that the solution is portable, and affirmative that a technical implementation is possible and generally applicable. She's also one of few that has ever been confirmed as exhaustively incapacitated, or dead. We do not die easily.[…]” - Pale Yellow (SL)

After sending out this affirmative, the iterators became conflicted. They never could figure out if she really ascended and had found the solution, or if it was some sort of catastrophic error.

The answer to the Great Problem is clearly intended to be as obscured as possible. There cannot be an answer one way or the other. The themes of it and the endless tolling of the iterators would not be as impactful if we knew there was or wasn’t a solution.

“[...]Either way, after that these different factions developed, as well as a huge forensic effort to recreate and simulate Sliver of Straw's last moments. Some of the simulations were wrapped in a simulation wrapped in a simulation, in case something dangerous might happen. Nothing much has come from it.[…]“ - Pale Yellow (SL)

Here’s my favorite way of explaining what I mean…

Imagine Schrodinger's Cat, the famous thought experiment. There’s a 50/50 chance that when you open the box, you either find the Solution, or find out there is No Solution.

Except you cannot open the box. And the box is entirely theoretical and nobody’s seen it. It seems impossible, but maybe one day you’ll find that box. That’s what the Great Problem is.

Sliver apparently having found the solution would have completely broken everything. Five Pebbles wouldn’t have ended up hurting himself and Moon had Sliver finding the solution been known with certainty. He was taking a shot in the dark.

------

“Ascension is akin to suicide.”

I strongly believe this point harms the role that ascension and the void sea play in Rain World’s narrative. Ascension is meant to be a final destination, a goal you build up to and prepare for when you’ve lived every bit of life you possible could, and can now move on.

Bringing up the Memory Crypt pearl from earlier, Seventeen Axes lived an incredibly fulfilling life from what we see, and ascended happily.

As well as this, Buddhism strongly encourages those who wish to liberate themselves to discover their own path, which is also subtly shown through the gameplay, as there are many many routes you can take to Five Pebbles, Looks To The Moon, and The Depths.

I do also think this is why Five Pebbles failed. He tried to brute force his way to ascension.

Suicide implies that ascension is only meant to be a fruitless escape and that it’s wrong to ascend. I… do not want to go into why suicide is bad. It’s a strong topic and I’m just here to talk about video games. But ascension is a neutral thing that you can choose to do or not do and to wait until you’re ready.

------

Conclusion...

I really only have the time to cover these 6 misconceptions, and I believe it should be enough. There have been many others I’ve seen, such as the ancients being malicious or that there weren’t any civilizations before them, but there’s not as much to say about them, and they aren’t as common.

Rain World is a very confusing game. I’m not upset at people who think these things to be true, and I do not believe they’re stupid or don’t have any media literacy. I just wish that the people who did actually cover this game did some more looking into it, and actually discussing it with Rain World fans.

Also I should say, that during this entire discussion I have avoided talking about Downpour- RW’s DLC- as it’s more of a official fanmade project. And so much of what it says may not be entirely in line with Vanilla. Because my life isn’t easy and of course there has to be an incredibly divisive and confusing thing like this that I need to avoid bringing up so that way the conversation isn’t muddled.

Thanks if you managed to make it through all this by the way

[anantaru]

hi yoru! for a thirst, can we get a wriothesley + saying the safe word? im a big fan of your alhaitham one <3 ty and ily :))

cw. saying the safe-word, a little angsty, fem! reader

through wriothesley's matchless pair of eyes, you appear to look like you had been just drugged outside topping delight— with his warm hands, two large and rough palms, setting a delicious flow with deep and precise thrusts into your sensitivity, crowding you so effortlessly well and reaching all deep in your drenched cunt.

evidently enough, you got him quite needy and riled up tonight, a yearning want that couldn't be quelled, despite the usual serene and collected man keeping his cool almost a little too well in any other circumstances that he might encounter.

while now— wriothesley certainly ruts faster inside of you and suffocates any mere possibility of breathing room from you, sighing indulgently into his chest when your hole constricts around his shaft like you're made for him as his silken hair lingers on his dampened forehead— your body squirming at the precise pumps that never failed to hit your twitching parts, even more turn your eyes criss-crossed and have your back arch like a bow, until wriothesley finished mounting you with all the pleasure and to be extraordinarily pleased, bursting with the pressure pressing into your cunt.

because wriothesley fucks you like he loves you more than anything else in his life, and he kisses you through searing lips that you simply cannot find a moment to catch your breath as he forcibly digs his fingers into the plush of your ass, ramming the head of his cock straight against the deepest parts he so possibly can reach— and in any other case, you certainly welcomed it whenever your boyfriend would be rough with you, manhandle you and practically flip you left and right across the mattress until the delicious pleasure was throbbing and vibrating all through the expanse of your soft walls.

but tonight— oh tonight, for some reason it was beginning to hurt you deeply, in a way that ached your thighs when you attempted to part them a little more, and it made it difficult to even gulp down the budding saliva in your throat when he tosses his entire weight against your trembling figure.

from the get go, you tap against his back but such was falling deaf almost immediately when he groans at the way you were clenching down, choked cries greeting him from underneath as your liquids messily drip all over his shaft, your eyes now tear stricken as you take his blows through broken moans, wriothesley's grip on you becoming stronger, harder and much more difficult to endure.

the duke looks down on you when he watches in horror the split second you sob out the safe word he was certain, he would never hear from you, ever— and by now, the wetness of your eyes had conquered his chest and stained his skin, the pain not only furious in between your thighs, but bending his heart out of shape at the boiling vision of his most loved one in obvious agony.

because of him.

"swe-sweetheart?" he pulls away immediately, his dripping cock parting from your hole with a lewd string continuously connecting the two of you as you roll over and arch your legs so you could hug your knees, your heart beating faster as did his. the duke sighs deeply into his chest before removing any pillows on the bed that might become bothersome, so you could properly breathe again at least, most importantly recover from something he had placed on you.

you wanted to, really intended to tell him that such mistakes can obviously happen and that it wasn't his fault— in truth, you were feeling embarrassed that you "couldn't take him like he wanted you to," but the second you grasped on to enough air in order to spell those wrong words out to him, wriothesley drapes one fluffy blanket over the lower side of your body while leaving your chest bare, so you would have no trouble in remaining an even breather as he tells you that it wasn't your fault.

"i'm so sorry, please.." his sweat stained skin reddens under the dim lights of the bedroom as you place your palm against his hand, "this shouldn't have happened, i am so sorry," he continues is distress, a faint outline of tears lingering across his eyes as they shine above you, "i promise, this won't happen again."

"i won't let it get to this point, ever again,"

you sniffle before messily brushing away a sliding tear from your cheek, "can you hold me?" you whisper to him, your torn pleas almost dissolving on your tongue as you utter it out to him at last, his body moving before his mind can even process your words as he snuggles you against his broad chest and makes you listen to his rapid heart beats, his chin resting against your head when he pulls the blanket over the both of you now—one large hand always soothly motioning heart shapes on your quivering hip. 

from wriothesley's judgement, your body, your soul and everything in regards of you was truly angelic and out of this world, because you were the sun that lit up his entire life and every time he would see you smile, his heart melts and so does he, get weak in the knees whenever he thinks of your beauty, and to even attempt to describe it would be an insult in its own, because it goes beyond that, truly.

and now, wriothesley was at loss of words as guilt scatters into his bones and limbs, and every time he attempted to say something, nothing came out, so instead he made it his unwavering duty to be there, at least fulfill whatever you wanted to do, as long as you can one day forgive him for this sin.

©2023 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[zombie-bait]

Full Moon

Ok so I don’t normally post about Helluva Boss but the newest episode touched on an interesting concept I haven’t necessarily seen represented in media. Back when I was on Twitter (derogatory) a few years ago there was this now deleted viral thread where someone discussed how their struggles with mental health affected their relationship with their partner and I haven’t stopped thinking about it since. 

This is such a good, short example of how anxiety and depression can play tricks on you. It becomes so easy to envision yourself as a nuisance, a constant burden to those closest to you because they cannot possibly genuinely enjoy your company, right? But in doing so you create this arbitrarily cruel version of the people you love, people who would otherwise never behave like this outside of your own mind.

It's mean. Because your mind wants to be mean to you under these circumstances. It wants to put everyone else's emotions and desires above yours, both in worthiness and validity. And that starts bleeding into your understanding of other people, especially those you care about.

Now. Helluva Boss.

"Can I get a fucking MINUTE to think after everything you put me through you pompous rich ASSHOLE? Treat me like one of your little butler imps, you can’t just dismiss me like that! I mean, you royal fucks think you can do this every time, like you can just play with our feelings because we’re smaller and not as important. Well I’m not letting you, BITCH! Let’s go!" - Blitz

I find it really interesting how Helluva Boss decided to approach this conflict between Stolas and Blitz. Obviously, the difference in power matters. It's the underlying tension of their entire relationship and their lives. Stolas is burdened by the mountain of expectations thrust upon him from a very young age while Blitz is constantly reminded that he can NEVER be part of that world, that he is "smaller and not as important" not just in Hell's hierarchy but in his own life and family. Stolas very literally has power over Blitz (through the grimoire, the arrangement, his position in society) and Blitz uses their relationship as an excuse to reverse those roles. But that power dynamic, in one form or another, never truly goes away. And for Blitz, it's a lot easier to paint Stolas as this manipulative symbol of power and himself as nothing more than Stolas' plaything. It's easier to be angry than to be vulnerable and accept that someone might care about him.

"Dismiss" is the keyword in that quote. All that Blitz has been able to process is that Stolas has decided to end the relationship that they have. He feels ls like a choice has been taken away from him so he lashes out because he's not ready to emotionally tackle what the rest of Stolas' offer might entail. If Stolas hates him, just wants to play with him, then he is justified in his anger, his self-destruction, his isolation. If the world is mean, you're "allowed" to be mean back.

But

In that moment he forgets that Stolas is someone he actually cares about. Someone he's known for way too long and clearly wants to keep in his life, no matter how reluctant he can be to admit it. Someone who is not innately cruel or manipulative but sad and desperate for connections in a lot of the same ways that Blitz is. And Blitz immediately sees that he's miscalculated something.

Somewhere along the way the fictional version of Stolas that he's allowed himself to be mad at and the real one that he's not ready to admit he cares about have merged into something real that he has actual power over. Stolas can get hurt and Blitz can be the one who does it. He has once again allowed his greatest fears (which Stolas so frequently symbolizes) to co-opt his loved ones, to give him an "out" even though he didn't actually want one in the first place.

I'm definitely not the first person to say this but I think this is an example of the miscommunication trope done right. Their individual struggles are what cause them to be unable to connect during this conversation or to even have a proper conversation in the first place. There is no convenient misunderstanding or third party fabricating this rift. Both of them have preconceived ideas of what the other one is thinking but those ideas are flawed and rooted in self-hatred. They also both shutdown in their unique ways when the conversation starts heading in the direction they'd feared it would.

Blitz and Stolas work because they're both fucked up in similar ways, because they want similar things. That's the same reason why they're uniquely designed to hurt one another. A fear of rejection and a yearning for happiness. To borrow a quote that has been used by literally everyone from Spiderman to Evangelical preachers, "hurt people hurt people."

anyway, I really liked this episode.

(twitter thread screenshots sourced from this reddit post)

[transmascutena]

some thoughts on photography and memory in utena:

on the wall in nemuro memorial hall, there are pictures of real people. i'm not sure who they are, but i assume they're of people involved in making the show. either way, they're obviously not real; in the close-up shots of them, they change into pictures of the black rose duelists and other imagery from the show. i imagine it's there as a fun detail by the creators, but also to show how weird and inconsistent reality itself is in the black rose arc.

as for the black rose duel images themselves, it's possible that they are literal as i've talked about in a previous post, but what i think is more likely, is that utena noticing them is a visual representation of her connecting the dots of what's really been going on in this arc.

when mikage brings up the idea of memories and eternity, we see the picture on the wall behind utena, of her at her parents funeral. and behind mikage we see one of his own defining memories.

a pretty clear line is being drawn between memory and photographs. in fact, memories are so important to mikage that photographs are his black rose duel symbol. it's the one he keeps of mamiya and tokiko, altered to look like anthy's disguise, just like his memories are. through mikage we see both how memories of the past can keep you trapped in it, as well as the malleability of these memories. let's look at everybody else:

saionji has a framed photograph of him and touga as kids on his desk. he values their friendship, or at least the memory of how it used to be. he idealizes the time touga was less cruel (or maybe just the time saionji wasn't aware of his cruelty.)

miki doesn't have any literal photographs of kozue or the sunlit garden, though his memories of them are often framed as such. he also keeps a picture of anthy amidst his sheet music. she is his idealized memory now.

juri has the locket of course, inside of which is a cutout of shiori from a picture captured in the moment that ends up defining their entire relationship. is this the version of shiori that juri idealizes? not really, but she is fixated on her resentment of shiori's percieved cruelty, just not the cruelty of taking the boy away. juri keeps this photograph closer than anybody else does with theirs, but she also keeps it hidden. this could mean she treasures her memories the most out of everyone, and is also the least open about it, although i'm not sure i believe the first part.

nanami has the photo-album of her and touga; she idealizes her relationship with him, as well as their childhood. when she makes the connection that touga is adopted, the photos are scattered all over her bed, probably to represent her emotional state.

touga doesn't keep any photographs from what we see, which makes sense with everything we know about him. unlike the rest of the council, he doesn't have any idealized memories of his childhood. but he does use akio's camera, so let's talk about that.

the camera is, much like the car, a tool that only akio is shown to own (although, wakaba does mention a photography club in episode 34.) like the car, it is used to facilitate his grooming (specifically of touga and saionji when he takes those shirtless pictures with them.) and, also like the car, he offers to lend it to touga, to make him feel more like an equal part of the whole thing. unlike the car though, touga accepts the camera.

the photoshoot scene in episode 37 has a transition where the camera shutter sound effect is played over the previous scene. over the shot of utena and anthy holding hands after confiding in each other about akio. i think it's to show that he's always watching, and that they can never truly be free of him as long as they're in ohtori.

i think it also shows the idea of akio framing the narrative of the show as a whole. he plays a sort of director role in it, in that he directs the events happening, as well as how they're portrayed. it's no coincidence that he is quite literally behind the "camera" in episode 33. like the car, a symbol of akio's power and sexual abuse (which is not-coincidentally also present in all of the photoshoot scenes,) his camera (his narrative, his biased framing of events) is ever-present.

and then there's the most important photograph in the show, the frame it all ends on. the picture utena and anthy took together is, unlike every other photograph, used as a look into their future. the reason they take it in the first place is because utena realizes she has no photos of anthy, which distresses her, presumably because she worries that their friendship might not last forever, and she wants something to remember anthy by. this obviously comes with the risk of making anthy an idealized memory, like every other person put in a photograph in this show, but instead it ends up as a symbol for their love. akio may have set up the camera, but anthy (with the help of chu-chu) manipulated their positions so her and utena could hold hands. she also cuts akio out of the frame, much like she cuts him out of her life in the last episode. she doesn't want his presence to tarnish her and utena's memory anymore (although he isn't completely gone from the photograph either, as he will never truly be forgotten.)

[depravitycentral]

Daichi Sawamura Yandere NSFW Profile

Yandere! Daichi Sawamura x fem! reader

TW: dub/noncon, kidnapping, masturbation, voyeurism, groping, cum eating (literally and in a kinky way), Daichi is icky and you should never eat any food he provides for you, roleplaying, begging, breeding, Daddy kink, mentions of pregnancy, brief mentions of lactation kink, mild undertones of misogyny, obviously this is post-timeskip Daichi, fem reader, MDNI

I do not condone any of the actions described in this post - this is fiction and should be treated as such. If you or a loved one is in a similar situation to anything contained in this post or my blog in general, please seek help. You're in charge of your internet consumption; please make responsible choices. With that, enjoy!

WC: 10.0K

HABITS:

Before you walked into Daichi’s life, he wasn’t an avid fan of touching himself. He had no problems with sex – it was normal, natural, and he was most certainly no stranger to the incessant pull of hormones, to the intensity of late night bouts of horniness.

And yet, he’d never really been one to get himself off obsessively, to wrap his fingers around his aching cock and jerk away until a stuttered grunt and sharp exhale of breath tumble past his lips as ropes of white splatter against his chest every night.

Sure, he had stress from his everyday life; stress from his job, his friends, his parents, everything – and he’ll admit that his hand, some lube, and a rather explicit video certainly helped make the stress go away, if only for a bit. He wasn’t necessarily unpopular with women before meeting you, but he’d never really held much of an admiration towards any particular girl for any longer than a week or two, anything deeper than a fleeting attraction that eventually died down and turned to something more platonic.

His feelings are guarded, and it most certainly did not feel right to be fucking his fist to the thought of some girl who he’d never spoken more than fifty words to. Past girlfriends have helped curb his libido a bit, offering him a better alternative than his hand, but Daichi has never felt that enthralled by touching himself and others.

However, once you step into his world, suddenly Daichi’s entire outlook on sex and masturbation changes drastically. He prides himself on being a man of restraint, of respecting the boundaries of others, but where you’re concerned?

Well, is it respectful of him to be daydreaming about bouncing you up and down on his cock, hearing you cry out his name and watching your pretty tits bounce along with you?

Is it disrespectful to think of the way your ass would jiggle as he spanks you, how your voice would sound so airy and breathless when you call out five – oh! Five, Daddy!

Is it crude of him to imagine the way you’d choke and gag as you pull off of his cock, a string of saliva connected to your puffy lips to his swollen tip, cum smeared all along your cheeks as you beg him to let you give him just one more, wanna make you feel good one more time, please!

He’s normally not especially sexually driven, but it’s almost like a switch gets flipped once Daichi realizes how fucking in love he is with you – mind, soul and, of course, body.Lonely nights spent thinking of you and your perfect figure that Daichi desperately wants to touch become more and more frequent, more and more urgent because when he’s laying underneath his covers, his body growing hot as he thinks about what could be hiding under your clothes, how can he not vividly begin imagining the gentle curve of your ass, the plush of your thighs and the wonderful, sweet treat laying between them?

How can he not fantasize about tasting your slick, dipping his tongue between your folds and feeling your fingers tug at his hair while your pretty whines fill his ears?

Because of his stance on getting busy with himself being a time for imagination of someone, Daichi is actually quite touch starved, and once he has his hand wrapped around his achingly hard cock with you in mind for the first time, he starts to question why he didn’t start doing this much sooner.

When it comes to touching himself, he has a pretty set in stone method for how to best get himself off, for how to make the experience the best that he can.

(Everything he can do to himself is subpar in comparison to you, though – just the thought of what your soft fingers could do, your warm mouth, your soaking pussy, your bouncy tits, your pert little asshole is enough to get him groaning and wishing you were with him.)

Daichi has a pattern established on how he touches himself, and he rarely strays from it. It works very well, and it allows his mind to run wild with fantasies of you. Daichi is a dom through and through, and every fantasy he harbors between the two of you (and there are many to choose from) involves him in the more dominant position - him above you, thrusting into you as deeply and sensually as he can, whispering in your ear how good you are for taking his cock so well.

Him sitting up in bed, your legs straddled around him and your fingers splayed over his chest while he moves you up and down, growling out your name and sucking hickies into your neck, occasionally coming up to smack and grab at your ass. He’ll even grab you firmly and thrust up into you from time to time, the abrupt change of pace and force making you cry out and collapse forward, pressing your chest into his face while he sucks at a nipple and growls under his breath.

His obsession with caring and watching over you that plagues his everyday interactions with you translates into the bedroom too - every sexual urge and desire he has about you is really about taking care of you and your needs. He’s the ultimate pleaser, in all honesty, though he does his fair share of teasing at times.

 Of course though, he has a few selfish fantasies (namely, he’d love for you to give him head, to be on your knees, sucking and drooling all over his cock while he runs his fingers through your hair, grunting out praise for you and thrusting into that tight throat of yours) that he indulges in once in a while, but generally when he’s alone with just his fist as a poor stand in for your warm, tight, dripping cunt, he focuses on mainly the idea of pleasing and fucking you.

And while he doesn’t ever want to admit it, Daichi has a bit of a dirty secret when it comes to how he masturbates – he’s very much the standard fist fucker, jerking himself off until he’s nearly numb, until he’s panting and his cock is left bright red and swollen, aching for more but too sensitive to endure anything else.

He doesn’t do anything too risqué when he’s jerking his wrist up and down, flicking it slightly as he nears the tip and occasionally letting his thumb glide over his slit, making his hips jerk. He’s not too crazy in that regard, but the small glass jar he pulls out from under his bed and sets on his bedside table is anything but normal. Its half filled with white, sticky semi-liquid, a light film covering the entirety of the jar, looking sinister and kept safe and out of harm’s way so as not to spill a single drop.

When he’s in the mood, his cock already flushed and desperate for contact (which is after nearly every interaction with you, no matter how small or innocent), he’ll just gulp and bite his lip, retreating away to his bedroom with excitement building in his gut. He’ll start by locking the door and dimming the lights, before heading over to his bed and stripping down to nothing.

He’ll twist the lid of the jar off, the potent smell enveloping his senses and leaving him to wonder how you’d react to the aroma, whether you’d be flustered and shyly look away, or whether you’d grab the jar and bring it up to your nose, deeply inhaling and letting your eyes roll to the back of your head, moaning something about how he smells so good, how you want to taste him, how you need him.

Setting the jar back on the table, he’ll sit on his mattress so that he’s leaning back on his knees, his entire chest upright and exposed as his cock slaps up against the skin of his lower stomach, red and drooling precum and absolutely begging for attention.

He’ll run a hand along his chest, scratching lightly at the hard muscles and reaching down to his dark pubic hair, a low groan escaping his throat as he closes his eyes and imagines it’s your wandering hands, so much smaller and softer than his own.

He’ll imagine you laying down before him, spread out and looking so welcoming and ravishing, your hair all wild and your eyes wide with desire, lips already swollen from kissing and dark marks sucked into your neck claiming you as his his his. His cock bobs at just the thought, a thick glob of precum oozing from the tip.

He’ll start slowly, ghosting a hand over his raging erection, feeling how he twitches slightly at the airy contact. He runs his fingertips over the prominent vein on his left side, feeling the way it stands out against the smooth skin of his length, the touch making his toes curl and his thighs twitch.

Sometimes he’ll imagine your soft, perfect lips wrapped around his length, sucking and swirling your tongue around his sensitive head while his fingers are buried in your hair.

Other times, he’ll imagine you under him, looking up at him with those wonderful eyes clouded in lust and ecstasy as he absolutely destroys that precious little pussy of yours, pounding into you so hard that you’re fisting the sheets and crying out for dear life because fuck he’s hitting so deep, and you’re going to come much too soon.

The only sound filling the room while his fist works at his length is the dull thump of his pelvis, along with ragged breathes and little growls of your name and fuck yes, good girl, god just like that, fuck baby how’re you so damn tight mixed with incoherent little gasps of mine as he nears his high.

His pace starts to speed up too as he gets closer and closer to his release, grunts escaping him while he chants your name under his breath, until eventually his hips are bucking over and over into the air, desperate to be thrusting as deeply inside you as possible, and his orgasm tears through him with a low, throaty grunt.

Quickly he’s scrambling to grab onto the jar, knocking things over in his haste as he groans loudly, chanting your name and going on about how you’re so good, so fucking good, fuck wanna – wanna fuck you so bad – take it take it take it – !

His eyes squeeze shut as thick ropes of cum shoot from his red, engorged tip and directly into the open jar, the spurts blending in with the other older, thicker loads stored in the container, and he’ll lowly growl your name, imagining praising you for taking his cock so well and how you’re such a good girl for taking every last drop of his cum while he empties his balls inside the container, keeping his hand lightly pumping to make sure he gets every last drop out. He’ll even grip the base and shake himself a bit to make sure everything he has to offer comes out, drooling from the swollen slit and dripping in big fat drops into the jar.

It takes him a few minutes to recover, and once he does, he’ll smile crookedly down at the glass, bringing it up to nis nose to lightly sniff, the image of your face when you bite into the little snacks he makes you flashing through his mind.

You’re so cute when you’re munching on the little mini bite sized sandwiches he brings you every week during your lunch break, your adorably clueless self never wondering why there seems to be so much mayonnaise, why there’s always a slightly bitter, salty undertaste.

But Daichi doesn’t mind – it’s worth it to see you lick your fingers clean, his mouth going dry at the thought of you licking his cock clean in the same manner, and as he shuts the jar lid and carefully places it back under his bed, knowing he’ll likely have it filled the other half way by the weekend with the sheer amount of cum he produces and the frequency with which he collects it.

And as he leans back against his pillows, he’ll be more lonely than ever, because all he wants in that moment is your warm, beautiful body to be there with him, cuddling into his naked chest and telling him how much you love him.

All he wants is your soft, sticky body clutching onto his, your face nuzzling into his chest and the mixture of his cum and your slick dripping down your thighs and onto him to lull him to sleep. You’re so perfect, and as Daichi slips into a land of dreams filled with your face, he can only hope the day soon comes when his imagination becomes reality.

FAVORITE BODY PART:

Your thighs

He can’t quite explain it, but there’s just something about the expanse of your thighs that gets him gulping, having to adjust both the collar of his shirt and the waistband of his trousers. Size is completely irrelevant to him; you could have the leanest thighs with hardly any fat, the most muscular legs he’s ever seen, or a lovely plush to them that jiggles with your every move, and he’d still be completely, whole-heartedly in love.

There’s just something about the smooth expanses of skin that really get Daichi hot under the collar - maybe it’s the fact that they look so soft and squishy, like he could just reach out and grab a handful, get you flustered and squeaking in surprise as he massages the soft flesh under his palm.

Maybe it’s the way they splay out when you sit down, looking perfect, so fucking tempting, like they could suffocate him so easily and fuck, now he’s hard and staring at your thighs from across the room and god, where’s the nearest bathroom with fairly soundproof walls?

Or maybe it’s because he just knows that there’s a wonderful, sweet surprise waiting in the middle of them, ready for him to love and touch and taste and god, he’s never wanted to fuck something so bad, never wanted to shove his cock into something so much, to fill to fucking brim with his cum and make a completely fucking mess of something as badly as he does your luscious fucking thighs –

Regardless, he’s completely in love with the supple flesh; he wants nothing more than to run his hands up and down them, take a handful and squeeze, nibble until a nice, possessive hickey taints the delicate skin. He wants to touch you so badly, to get the opportunity to love and worship every inch of the supple flesh, to show you just how beautiful you are, how much he loves and appreciates your body.

Each time the thought of them flashes through his mind (something that happens very frequently), he’s practically drooling, his mouth watering and saliva pooling up in his cheeks at just the thought of getting to touch them, of getting to knead your soft skin and hear the way you sigh out in pleasure, of sucking dark hickeys into the delicate skin of your inner thighs, of getting to push them together and fuck the space between them.

It’s honestly pretty bad how quickly and easily your thighs can arouse him - when he sees you wearing anything shorter than full length pants, he has to will his eyes away for fear that he’ll grow hard right then and there, his face flushing red and his throat growing dry.

It’s all too easy to imagine those thighs hooked up over his shoulders, bending your body in half while he pounds into you again and again and again until you’re incoherently crying out, fingernails scratching down his back while he hisses and grunts and pounds into you deeply enough to imprint the shape of his cock onto every part of you.

And once he’s stolen you away, Daichi’s obsession really begins to show – constantly touching you, always groping you and resting a hand against them (preferably between them when you cuddle or watch TV, because the heat alone is enough to have his eyes fluttering closed, a sharp inhale sounding while he shifts around below you) always eyeing them from the corner of his gaze, always forcing you to throw a leg over him when he’s cuddling you in the much too large bed Daichi bought for the two of you.

(He’d purposefully bought such a large size, if only because he wants to have all the room in the world to spread you out as he sees fit, to get you open and exposed and vulnerable to his probing stare, his wandering fingers, his eager mouth.)

If he could, he’d have a hand on your thigh at all times of the day, regardless of who you’re with, where you are and what you’re doing - he just can’t control himself.

His chest

While he isn’t overly buff, he’s put in his fair share of physical care and generally keeps himself in pretty good shape not only for his job, but for his own health as well.

He most definitely has muscle, and his upper body is actually quite defined – pectorals that physically stand out, a pair of pebbled, sensitive nipples, planes of light abs that flex and harden under your curious fingertips. He works hard during required workout sessions for the force, and although he isn’t the most purely athletic on the force, he does regularly visit the gym and lift.

And once you walk into his life, suddenly Daichi has someone to impress, someone to imagine gushing over his muscles and trailing their fingers over him in awe. And really, you’re by far the best motivation he could ever ask for; he wants you to be impressed, to be in awe at his body and the muscles lining his form, if only to prove that he can provide for you, that he can protect you and take care of you like he should, like you deserve.

And that’s what running through his mind as he pushes the bench press above his head, as he grits his teeth and pushes himself just a bit further, just a bit harder, because imagining the look of awe and attraction in your eyes the first time he’s shirtless around you is enough to have him eagerly upping his regiments, wanting to resemble to cover models for the men’s activewear magazines he sees around.

He has a lot of fantasies that involve his chest where you’re concerned – he wants you pressed up against him, your warm, soft and supple body flush against the hard lines of muscle.

He wants to feel your breasts pushed up against him, feel your hard nipples against his own, the swell of them against him as he pulls you closer, kisses you, hands grabbing fistfuls of your ass while he groans into your mouth.

He wants to hover above you and absolutely destroy that cute little pussy of yours, to leave you sobbing and writhing around below him in pleasure with your hands firmly pushing against his chest, arms too weak to even remotely put up a fight as he just keeps going, as his cock drives into you again and again and again.

The ideas make his head spin, his throat feel dry with want and his fingers idly clenching into fists, the desperation to have your admiration and awe pointed at him so potent that it’s nearly painful.

And once you’re trapped in his home, Daichi tries to speed up the inevitable by simply forgoing any type of shirt in the presence of you – his muscles are on display, abs tightening and flexing when he reaches up to get something off the top shelf, clenching his core tightly when he forces you to sit on his lap while he feeds you dinner.

Having a strong, masculine chest only furthers his idea of him being your strong, brave protector in his mind, and you being his sweet little darling, the one who is so delicate and in such desperate need of saving.

Daichi is proud of his physique, and while he tries not to let it show, the first time he’s half naked around you the desperation to get your approval is practically palpable – so really, just run your hand from nipple to nipple, trace the hard lines of his abs, the deep v right above the hem of his pants, and whisper a sultry voice, you’re so handsome, Daddy, and Daichi will nearly come right then and there.

He just wants your approval, so badly that it nearly suffocates him.

 

DRIVE:

Before meeting you, his sex drive was low – occasionally getting himself off, though often finding himself too busy to really indulge in even a quick session with his wrist tugging and jerking on him while he grunts and groans.

It just wasn’t important to him, something that he didn’t have the time, energy or interest in investing in. He didn’t have anyone to think of or imagine, and while there were plenty of pretty women he got along with, he could never manage to form developed enough feelings to get to the stage of wanting to be with most of them in that way, of wanting to see them naked and touch them.

 However, this does a complete 180 when his obsession with you forms - suddenly he’s wrapped up with all of these lewd ideas of you, all of these fantasies that make his face turn red and his entire body feel like it’s on fire.

Frequent wet dreams that leave him washing his sheets three or four times a week have him focusing on hazy imagery of you reaching down to spread the lips of your cunt for him, letting him see the shining wetness inside, the clenching hole he so desperately wants to fuck, the slick he wants to lap up every drop of.

Ideas of you on your knees, looking up at him through teary eyelashes while you gag and choke against his cock have him groaning and steadying himself against the wall, his knees quite literally going weak at the mere thought of you.

He’s horny for you at all times, and nothing can sate his desire for you and your body until you’re there in front of him, naked and getting your brains fucked out by your beloved. Getting himself off makes it more manageable, but he isn’t truly happy until his thick, aching cock is buried as deeply inside you as possible, where it truly belongs.

He wants to fuck you all the time, and with every innocent expression you give him when he’s with you and every time he sees that fucking skirt you love ride up just a tad, it gets harder and harder to deny himself of his urges.

With every little sound you make as you work on your work assignments, as you stand stirring something over the stove or settle into bed, the urge to pin you down and claim you as utterly and completely his (via stuffing you full of his cum and leaving so many hickeys on your neck that you’ll look like you were attacked by a wild animal, of course) becomes more intense. It becomes more difficult to hold back as his fingers dig into his palm, his eyes squeezed shut in concentration as he tries not to think about the way you’d sound begging for his cock, how you’d plea and cry out for him to fill me up, please please Daddy! I’ve been so good, want your cock, wanna be fucked stupid, please!

Daichi is a bit of a demon in waiting, and once you’re in his grasp, he’s throwing the idea of holding himself back out the window, because fuck it all if you don’t look like the sexiest thing he’s ever seen all dolled up in his t-shirt and the lacy pair of crotchless panties he’d forced you into that morning.

You’re gorgeous, and because of you his libido spikes to the point of him feeling overwhelmed by every little thing you do – but surely, you must want him just as badly as he needs you, right?

However, Daichi will not force anything sexual on you. He wants it to be consensual, for the both of you to enjoy it, and he can’t enjoy himself if you’re in tears and begging him to stop.

(Unless you’re begging because he’s made you come so many times that you can’t even think, something that crosses his mind often late at night, when there’s a flush high on his cheeks, his fist moving so quickly that he can’t hope to stop himself, not when the orgasm he’s so desperate for – that he pretends you’re desperate for - is so fucking close -)

His morals where you’re concerned are fairly skewed, but even Daichi, in his state of absolute obsession with you, knows that sex absolutely needs to be consensual, regardless of the fact that he could die happy if you’d just move those panties to the side and give him five minutes to do whatever he desires, five minutes of pure, unadulterated pleasure that could give him enough material in the spank bank for the rest of his lifetime.

So, he steals himself and tries to ignore it the best he can, but sometimes it gets to be too much, the yearning and desire at such a level that Daichi is helpless in the face of how his cock throbs, aching and practically begging him to get release, to bury himself as deeply inside your tight little pussy as he possibly can.

And anything can trigger this intense reaction, really – seeing you bite your lip while you contemplate whether it’s worth cuddling with him to get the warmth that the blanket he’s using has to give you is enough to have Daichi groaning, a rather noticeable bulge in the blanket right over his crotch making the decision for you.

When you idly hum a tune to a song you love, immediately Daichi’s wondering whether you’d like him to fuck you to that song, to let your cries and moans blend in with the singer’s voice, his own groans and grunts matching the bass perfectly.

He really doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable, but the pure lust you inspire within him, the desperate desire that your mere presence ignites in his heart isn’t always easy to ignore - he gets desperate, his body telling him to drop everything and come, and sometimes he can’t even make it to the bathroom.

Which leads to him jerking it right in front of you, his trousers zipped down to expose the thick, tan length as his hand mercilessly pumps up and down, up and down, again and again. It obviously makes you uncomfortable (because it always, always happens when you’re in the same room, when you were just doing something that gave him such intense mental imagery that he just couldn’t hold back the lust), but Daichi can’t bring himself to care.

He’ll shamelessly be grunting your name, not scared to praise fantasy-you while you stand a few feet away from him and watch with wide eyes as he steadily yanks at his intimidatingly thick member. 

His eyes go from squeezing shut tightly and peeling open to stare you directly in the eye as he groans out fuuuck, shit baby so fucking tight – hngh, gonna – gonna make you come for Daddy, fuck, his fist squeezing his cock in an effort to mimic the way your own walls would milk him dry.

He comes faster knowing you’re watching, knowing that the presence he so desperately longs for is right next to him, that your soft skin and pretty lips are right fucking there, perfectly visible for his eyes and imagination to run wild.

He’ll grip himself tighter and tighter, telling you that you’re so damn tight baby, oh f-fuck, clenchin’ me too damn much while his head falls back, his eyes squeezed shut and his brows furrowed as the pleasure mounts and mounts and grows, everything feeling hot and heavy and ready to absolutely burst –

His cum is suddenly landing in long, thin white stripes across his chest as he heaves, his eyes fluttering open to stare at you as the last few spurts land against his tan skin, his fingers – trembling ever so slightly – give himself a few good shakes, just to make sure he gets absolutely everything out. And all the while he’ll just grin, the sight almost boyish as a breathless chuckle tumbles past his lips.  

He wishes that could’ve been inside of you, that he could’ve stuffed your sweet little pussy full of his cum until you were begging for more, but he notices the way your thighs clench together, how your face is flushed from embarrassment but also arousal, and it makes him fucking smug.

He knows it’s only a matter of time until you cave and beg him to touch you, and Daichi can’t wait for that day. You better know what you’re getting yourself into because once he’s done with you your throat will be raw from screaming and you won’t be able to walk for a few days.

MAIN THREE KINKS:

Praise 

During sex, Daichi is quite vocal – there’s a lot of noises, mostly grunts and groans, along with the occasional growl.

He’s cursing under his breath when you tighten up, the sensation of your walls clenching down at his length making his breath come out in harsh pants. when you let out a particularly sexy moan that goes directly to his cock, he’s gasping sharply and muttering your name, his words slurred slightly as he tries to veer himself away from his impeding orgasm.

He’s incoherent as he tips over the edge, ropes of cum staining your tummy, pussy, tits, face, anything and everything – his words don’t make sense (tangled moans of so good and ‘m coming and take it please please please -).

It’s never quiet in the bedroom with him between his words and the sounds of his balls clapping against your ass and chin, the lewd squelching noises ringing in his ears while he fucks you hard enough to see stars.

There’s all kinds of noise, and there’s almost always a constant stream of commentary coming from him as well. He can’t help himself; the sight of you below him, writhing in pleasure as he thrusts into you and rubs quick, tight circles along your clit is just too much for him to not say anything about.

You’re just so fucking cute when he’s got you split open on his cock, your breasts bouncing in every direction as his hips snap into yours so harshly you’re sure you’ll break, that he’ll tear you in two.

He is quite the dirty talker, and while most of it is short and possessive mutters of mine, Daichi isn’t afraid to express just what you’re making him feel. He’s grunting out that you’re mine, babygirl, this pussy fucking belongs to me as he sinks in inch by inch, slowly filling you and making your eyes squeeze shut as he just keeps going, his length never seeming to end even as his tip nudges against parts of you that you didn’t know existed.

He’s burying his face into your neck as he bends your knees against your heaving chest, the angle letting him hit deeper and harder, your walls milking him for every last drop of cum as he groans lowly that he’s gonna make you come, wanna make you squirt, fuck want you to make a mess for me, let go baby.

He’s running his hand through your hair and tilting his head back with closed eyes as his hips jerk up lightly, thrusting without his control as he nearly whines out about how that’s it, oh fuck baby, look so pretty sucking my cock, like you were made to choke on me ngh –  

It really gets him off to see you respond to his words; when you clench around him as he’s telling you how good you’re being for him, how you’re such a good girl for Daddy, it only makes him want to go harder, deeper and faster until you’re spasming around his cock and milking him for absolutely everything he’s worth.

When he tells you that he’s so proud of you while you drool and gag all over his cock, Daichi loves to see your eyes light up, the way your thighs rub together as you move to suckle at his balls, your hand taking over and spreading his precum mixed with your saliva all over his twitching length.

When you make that fucking adorable little gasp as he tells you how he’ll never get pussy this good from anyone else, his heart melts and his desire to see you come undone because of him skyrockets.

He’ll call you his baby girl, tell you how good that pretty little mouth feels wrapped around his cock, or how tight your precious cunt feels around him as he ruts into you.

He’ll rant and rave about how good it feels when you come on his cock, your walls spasming and massaging at his length, triggering his own orgasm that fills you up with white until it’s leaking down the sides, spilling out of your messy little hole because it’s all just too much.

It’s always positive praise; he’s not a fan of degrading you, if only because he genuinely views you as perfection, as someone who deserves to be loved and cared for, not ridiculed and humiliated. It’s designed to subtly show how dominant he is (as if the bruising pace of his hips and the sheer power behind his fingers gripping onto your waist weren’t enough) and to show you how much he’s enjoying whatever it is that he’s doing to you.

Sex with him is never quiet; between your moans and his grunts and hissed words, and of course the slapping of skin against skin and the squelching of his cock stirring up your insides, the bedroom (or kitchen, or shower, or wherever else the two of you find yourself getting down and dirty) will be filled with the passionate sounds of your lovemaking.

And of course, the unmistakable sound of Daichi cursing and calling you his good little girl, his little angel.

Daddy kink

Daichi is dominant in bed. There’s very little chance of you ever convincing him to let you take control between the sheets, and while he may briefly entertain the notion as he lets you push him onto his back and climb on top of him, your moment of power won’t last long.

Soon, he’ll have his hands on your hips, a small smile on his flushed face as he guides your pelvis to grind against his own, dirty words falling from his lips as he commands you to touch your clit for me, wanna see you all gooey and wet for me.

In the bedroom he wants full control, to be the one calling the shots and deciding what goes on, how you get off and whether or not you’re being a good enough little girl to even get touched.

He wants to be the one deciding whether you come from his fingers or tongue – he’ll murmur into the skin of your thighs as he plants kisses leading from your knee to your folds that you’d better behave, wanna see you come on my cock tonight, not my tongue.

He wants to be one to control how many times you orgasm in a single night – he’s warning you that he wants at least four babygirl, and I want them loud; tell me you’re feeling good, and Daddy will keep letting you get there, okay?

It stems from his compulsive, obsessive need to protect you and care for you. He sees himself as your protector, your caregiver, and in order to fully care for you, he needs to make sure you’re getting what you need from sex. He honestly feels like he knows what’s best for you, that his decisions are really the correct ones, even if you don’t see the truth in them now.

He knows that the solution to your homesickness is to fuck you stupid on his cock. He knows that when you’re getting mouthy with him, shoving his girth into your throat until you’re gagging and tears prick the corner of your eyes is the only way you’ll learn some respect. He knows that when you’ve had a long day alone while he works on the force, you need a reminder of how much you mean to him, and what better way to show that than spend hours between your legs, your slick smeared from his chin to his cheeks?

He genuinely believes that he has your best interest at heart every moment, and when you’re such a crying, babbling mess as he impales you on his cock over and over, obviously you can’t make any decisions, let alone speak a coherent sentence, so it must be his responsibility then. You’re just too cockdrunk to know what you really need – so Daichi knows for you.

As a result, there is absolutely no chance that you’ll ever dominate him, no matter how badly you want to - he takes care of you outside and inside the bedroom, and he isn’t relinquishing control no matter how hard you beg.

Even if you get down on your knees and grasp at his pantleg, pleading with him to please let me peg you, please? I’ve been such a good girl lately, I’ll do anything you want if you’ll just let me!, he’s still not budging, just sighing and telling you to quite being such a brat.

Even if you perch yourself naked on his thigh, desperately rubbing your cunt against the knee of his pants, smearing your pretty slick all over the material, Daichi won’t let you tie him up and use him how you please, even though he’s hard as hell. He’s fairly lenient on a lot of other aspects of your captivity with him, but the second you ask if you can top him, if you can call the shots, Daichi can’t help but laugh because do you really think you could do it by yourself?

Do you really think you have the ability to control a man as strong and large as him? Don’t make him laugh.

He wants to showcase his dominance over you in every single way he possibly can when you’re both naked and sweating, and though he does a lot of this through raw physical maneuvering (grasping your hips and controlling the pace when you ride him, pushing your knees up to your ears when he folds you into a mating press, leaning forward so that his entire chest is flush with your back as he ruts into you from behind like a dog in heat) it doesn’t just stop there; you are required to call him Daddy in bed, regardless of whether you want to or not.

Something about the power that comes with it goes to his head; the complete and utter trust that you have in him in order to give yourself over to him like that, to hear you refer to him as such a power figure.

It makes him dizzy with pride, arousal and adoration, and he’s honestly in heaven each and every time you gasp out the name. When he slurps against your folds, tongue eagerly working at your clit, his eyes roll to the back of his skull when you grasp at the pillow under your head and whine out a Daddy, mm, oh just like that, please don’t stop!

When you moan it out while he sends a sharp slap to your ass as he pounds into you from behind, his thrusts only get harder, more aggressive, surely strong enough that you’ll have two large bruises on your ass the next day from where his hips smacked against your skin over and over.

Every time you whimper it as he doesn’t stop his ministrations against your engorged clit even after you’ve reached your high and told him you’re too sensitive, that you can’t Daddy, oh please it’s too much, he just growls and keeps going, the power going to his head because he knows you need one fucking more.

He loves the nickname so much, in fact, that he’ll start requesting you to refer to him as that outside of the bedroom as well – when you’re tired, he’ll only let you go to sleep if you ask him in a sweet voice whether he’ll tuck me in, please Daddy? You do it just how I like it.

To him this is, of course, code for you asking him to fuck the absolute shit out of you without actually having to say it, and most of the time it works – Daichi’s libido is extremely high when it comes to you.

But on the nights where he won’t give in until you swallow your pride and push your arms together in your front, squeezing your breasts together so that the outline of your nipples show while you whisper out a please Daddy, can’t sleep without your cum in my tummy, his pupils dilate and he gulps, quickly ushering you off the bedroom when you know you’ll spend the next two hours with your face buried into the mattress and your ass high in the air while he gropes your tits and fucks you like a man possessed.

He wants to give you the love and pleasure that you deserve, so just let your Daddy take care of you.

Roleplaying

While Daichi could never, ever get bored of fucking you, he likes to mix things up in the bedroom occasionally. His hard and fast rule of always being the one in charge never changes much, but he’s a proponent of roleplaying when the both of you are getting intimate.

Perhaps it’s the product of years of relatively secretly watching porn, or perhaps it’s all those horrible ‘sexy’ costumes he’s seen during Halloween. He’s not sure, but regardless, he’s very, very interested in playing out some common sexual tropes with you.

Of course, he’s more than willing to play the police officer that catches you in the midst of a very minor crime – a speeding ticket, where you’ve got to do him a favor to get out of the cost.

(Generally, a very, very messy, drooly blowjob does the trick; he wants spit dribbling down your chin and down his length, his balls coated in a sheen of it while you gag and choke, his groans of I suppose I can let you go this once making relief sink to your guts.)

His favorite cop fantasy is finding you committing public indecency – you’ll make up some cover story of how you lost your shirt and bra at a friend’s house and now you’re in the middle of the park, the world subject to seeing your pretty tits and tummy. Daichi will pretend to scold you, chiding you for being so reckless, but it’s hard to take him seriously when those brown eyes are staring at your chest the whole time, fixating on how they jiggle with every step you take, just practically begging to be touched and groped.

(He’ll tell you that he has to take you back to the station – the bedroom – and teach you some common decency; ironic, considering more clothes come off than on when this happens, but your face will be buried in the pillows as he pounds against your ass so hard you’re seeing stars and tearing up, so you can’t focus on that too much.)

He enjoys other roleplay dynamics as well; anything with a clear power imbalance.

He’ll be the CEO of an important company and you his sweet little assistant, delivering paperwork and reminding him about that big meeting he’s got later in the day.

(Soon your skirt shortly flipped up over your ass as he pounds you against his desk, the wood creaking with every thrust as he relieves the pent up stress he’s feeling because this is a very important business meeting he’s got.)

He’ll play your patient and you his nurse who’s oh so willing to do anything her patient needs to get healthy again, even if the doctor’s prescribed cure is as many orgasms as possible.

(He likes when you look over every single inch of him, especially if you have to undress him – he’ll be commenting on how lewd it all is as you peel off his shirt, but his breathing is noticeably heavier and his pants are noticeably tighter – not to mention damp.)

He’ll play the fireman saving you from a burning house, and you’re just so grateful for his heroics and courage that you must repay him somehow!

(And who would he be to turn down your offer of letting him blow his load right into that tight little cunt of yours – as repayment for his hard work, of course!)

He’ll be the professor and you a college student, your grades desperately needing raising as you slowly shimmy off your cardigan, revealing the extremely tight and cropped shirt you’re wearing, the white fabric letting him see everything from your waist and above.

(He’ll have you lean forward, looking at him with sultry eyes as you ask if there’s anything you could do, because you’ll do anything to preform better, sir, because I promise you once I start something, I don’t stop until I finish it.)

He’s game to try almost any scenario, and for the most part it all ends with roughly the same thing – he’s fucking you until you’re nearly sobbing from the overstimulation, his calloused hands running along your body as his labored breaths sound in your ears, his depraved moans in both the scene and of his own volition making your head spin.

He’s a sucker for nearly any kind of roleplay, and if you were to bring up a certain scene? Oh, well – Daichi will almost never say no, but you’d better be prepared to dive deeply into the context because he will be making you play your character.

It’s just so hot to him how your relationship suddenly becomes taboo in the blink of an eye, and yet despite all the compromising situations you pretend to play out, Daichi likes that you’ll start associating him with a character who’s life is inarguably intertwined with yours – after all, where would the multi-billion dollar CEO be without the tight piece of ass he keeps in his office just to service him when things get a bit stressful?

You’re more than that to him, but the effect is the same – he’d be nothing without you, and doesn’t that just make you feel so very special?

OTHER NOTABLE KINKS INCLUDE:

Breeding

Diachi is very much a family man. He’s known from quite early on in his life that he eventually wants children, that he’d love to have a few sons running around shooting Nerf guns at one another, to have a few daughters running around playing tag and pretend.

It’s so heartwarming to him, to think of having his very own family, and once you wander into his life? Well, that desire for children and the parental gene that was semi dormant before suddenly become wildly active – Daichi so badly wants to knock you up, to fuck a baby into you that it becomes something he fixates on any time the two of you have sex.

He still fucks you with the goal of making you both feel good, but now he wants to make you feel good so that his seed will take, so that your tummy will be growing round with his baby.

Each time the two of you are in bed, his hands groping and wandering at every inch of your lovely body, Daichi is imagining the way you’ll look once you’re pregnant.

His fingers squeeze and press into the delicate skin of your breasts, imagining how they’ll swell up, your nipples darkening as milk weighs them down. He imagines how heavily they’ll be as he cups one in each hand, his lips closing around the buds as he suckles, mind filled with fantasies of how you’ll look with droplets of white leaking form your puffy, engorged nipples.

He presses down on your tummy as he fucks into you, marveling at the image of your belly so big you can barely walk, your frail body needing his support to do the simplest tasks, totally dependent on him as you carry what he gave you.

He’ll lick and suck at your clit and pussy, imagining how you’ll grow swollen and hypersensitive, your body having gone without his cock for far, far too long – he can only imagine how insatiable you’ll be after you recover from birth, practically forcing him to stuff you full of him him him.

He will be coming inside you every time, not letting you anywhere near birth control, not having a single condom laying around your shared home – no, it’s just his bare cock and your sweet, fertile and unprotected cunt, joined together and creating something wonderful.

Every time that he fucks you he has the trusty plug nearby, stopping you up once he pulls out to make sure that none of the creamy, sticky white stuffed between your legs leaks out.

He’s spending a few moments to caress your stomach as he tries to catch his breath, dark gaze mesmerized by the image of his cock stuffed into your cunt, almost talking himself into believing your tummy is already swollen from the cum he’d just filled you with.

Daichi will get you pregnant, whether you want him to or not, and once the news comes he couldn’t be happier – after all, you’ll make such a wonderful mother, your stomach round and full and your tits leaking with milk.

Breast Fixation

While your thighs are his favorite part of you (though he doesn’t really have a least favorite part of you – you’re his ideal woman after all), there’s something about your breasts that make Daichi absolutely swoon.

He’s never really identified as a tits man before, firmly preferring legs and thighs. Every bit of porn he’s ever watched he’s all but fast forwarded through the fondling portions, the zoom-ins of the woman’s breasts not doing a huge amount for him compared to way the camera captures the lovely curve of her calves and the plush of her thighs.

But the second that your soft, supple mounds are in front of him? Well, Daichi’s body is reacting before his mind can catch up, before he can realize that he’s reaching out and kneading at the soft flesh, callused hands rubbing and squeezing, a harsh moan tumbling from his lips because fuck you’re so soft, how is that even possible?

He’s reaching out to fondle you at the most random times; in the morning, when your sleeping body is spooning up against his own, he’s reaching around to carefully squeeze and lightly toy with your nipples, feeling the way the soft flesh slowly hardens, how you twitch in your sleep slightly at the minute pressure.

He’s reaching across the dinner table as you chew at your food, fingers giving a firm, purposeful squeeze before he sits back down, content to finish his chicken as he dreams about exactly how your tits will look tonight as he fucks you hard enough to make them bounce.

He’ll teasingly pinch at your nipples when he walks through the door from work, his officer uniform on as he grins and sees the outline of them through the incredibly tight shirt he’d had you put on this morning. And during sex, this doesn’t change; he’s rolling and pulling at your nipples, addicted to the way they pebble, how they slowly tighten up when he blows air onto them.

When his hands aren’t groping your thighs there’s a strong, strong chance that they’re instead present at your chest instead – idly fondling, making you squirm in place as he pushes his hips up against your ass, a murmur of do you feel what these pretty tits do to me babygirl? Can you feel how bad I wanna fuck them?

(And once you get pregnant? God, it’s game over for your chest – he’s fascinated by the way they swell up, how your nipples grow darker and areolas larger, how they’re heavier in his hands. And the second that you start lactating, Daichi is done for – you aren’t allowed to wear a shirt anymore, so that he can constantly be gazing upon your swollen belly and leaking tits, so that he can come by and squeeze one, watching a spurt of milk dribble down, rubbing it all along your skin. He likes nursing on you, muttering how you’ll be such a good mom, how his child is gonna be spoiled for life after getting to suck on tits this fine, this perfect and tasty.)

Really, he just loves your breasts, no matter the size, and Daichi has no shame showing his love – you’re perfect after all, so why should he ever be ashamed of recognizing that?

BIGGEST FANTASY:

While Daichi is completely swamped with explicit fantasies between the two of you, there’s most definitely a hierarchy in terms of what he deems the hottest, what’s most appealing to him, what he’s most desperate to try out with you.

(Of course, he’s not complaining about the onslaught of sexual thoughts he harbors for you – oh no, how could he? How could he possibly be upset when he’s waking up sweaty and panting from dreams starring you without any clothing on? How could he be upset when he’s spending nearly every night wringing himself dry to you, his cock swollen and sore and still aching for more, aching for you?  The only downside is the cost of having to replace the bottle of lube he keeps on his nightstand – he goes through an entire bottle in roughly two weeks, spreading so much around his length just to try and replicate what he’s sure is your incredibly wet, warm pussy.)

He’s watched his fair share of porn over the years, and slept with a few different women. Consequently, he’s aware of most kinks and activities in the bedroom, and as a result he feels he has a grasp on all kinds of different things he could do to get you moaning and gasping, your nails raking down his back, your lips parting into that pretty ‘o’ shape when you come.

However, most of his favorite – most eager – fantasies are more conceptual than specific situations. He’s constantly fantasizing about knocking you up; stuffing you so full of his cum that you’re leaking down your thighs, your skin stained with the creamy white while you shake and shudder underneath him, looking so pretty and warm.

He’ll fantasize about making you squirt, your pretty thighs quaking as his fingers rub desperately over your clit, your cries making his cock so hard it hurts. He dreams about fucking you up against a wall, using every muscle in his body to hold you up while he destroys you with his length.

However, Daichi’s biggest fantasy is to hear you beg for him. Nothing gets him harder than hearing you say how badly you want him, how much you need him. Nothing is more appealing to him than having you verbalize how badly your body craves him, how you’ll never be truly happy and satisfied until he’s buried balls deep inside you, drooling pink tip nestled snugly against your cervix.

It’s the stuff of wet dreams – in fact, many, many nights Daichi has awoken an hour or so before his alarm, sweat dripping from his temples and the very obvious tent his cock is making in his bedsheets letting him know that the ringing please Daichi in his head is the culprit. It satisfies his protective and possessive side, knowing that he’s the one you’re craving pleasure from, that only he can give you what you want, what you deserve.

As soon as he imagines you saying please, oh god please he’s rock hard and desperately craving a release from your fingers, mouth, and pussy. He’s craving to hear the way your voice changes pitch as you get closer and closer, how your back arches up slightly and your grip grows more insistent against his biceps, your voice turning whinier and your words slurred and your pussy getting so goddamn tight -  

The more he imagines you begging for him, for his cock, his cum, anything, the closer he gets, and it’s a sure fire way to obtain a shatteringly powerful orgasm for him. It just turns him on so much.

              His lips press light kisses against your neck, tickling the sensitive skin and making you gasp slightly. His hands ghost against your bare sides, calloused fingertips marveling at your soft skin and making you shiver. He’s above you, hovering over you so that all you can really see is him – his shoulders, rounded with muscle, his jawline (sharp, with a hint of stubble lining the skin), his brown locks falling slightly into his half-lidded eyes, his mouth set into an expression that you can only describe as a mix between utter adoration and lust. It’s a bit overwhelming, and between the pounding in your lower body and the way his fully erect cock is resting against your thigh, you know you can’t just lay down and wait. You need him.

Now. 

              “P-please…” You whisper, eyes squeezed shut as you buck your hips, desperately trying to get some friction to calm the pounding of your lower body. Daichi chuckles, pressing one last kiss against the soft skin of your neck before sitting up. He stares down at you, taking in the messy state of your hair, the rise and fall of your chest, how your lips part just slightly. He smirks down at you, fingertip tracing your jaw as his mind focuses on how fucking perfect you look in this moment. Flustered, disheveled, desperate all for him – exactly how he likes you.

              “Please what, baby girl?” He asks, voice low. You gulp and avert your eyes. 

              “Please, Daichi. T-touch me…” You whisper, still looking away from him. Daichi’s heart swells as his cock visibly twitches against your thigh - you’re just too adorable like this. So needy and horny all for him…

              “Now now, princess. You know only good girls who look at Daddy when they beg get what they want.” The finger tracing your jawline moves down your neck, ghosting over your jugular before dipping down over your collarbone to trace around an areola. You shudder, opening your eyes and looking shyly up at him. 

              “Daddy, please. I need your big, thick cock.” Your voice is whiny, high pitched and so needy, just how Daichi likes it. His heart flutters at the praise; you know exactly what to say to get him aching for you, his primal instincts taking over and pushing him to just ravish you until you’re shaking and too weak to properly stand. And you can feel how it’s affected him; his cock twitching against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, only coaxing on your own desire to be filled, to get the pleasure your body is craving. His fingers close in on a nipple, watching as it hardens below his calloused fingertips. 

              “What does my baby girl want this cock to do, hm?” He asks, accompanying his words with a thrust against your thigh. You moan, shivering at the friction against your skin. Daichi smirks once more, pinching your nipple between his pointer finger and thumb. You whimper at the feeling, and as he lightly pulls and tugs, your eyes fly open, catching his brown gaze that’s boring into you so intensely that you’re sure he can see right into your soul.

              “W-want Daddy to fuck me, please! I n-need Daddy’s cock inside me, want him to make me come so bad. Please, please!” You beg, your voice so clear and ringing out in the hot silence of the bedroom. Daichi pauses for a moment, his lips parting just slightly as he commits this moment to memory - you looking up at him in such desperation and desire, your arms tossed above your head, hair spread out and looking like a halo, and of course your naked, shivering body that’s just begging to be touched, loved, fucked. The next thing he knows, he’s lost complete control over himself, and he’s leaning down, capturing your lips in a heated, messy kiss. 

              When he pulls away for air a few moments later, he’s panting and practically buzzing with excitement and need. He leans down and licks the shell of your ear, and growls. In the low, gravelly tone you’ve learned to associate with a sore pussy for several days afterwards he groans, “Get ready baby girl, gonna fuck you so hard you’ll be screaming Daddy’s name all night.”

              And with that, he pushes in, cursing sharply at the feeling of how you clench down on him as your startled moan rings through the air. He grunts; you’re so fucking warm and wet, and immediately his hips are snapping back, thrusting, creating a bruising pace that leaves you scratching at his back as you chant ‘yes, Daddy, yes’ under your voice over and over. 

              “A-ah, oh Daddy yes yes yes please ngh, oh more -!” You cry out, throwing your head back and clutching desperately at his shoulders, hearing him grunt from deep within his chest.

              “More what babygirl? Tell – fuck, you’re so fucking tight – tell Daddy what more you want.” He growls, slowing his pace ever so slightly as you whine and buck your hips.

              “Want Daddy to fuck me stupid, wanna be his silly little – little girl.” You’re desperate at this point, the stretch of his cock and painfully slow movement against your walls not giving you nearly enough stimulation.

              Daichi smirks, leaning down to press his forehead against yours. “Yeah? Wanna be Daddy’s dumb little girl, all stuffed full of cock?”

              You nod your head, biting your lip and squeezing your eyes shut as he slowly starts moving again, the slap of his balls against your ass making you cry out in pleasure and happiness.

              “Fuck you’re so pretty, my pretty little baby, getting destroyed on Daddy’s fat cock, fuck –“ His words are nearly unintelligible, said mostly for his benefit, but it only makes you cry out louder, a few tears gathering in the corners of your eyes as the minutes pass by, the trace edges of your orgasm creeping up on you.

              And Daichi can feel the way you slowly grow tighter, your moans changing in pitch and volume. He grunts, snapping his hips into you and asking you in a shaky voice, “Something the matter babygirl?”

              You whimper, eyes peeling open to stare into the brown depths of his own. “Gonna – gonna come Daddy, please let me come, wanna come so bad!”

              And when you’re looking at him with teary eyes, desperation written across your face as your walls clamp down on him hard enough to leave him breathless, how could he possibly deny you?

              “Shit, yes – fuck, come for Daddy, cream all over this cock.”

              And all Daichi can do is bury his face into your neck, and keep his hips pistoning into you as he reminds himself that this is finally real, that he’s finally getting to be with you and touch you, and when you clench down around him a good five minutes later, a moan of his name ripping from your throat as you come, Daichi thinks he must have found his heaven on Earth. After all, nothing else can explain the way your body makes him feel, the way you make him feel.

[oozedninjas]

Heyyyy I was wondering if you could do how the boys realize they're in love with you and how they react to said realization? Maybe even how long they'd take to confess??

Sorry if that's too much in one go or if you've already done it, ily and I love your writing <3

These are technically two requests so I'll just stick to "How they realize they're in love" if that's okay :)

MDNI / Turtle guys are mid to late twenties

BAYVERSE GUYS REALIZING THEY'RE IN LOVE

---

Leonardo:

Once he notices, Leo would carefully consider the implications that come with romantic emotions and reflect upon whether or not he's willing to go through what it entails to give himself to someone.

He would make sure this isn't just a fleeting thing before making any decisions on acting upon those feelings. Once he does, he'll drop little hints that surpass obviousness.

Don't get me wrong, it isn't that he is not brave enough to make the moves; it's just that he assumes that what he has to offer is little and prefers to give you all the signs. This way, if you want a relationship with him, you have the necessary tools to let him see that you do want to be courted.

Donatello:

Donnie's sharp enough to recognize what he's feeling the moment he discerns those exquisite tingles in his chest as something beyond just excitement. Yet, like the reserved creature that he is, digesting such emotions and coming to terms with them is… another thing entirely.

I think he would tough it out for the most part. Often bombarded by intrusive thoughts of a negative reaction on your side if you were to find out. His mind plays tricks on him, making him daydream about delightful dates with you, followed by the voice of mockery asserting that could never come to happen.

He has to be realistic. It isn't logical that someone as beautiful and brilliant as you are would risk being with a non-human creature who's not even biologically compatible with you. No, he's better off as your friend.

Raphael:

He knows what he feels for you; however, he refuses to accept it in his heart (or in front of anyone else, for that matter) because it would be too painful not to be reciprocated. Nevertheless, as his feelings for you grow, so do the desires to protect you and keep you safe and secure. This makes it difficult for him to conceal his true feelings to a sharp, tenacious eye as your own.

If he comes to confess his feelings, Raphael would strive to balance his rough exterior with moments of tenderness, as he recognizes the importance of displaying his softer side to achieve more deepening emotional connections.

Mikey

Mikey's excitement and eagerness to be around you would give him away in the blink of an eye. It's cute because he holds this "We should totally date! Haha, joking, joking... UNLESS!" attitude all the time.

I think he would express his feelings in a joyful, creative form. You can expect an outpouring of artistic expressions: drawings, poems, or spontaneous acts of affection.

I think Mike's the one with a higher rate of emotional intelligence; many lessons he's learned across his journey, and in his adult years, it's easier for him to establish his limits and boundaries. With this in mind, I think he would ponder if it's worth potentially ruining his friendship with you. If the answer is yes, he goes with everything he's got.

[game-set-canet]

hey could you make one where the reader is also a tennis player and carlos and she are mixed doubles rivals 🫶🏻

It's Even

Pairing: Carlos Alcaraz x f!reader

category: fluff

warnings: none

Author’s Note: ok, this turned out way different than I intended 🙈 but i hope you like it, lovely anon 🤍

* Y/N = your name * Y/L/N = your last name

MY MASTERLIST

(via Instagram @ carlitosalcarazz)

♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦

"Well...?", you look up from your phone, confused, as Grigor plops down on a chair next to you.

"Good morning, Grigor! What do you mean by 'well...'?"

"What do you think about the draw?", Grigor grins mischievously.

You raise an eyebrow, sceptical:  "What about the draw?"

The Bulgarian leans back, his grin widening: "So, you haven't seen who we're playing in the first round yet?"

Now your curiosity is piqued and you put your phone aside: "No, Dimitrov, enlighten me!"

Grigor leans in conspiratorially and shrugs nonchalantly: "Why don't you ask your boyfriend... and while you're at it, ask him what tactic he and Cristina plan to use for the match."

You feel a gentle blush spreading across your cheeks. Hearing the word "boyfriend" in connection with Carlos gives you butterflies.

You brush a strand of hair from your face and try to play it cool: "We're playing against Carlitos and Cristina?"

"Mhm...", Grigor nods slowly and meaningfully, "And don't you dare get those heart eyes again! Yesterday's practise was enough for me!", Grigor starts laughing, “As soon as Carlos started practising on the court next to ours, you couldn't hit a single serve!"

The gentle blush deepens into a rich tomato red and you shake your head vigorously: "That was because of the wind! And you know it!"

"Of course! The wind!", Grigor leaves no doubt that he doesn't believe a word you say, "Just make sure that doesn't happen during the match, whether your better half is on the other side of the net or not."

*** *** ***

"I can hardly wait for our match tomorrow!", Carlos has one arm around you while your head rests on his chest. You're both lying in the big hotel bed, eyes on the TV.

You smile and lift your head to look at your boyfriend: "You’re really excited about it, aren't you?"

Carlos beams at you and nods: "Of course! It's going to be our first time playing against each other!"

At that moment, you recall a tweet you saw during the rain delay: »Sometimes Carlitos is just like a golden retriever puppy« and the author of that tweet was obviously right.

You grin, furrowing your brow and your hand absentmindedly strokes Carlos' left side up: "But we play against each other all the time?"

"Practise doesn't count! A real match is something entirely different!", his eyes shine with excitement and you feel that special flutter in your stomach, you love him so much.

"Oh yeah, and why's that?"

Carlos makes a grand gesture with the arm that's not around your shoulders: "Because it's going to be something special! Imagine the atmosphere!"

Now you can't hold back a laugh and poke him in the chest: "Carlitos, it's a first-round match, not the Roland Garros final!"

"For me, it has the same importance!", Carlitos matches your grin and you know he's at least partially serious.

You slide away from him a bit and sit up, looking down at him: "So, to you, the Roland Garros final is the same as our first-round match?"

Carlos' grin widens: "Absolutely! Because I'm playing against you!"

"True, and that's why you should be ready for something you've never experienced in a Slam final: you're going to lose."

Your expression is triumphant as you see Carlitos clutch his chest dramatically: "Ouch! What makes you so sure?"

"Grigor and I have already won a title together, and Cristina and you are playing together for the first time."

Carlos just shrugs, the grin returning to his face: "I've achieved a lot of things that seemed unlikely."

You ignore the slight increase in your heart rate at seeing that dazzling grin and toss your hair over your shoulder: "True. But not this time. This time, you’re going to lose."

Carlos doesn't say anything in response, he just pulls you close and gives you a long kiss.

*** *** ***

"Can I give you a tactical tip?" Grigor leans over, a bit out of breath, while you take a long sip from your water bottle, "If you’d stop staring at him, maybe you could actually play tennis."

You nearly choke on your drink and throw an annoyed look at your doubles partner: "And if you’d stop making double faults, maybe we could actually win."

Grigor makes a face and nods slowly before grabbing his tennis racket again: "Well, at least he’s staring at you the whole time too, so I guess it’s even."

Thankfully, it's very hot today, so no one notices your ears turning red. The match has been pretty even so far, but definitely not a highlight reel. Internally, you have to agree with Grigor: your level today is far from outstanding - the same goes for Carlitos. Surprisingly, the stands were almost full, and the crowd is cheering loudly.

"Why do I keep playing with you?", you mutter as you get ready to head back to the court.

Grigor grins widely: "Because you can’t play with Carlos: you two would just stare at each other’s butts the whole time and instead of high-fives after winning a point, it would be a five-minute make-out session."

You have to resist the temptation to throw a tennis ball at his head.

*** *** ***

In the third set, the match finally picks up and Carlitos starts showing why he’s called the golden boy. You also begin to play up to your second-place WTA ranking. Especially the tiebreak is a hard fight, lasting almost 20 minutes.

"Game, set, match, Dimitrov and Y/L/N!"

You hear Grigor sigh in relief next to you: "I thought this match would never end!"

You start laughing as you hug each other enthusiastically.

At the net, you first shake hands with Cristina and then with Carlos.

"I told you you’d lose.", you tease and Carlos laughs softly.

"It’s okay.", he still holds your hand in his and your eyes move from your interlaced hands to his face.

"Even though you claimed yesterday that today's match was just as important as a Slam final for you?"

"I don’t mind losing to you because I’m always so proud of you when you win!"

There it is again: his beautiful smile and your heart skips a beat.

Carlos leans over the net and kisses you.

The crowd cheers.

♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦

tagging: @bluetackbaby @lxndonorris @fedalev @purplecloudarcade

[meanbossart]

ASK COMPILATION: LORE, CHARACTERIZATION, AND THE ONE IN WHICH I RUIN A BUNCH OF PEOPLE'S FUN

As usual, this is far from all of the asks in my inbox but I'm trying to catch up 😩thank you everyone for your patience!

For the record, if your ask isn't being answered, that most likely means one of three things:

I am saving it as a possible art prompt.

I sincerely don't have a very interesting or good reply for it yet!

It's a question I have been asked multiple times/the answer is in my pinned post.

Glad you like them!!

As much as I don't limit what I draw to canonical events, vampirism is so antithetical to DU drow's character journey that I couldn't really envision it, to be honest, but who knows! Maybe I'll cook up some Ascended Astarion scenario someday that is kind of a role-reversal of the Bhaalist DU Drow AU I have going on in tandem to the story.

I'll be honest, this is one of the rare times where I'm really not sure which aspect of DU drow's weirdness this is in reference to. Do you know something I don't? 😅

His masochism is very... Classic, I guess? He's in it for the pain and for the emotional connection, and the process of being pierced wouldn't cut it whatsoever, it's too subtle. The body modifications he has are an incidental result of it, but they were never really the goal.

Also having stuff dangling off his face or body would just irritate him, he specifically only does rings because all other types of jewellery get in the way too much. Pre-tadpole Bhaalist drow obviously wore them by the ton, but only as a symbol of status and because he had a permanent new-money complex🤷 so yeah not a piercing-type of character at all, sorry!

He's smooth from the eyelashes-down and profoundly weirded out by body hair LOL

I don't personally think that whatever Astarion had for a home before would bear my resemblance to it after 200 years - having probably gone through several owners, remodeled, if not completely lost to the destruction of the end-game. I do HC that he used to visit it whenever he could as an enthralled spawn to read his mail, but he stopped after his father passed.

THANK YOU, I THINK? I can't say that isn't a passionate description at least!

I'm honestly surprised that this comes up as often as it does LOL but it's just an stylistic choice on my end!

The latter - for sure. He figured that them dying at each other's hands at the end was a given and took that assumption entirely for granted (and I'm sure daydreamed about it often while Gortash went on and on about political strategy during their dinner meetings.)

;))) way ahead of you and by "way ahead" I mean "eventually and whenever I can figure out when to do it alongside the other 30 ideas I am currently juggling" (but I really do want to make a little comic out of it!)

He used them! Not immediately, but he grew to trust the guardian after some initial suspicion and happily gobbled up those squirmy little things alongside Astarion. Because I made his character on a whim and without any planned backstory, I didn't really put any thought into his Guardian's appearance either, so she's just a human woman with a Joan of Arc look going on who's of no significance to him or his past.

But DU drow did trust her, again not immediately but eventually. It was honestly a big kick in the gut to him when the Emperor revealed himself and it definitely set their relationship up to fail from the get-go.

This is also why he didn't ascend to the next stage of Ilithid power, he just stomped the thing dead right on the spot LOL

LMAO I think Gortash is too proud to chase a tail he can't catch like that

He was probably very overwhelmed by the sudden realization that OH, THIS IS ALL HAPPENING BECAUSE OF ME which naturally didn't come across whatsoever to anyone present since he immediately bottled it up and tucked it away out of sight. However, as the story progressed and DU drow helped his friends get out of their respective pickles he was probably able to justify it to himself as it having been for the greater good - since it led to Astarion being freed from his master and Shadowheart to defying the Sharrans.

As for all of the rest of the ensued destruction and death that resulted from it? Well you can't make an omelette without cracking some eggs, or whatever is the wizard version of that saying. He has essentially turned the entire situation into a net-positive in his mind and sleeps great at night because of it.

[shegatsby]

Hi I'm not sure if you're taking requests if not then please completely ignore this

If you are I was wondering how you think Hannibal Lecter might propose to his female s/o?

No Warnings!

A/N;Hi guys, hope you're having a great day. Enjoy this short imagine. Love you all.

Hannibal planned this trip  a year ago and  he scheduled everything  according to it. His patients, his work with the FBI. He seemed extra prepared for this trip which made you question him. You knew his character, he was always ready for anything but this time was different.

Analyzing people rubbed off on you from him, you’ve been together for 3 years now and living together for 2 years and obviously some of his personality traits made their way to you. You weren’t sure whether  you had affected him the way he did but this last year he was more settled and sometimes carefree. Of course those occasions were pretty rare, but it was fun to see him opening another bottle of wine after being tipsy or cancelling his work just for a get away with you.

When he made the last phone call about his work he was free. ‘’We won’t be bothered anymore, my love.’’ He kissed your temple and together you left your shared home to catch the flight.

Weather in Italy, Portofino was something you needed. Baltimore was too cold for you. He rented a villa up the hills, overlooking the entire town, sea, forests, buildings. The view made you feel you belong to Portofino, maybe one day you’ll live here with him.

You were on the balcony, being in awe of the sight before you while Hannibal was being in awe of you, he hugged you from behind, kissed the tip of your ear. You giggled like a child, he loved that about you, admired your nurturing, yet, carefree spirit. He was aware that together you were in the perfect balance.

Hi hands went to your stomach, he imagined you carrying his child. Before you, he never imagined having someone in his life, of course he had some people that he saw time to time bur being in a committed relationship was something he never dared to dream. The sun was setting, he made you turned and looked at his deep maroon eyes.

He planned everything and it was time,

‘’My dearest, 3 years ago today was the first time that I saw you. You were drinking your coffee, just the way you like, and reading your book.’’

You smiled, you were reading ‘’A Philosophy of Walking’’ by Frédéric Gros, he made a comment about it, thus, you started talking about great philosophers for 2 maybe 3 hours.

‘’But we were so caught off guard by our instant chemistry that you left without bestowing me nothing but your elegant name. Thanks to my connections with the FBI, I found you.’’

You remembered the big bouquet of flowers on your work desk after a day, how scared you were…

Soon you’ve come to realize that Hannibal Lecter, even though he was the epitome of the modern gentlemen, deep down he was a hunter. He lived to chase and catch, you gave him a chase which was worth the ride.

‘’I never want to let you go, what we have is real.’’ He let go of your hands to get a ring from his pocket. You could feel the tears of happiness forming, ‘’Be mine. Forever.’’ You kissed his lips, ‘’Yes,’’ you whispered, ‘’forever.’’

Thank you for reading. :)

[queensunshinee]

Time Of Our Lives || Part 11

Part 11:

Liana could easily say she would pay thousands of dollars to fly home on another day. But obviously she didn't have thousands of spare dollars, and the ones who bought her the plane tickets were her parents, along with Art's parents. Of course, seating them side by side the entire way from Stanford home.

Most of the semester she managed to avoid him. From time to time she would feel a scrutinizing gaze on her and knew it was Art, but every time she looked up to tell him to go fuck himself, their eyes didn't meet.

Now she has to spend several hours on the plane next to him, with both of them remembering the last time they flew together and she fell asleep on his shoulder. Both know she doesn’t plan on sleeping a single moment on this flight. There’s no way that in a moment of weakness, she will touch Art Donaldson by choice ever again.

Liana's leg shook uncontrollably, causing Art to sigh. He wanted to pull out one of her earbuds and tell her she could relax and that he wouldn’t bite her (no matter how much he wanted to). At this stage, he already thought it was ridiculous. Months have passed, and she acted as if he didn’t exist when they both knew that if they just talked about it, this horrible period would be behind them.

"I bought the snack you like with the jam." He couldn’t resist and pulled out one of her earbuds. His hand brushed her cheek for a second. If he were a stronger man, he wouldn’t have done it. But even if Art Donaldson is strong in most areas of life, he is very weak when it comes to Liana Levy.

"Can I have it back, please?" She asked with a coldness that never characterized her. Even before Stanford, when they were younger, and she tried to make him think she didn’t want any connection to him, she wasn’t cold. She would roll her eyes, go into tantrums, and distance herself as much as she could. She was never indifferent to him. He feared this indifference like a sheep fears a lion.

He put the earbud in her hand and left his hand on hers. She let him for a moment, and he closed his eyes, relishing the touch that lasted exactly three seconds until she recovered and moved away from him as much as she could. As if he might infect her with an incurable disease.

She took the snack he bought for her. Because if there’s one thing to say about Liana, it's that she can't give up her manners, and even when she’s furious with him to the core, she will do this small act to please him. It made his heart ache and kept him silent for the rest of the flight.

Again, like in a déjà vu feeling, her father was waiting for them, and they got into the car. "Liana, even if Mom acts coldly, it's not because she's angry. Okay?" Her father suddenly said, and Liana blushed. Art examined her as she shrank into her seat. "Can we talk about this at home?" She asked quietly, embarrassed by the direction of the conversation. "No, because Mom is at home, and Art is practically family. Right, kiddo?" Her father smiled at him through the mirror. God, how he loved her father and the small window he opened for him into her life. "Anyway, she almost completely fine with everything, and she even wanted to call a few days ago to ask how you were doing." Her father continued. Art didn’t know something had happened between Liana and her mother. "How long has it been like this?" He suddenly asked, his voice much more confident when her father was in the car because he knew Liana wouldn’t complicate the situation. Especially if she’s already in some kind of fight with her mother. "Since the day we talked about London, probably. The day Li flew back to Stanford." If her father could, he would give Art her entire life story at any given moment. He really loved Art as if he were the son he never had.

Art started connecting the dots; That’s the reason she came to him as soon as she landed that day. That’s the reason she seemed so shaken, and that’s the reason he thought she had been crying. She and her mother fought that day. A fight big enough not to speak again for months. And instead of supporting her and insisting on knowing what happened, Art made that day even worse.   The thought that Patrick was going to erase him from her life sharpened at that moment. He knows Patrick would’ve read the situation better. He knows Patrick wouldn’t have acted the way he did that night. Art knows Patrick is selfish in every aspect of his life, except for Liana. While Art happens to be the most selfish when it comes to Liana.

Despite Art’s grandmother ruining all her birthdays throughout her life, Liana loved her as if she were her own grandmother. That’s how she found herself in a car with Art Donaldson, on the way to her nursing home. Because she couldn’t leave the country without seeing her, and Art... well, he heard about it from his parents and said he would drive her because he also wanted to see his grandmother. And once again, only Liana knew that Art was a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

"Are we really not going to talk the whole drive?" Art asked. He was dressed nicer than usual and smiling more than usual. On another day, Liana would have found his smile charming, but the last two weeks at home had been filled with silent fights between her and her mother, who probably wouldn’t forgive her in her lifetime. Right now, Liana wanted to wipe the smug smile off Art's face with a slap. But she wasn’t a violent person, so she simply turned up the radio and looked out the window. "Are you planning anything for your birthday?" Art asked, turning the radio back down to its original volume.

"Tell me, is this a mental illness? Are you bipolar or something?" she retorted, only causing his dimple to become more pronounced. "These are really concerning mood swings, I recommend you check it out and really shut up for the rest of this trip that I don’t even know why you joined. You can visit your grandma literally any other day and not with me like a psychopath." She mumbled the last part, causing Art to chuckle.

"Is it amusing to you, Arthur?" she asked, genuinely unable to read the person in front of her. A person whom just a few months ago her instincts betrayed her and made her think she knew all about him.

"It amuses me that you're trying so hard to hate me, Li, instead of taking a moment and talking to me." He said with feigned calmness. Art knew he was getting close to the point where Liana wouldn’t be able to resist and would just spill everything that was on her mind. He knew that from the moment it happened, it would be easier for him to deal with her. He knew that from the moment she started showing him she was angry at him and not ignoring him as if he didn’t exist, he would be able to turn things back.

Maybe not to Christmas when she was completely his, but before, when she looked at him and really saw him. When she cared for him because he was sick. When she came to some of his practices. When she was an inseparable part of his day. If she'll leave when she was at that point again, maybe Patrick won’t be able to take over what remained of her feelings for him. Maybe he'd have a chance to be in her life.

"You’re delusional." She muttered, turning up the radio again. "You look beautiful today. All this to impress my grandmother? You know she already loves you." He turned it down again, still amused. Liana sighed and rolled her eyes. This was going to be a very long drive.

"Jessica, you look amazing!" Liana said and hugged Art’s grandmother. His heart filled in a way he didn’t know it could. How did he never notice? How did he not notice how much attention Liana paid to such an important figure in his life? And so for a few hours, they sat and played cards and Scrabble with his grandmother and her two friends, and they listened to gossip about the seniors at the nursing home. Liana was so good. So attentive. So present.

"Lia," his grandmother started when the three of them were left alone, "at your wedding, I won't be there, but say a few words about me so that Art’s grandfather hears from his grave and gets jealous." She tossed it out casually. As if everything in this scenario was self-evident; It was clear to her they would get married, it was clear to her she wouldn't be there, and it was clear to her that her deceased husband would hear.

Art chuckled quietly, watching Liana and seeing how red she was. Even her ears had changed color.

"Don’t worry, Grandma. We’ll talk about you the whole event." If he had been less smug about everything, he would have shut up. But he couldn’t stop himself. He had to see if he could make her blush even more. If there was another button he could press to make her release what she had against him, so eventually he could get back into her life.

"When Art gets married, Jessica, you’ll be there and hold his hand. And at my wedding, you’ll be the guest of honor." Liana said, trying to steady her voice. Art chuckled. The shameless bastard just chuckled. The look Liana shot at him would have killed any sane person. But Art didn’t consider himself very sane at that moment, and certainly not someone who feared an angry look from Liana Levy.

"She’s dismissing you, Arthur. What are you doing about it?" His grandmother looked amused by Liana’s embarrassment and Art’s feigned indifference. "Don’t worry, Grandma, I’m on it," he smiled and hugged her.

"Lia, promise me you’ll keep calling me even when you’re far away and fall in love in Europe," Jessica looked at her with a penetrating gaze. "Yes, Lia, promise her." Art said, causing her to look at him for a moment. At this stage, he wasn’t sure he would survive the day, but it would probably be a sweet way to die. "Jessica. If until now I’ve called once a week, without missing, nothing will change that." Liana hugged her again, and they moved towards the car.

"You're calling my grandma once a week?" Art didn’t know this. Why didn’t anyone tell him this? He wanted to scream. Since they were kids, Art was sure he wanted to be much closer to Liana than she wanted to be. And that was fine, he got used to the piercing looks, sarcastic words, and eye rolls. Stanford changed that. Stanford made them equals. They saw each other in the same way. They wanted to be close in the same way. They were in each other’s space. For him, Liana's change happened at Stanford. The change happened this year. And then he discovered things like this. He discovered that Liana was calling his dying grandma once a week and helping her pass the time.

"Can you fucking answer me?!" He raised his voice. He didn’t want to raise his voice. But his patience for the silent treatment, his punishment, had run out. He felt like a little boy who was told to stand in the corner for four months and expected not to explode.

"Arthur-" she sounded bored when he cut her off. "Art." He said firmly and made a sharp U-turn on the highway, driving in the opposite direction of their home. "What the fuck?! Art! Where are you going?" she asked, a bit scared by his change in approach. He didn’t answer her and continued driving until he stopped in a place empty of people, surrounded by sand with no building in sight.

"Where are we, Art?!" she asked for the umpteenth time.

Art got out of the car and closed his eyes, breathing heavily, hearing her get out too. "I'm not joking with you. Take me home. Now!" She crossed her arms under her chest, and he approached her, invading her personal space.

Liana managed to see his eyes up close for the first time in months. They were filled with tears. Her initial instinct was to reach out a hand to his cheek, but she restrained herself from moving. Their breathing was heavy as they examined each other. Art's first tear fell on his cheek.

Every bone in Liana's body screamed at her to hug him. Every internal and external limb of hers burned with the need to ease his pain. But she knew he didn’t deserve it. She knew that whatever was happening now, Art deserved to feel it.

"Please, Liana." He mumbled. His voice was broken. This wasn’t how Art planned this day. He planned to dress nicely, drive to his grandma’s, remind Liana of all the things he was good at. Remind her that he was much more kind than he was mean. Instead, he was crying. Instead, he was looking at her and realizing that in a few days she would leave, and maybe he would never feel the same way for anyone else. Maybe he didn’t want to feel all these emotions for anyone else. Maybe only with Liana could he feel so much.

Art slowly dropped to his knees. Not taking his eyes off Liana. Her breathing became even heavier, and her eyes filled with tears too. She had never seen such a thing. A person willing in the middle of the street to drop to their knees before another person, while in tears.

"Art, get up..." she mumbled, wanting to look around to see that no one was coming, but afraid to take her eyes off the scene before her. Her instinct won this time, and she placed both her hands on the sides of his face, wiping away the endless tears, while Art, like an addict to the feeling, leaned into the warm and gentle touch with his eyes closed.

"Do you even know what you did to me?" she asked, and he opened his eyes, looking at her with longing. With a desire to absorb everything she had to say to him. "You ruined me, Art Donaldson. You broke me." She said, and he stood up slowly. "I'm sorr-" he started, and her hand found his cheek with force. Liana wasn’t a violent person. Liana is not a violent person. "You have no right to ask for forgiveness." She stated. "That was the first time I slept with someone, Art." Her voice sounded like the cry of a wounded animal. "Did you think about what such a formative experience would do to my sex life? Did you think about the trust issues I would have? That I would never be able to trust anyone like I trusted you?" She cried so hard she couldn’t resist his embrace while his crying intensified.

"I will never be able to behave the way I behaved with you. You used me to get back at Patrick. You used me to win a competition only you participated in." She pushed him a bit away from her, and they stood facing each other again, both trying to breathe. After a few minutes of this, silence and piercing looks, Art dropped to his knees again, and Liana looked everywhere but at him. With the last of her strength, she tried to resist the magnetic pull Art Donaldson has on her. "Li, look at me." His broken voice commanded her without commanding, he couldn’t command anything for anyone. He was on his knees for her. "You're pathetic." She said. Without blinking. She never talked like that to anyone. All he could do was nod and hug her leg while she looked up at the sky, again with tears in her eyes, running a finger through one of his curls. "I will be good. I promise." He said what he demanded from her every time they were intimate with each other. Their gazes crossed once more, "I will be good even when you’re not here. I will be good for you."

HEYYYYYYYYY How are we doing with that gap of 2 days? I hope it was worth the wait. I hope that you're not getting tired of this story yet 'cause I'm still obsessed with them all, but I don't want you guys to feel like I'm dragging the entire thing. Patrick and Liana are going to London in the next part. Who's excited??? You're always welcome to the comments or the ask box and have a chat with me. also, taglist is open if you want :)

taglist: @marley1773 @ruyaas-world @apolloscastellan @primlovesdilfs @fangirl-kimora @serenadingtigers @imbabycowboy @do-it-for-kicks @izzywags478 @4deline08 @igotmajordaddyissues @jackierose902109 @ganana @yoitsme-04 @swetearss

[moonstruckme]

i recently found your page and i became instantly obsessed, you're such a good writer!! i'm not sure if you're taking requests rn (if you're not, ignore this hahaha) but i saw a post somewhere saying that when spencer is in love he loses the sense of direction 😭 we saw moments like those with lila and maeve (like he starts walking but then it's the wrong direction <33) and i was thinking about that with bau!reader!! they're on a case and he gets distracted by her and starts walking on the opposite direction or says something wrong and the team is all like??? because he never gets things wrong and maybe morgan teases him or something like that

sorry for the veryyyy long message!! i just thought it could be so cute, and you would write it perfectly!! obviously if you want to write it in a different way it's okay, i would be happy if you wrote it (but again, if you're not feeling it it's completely okay!! 💗) thank you and have a good day :))

Thank you sweetness <3

Spencer Reid x bau!reader ♡ 539 words

There’s an eyelash on your cheek. You’re staring at the board, and your lips are all pursed, and you’re sitting forward on your elbows, and there’s an eyelash on your cheek. Spencer has no idea how you haven’t noticed it, sitting there with both ends curled upward, precipitous on the curve of your cheekbone.

You’re saying something to Hotch about the overly gruesome nature of the case, how it points to a connection with the victims. Your cheek moves as you talk. The eyelash looks like it should be a breath away from falling off, and yet it stays stubbornly in place. Spencer really, really wants to get it for you. It’d be such a tiny gesture, the quick brush of his finger underneath your eye, so brief no one would have the chance to question it. He wonders if you believe in wishing on eyelashes. He’s seen you throw salt over your shoulder more than once, but you claim it’s more a habit from childhood than actual superstition. Still, you’re more a romantic than you like to let on. But the origin of the salt tossing is more rooted in Christianity, Spencer thinks, whereas the practice of wishing on eyelashes is more recent and often suspected to be rooted in Paganism. It supposedly emerged only in the eighteenth or nineteenth centuries, when someone in the British isles spread word that blowing an eyelash off your finger was the equivalent of blowing away the Devil, and eventually the belief morphed into good luck and wishes. Spencer wonders what you’d wish for. 

“And it’s pretty clear what this is hailing to.” Prentiss’ voice is weary. 

“Paganism,” Spencer says quietly, absentmindedly.

“What?” 

Spencer blinks, returning to the room to find the entire table has turned to look at him. “Sorry, I—I was thinking about something else.” He glances at the board. “Jack the Ripper. The degree of mutilation is the same.” 

“Right,” Hotch says, instantly back on task. “And if we’re right, he’s going to act again soon. Wheels up in twenty.” 

Spencer picks up his bag, but doesn’t leave the room. “Hey,” he says as you stand, stepping closer to you. “You’ve got an eyelash.” 

You blink, almost knocking it askew, but hold still as Spencer brings a hand to your face, brushing it onto his finger. 

Your cheek pushes upwards as you give him a lopsided smile. “Thanks,” you say.

“Wanna make a wish?” 

You make a soft, amused sound. “I don’t believe in that, and I know you don’t either.” But when Spencer holds up his fingertip, you lean forwards anyway. Your mouth purses prettily, a tiny little o, and you blow softly. It’s a small puff of air, but the eyelash whirls off into the air. The both of you track it until it reaches the ground.

You quirk an eyebrow at Spencer as if to say satisfied? and go, passing your hand along his arm fondly as you exit.

Spencer follows after you like you’ve got him on a leash, and it’s only once he’s in Garcia’s office that you say “Do you need something, Spence? I just came to bring Penelope something,” and he realizes he’s completely forgotten where he was supposed to be going.

[jeffreyfrancoeur]

Can we just...stop comparing Colin to Anthony? Please? They aren't remotely close to the same person, and it's frankly disheartening to see time and time again now.

"Colin had no trauma related to love and self worth to deal with like Simon and Anthony had."

Unless I am very much mistaken, Colin and Anthony have the same father. They both watched said father die from a bee sting. They both watched their mother hold her dying husband in her arms and sob because she just lost the love of her life. The only difference? Anthony was 18, and Colin was 10-12, depending if we're talking show or book. Regardless, watching his father die absolutely gave Colin trauma.

Colin was sent off to Eton not months after his father died. He never was able to process it with his own family, because they stuck together and processed it together. But Colin had to go away to school. And when he was home, he would bring flowers and play games and try to keep everyone smiling. The only way he felt useful was to focus on everyone else's happiness and diminish his own needs.

He went away on travels each year to try to find himself, process his own trauma and experiences. His engagement to Marina blew up in his face, so he immediately left to go traveling, to lick his wounds away from the rest of the ton. And while he was gone, Penelope was the main one to read and reply to his letters. When he got back, his own family diminished him, said it was a waste of time, that his "prattling on about his travels" was boring. So what did that teach Colin? That his family doesn't care about him. Doesn't value him. Doesn't find his time, his experiences, worth it. Eloise says to Pen (in front of Colin) that she found his letters about Greece dull, and couldn't finish them.

So at the beginning of season 3, when he's returned from another summer away, after no one in his family replied to a single one of his letters, and in the carriage to the presentation, he's absolutely going to not want to talk about his travels with Anthony. "Who are you and what have you done to our brother?" You happened to Colin, Anthony. Colin is masking and pretending like his travels weren't a big deal, that they didn't affect him, when he straight up tells Penelope later that he used the time away to remake himself into a new man. To try out a new persona, away from the ton, where no one knew him as Colin Bridgerton, or as a Bridgerton at all. He was just some nameless man.

He felt like he had no one back home to care about him, so the problem must obviously be him. That there was something wrong with who he is as a person, and that maybe this new version of himself would finally make the people back home--and his family--care about him. Maybe this version would finally be the version of him that's good enough.

So when he comes back to London, he's a flirt. He plays at being a "rake." He sleeps with random women. He goes out drinking with his "friends" all the time, laughs with them at their conquests. But he doesn't enjoy any of it. His mother tells him that he's always been one of her most sensitive children, always putting others first, helping them, trying to lighten the mood. But she also says that he downplays himself for the sake of others. That he puts on armor, that he needs to not put others first so he can ensure that the armor will not some day rust and be unable to be removed. She is possibly the only person who sees Colin, truly sees him.

He feels like he needs to hide his sensitive side, be less needy, be stronger, be more manly. (I would eat my hat if Anthony hasn't told him to "be a man" more than once.) This flirty rake is not who he is at his core. At his core, he is kind, and sensitive, and craves connection. He craves connection so deeply. He wants to be seen, to be loved, to be cared for, to be cherished. Ultimately, he wants someone to value him, like he does for all those around him that he cares about. His family ignored him for that entire summer, and he still brought back incredibly thoughtful gifts for each of them, that shows how much he knows them and loves them. He wants to be able to love, care for, and cherish someone in return.

How is his desire for love and to be loved and this ease in which he creates a new Colin to try and please everyone else not a trauma response related to love and self worth?

[lacy-oh-lacy]

-𝐓𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝-

Scream Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Summary: A protective!Sam, comfort drabble

CW: sexual harrassment and non-consensual touching but the fic takes place after the fact, violence, Sam is mildly injured, guilt, angst

Most days you liked having a protective girlfriend.

Most days you felt safe knowing Sam had your back, practically untouchable.

Today wasn't one of those days. Standing in front of her, examining the purple blooming on her face you only felt terribly uneasy.

A hiss escaped Sam's teeth as biting cold connected with her jaw.

"Sorry." You said, grabbing her hand with your free one -the one not holding an ice pack to her face- and her fingers curled around it in a reassuring grip.

"It's alright."

'Alright'. The word felt like a taunt.

You kept gnawing at the inside of your cheek, the same way guilt kept gnawing at your gut.

It was entirely illogical of course. It wasn't your fault. That man never should of put his hands on you.

"I'm alright." She said firmer, obviously noticing the storm cloud hanging over your head. Her tone softened as she added, "I'm more worried about you."

"Me? I didn't get hit."

Her doe eyes looked so emotional and protective -and as guilty as you felt.

"You got assualted."

Just like that, the memory you had mentally sidelined swung back like a wrecking ball and a fresh wave of nausea made your stomach clench.

The fear that gripped you when Sam started swinging at the man -and worse when he started swinging back- overpowered the wholly different kind of fear you felt when he first began lingering a little too close to you, taking advantage of the crowded street to invade your personal space.

You were lucky to have Sam. Her sharp eyes clocked him immediately, even before discomfort grew heavy in your stomach. His groping hands were barely on you a few seconds before she could push him away.

"I know... but you should've been more careful. You could've gotten hurt."

"You know I've been stabbed before, right?" She said lightly, trying to sound unfazed. "Like... a lot."

"Yeah and I don't want it to happen again." The words came out harsh and regret followed swiftly.

Great. She helped you and now you were snapping at her.

"I don't want you to get hurt." You amended. Your voice was barely above a whisper but the pain laced through it was loud and clear.

"I know." Sam let go of your hand to pull you into her lap, her arms wrapping around your waist. "I don't want you to get hurt either, that's why I had to do something."

Her hold was soft, warm, protective... The total opposite of that stranger's touch.

You twisted around until you could see her face, her attentive eyes still trained on you, only fluttering closed as you leaned in.

Her lips were gentle against yours -hesitant. You guessed you could understand why. Even with that, the contact filled you with reassurance.

You pulled back, pecking her nose on the way. Despite herself, she couldn't stop the upturn of her lips at the gesture and seeing her smile made you mindlessly mirror it.

"Thank you for that... for having my back."

Her hold on you tightened just a fraction as if to prove the point.

"Always."

[shinra33459]

I feel terrible for Spider

I get that a lot of people don't like Spider as a character, but when looking through his backstory, his childhood has been straight up fucking awful. And what better way to showcase this than to do one of my favorite things: playing psychoanalyst. Miles Socorro was born on Pandora in 2154, likely a few months before the Battle for the Tree of Souls. Growing up, he resented his father, and his mother, Paz, was killed in the final battle who he feels the closest kind of connection too, even though he never got to know her. Back in Hell's Gate when he was growing up, he wasn't close to his foster parents, Nash McCosker and Mary, and really only returned to them to eat, sleep, or when the Sullys didn't want him around. He grew up his entire life immersed in Na'vi culture, so much so that he feels like he's more Na'vi than he is human, even going so far as to paint blue stripes on his skin, style his hair in Na'vi dreadlocks, and wear a Na'vi loincloth to feel more like one of them. He's fluent in their language, knows the customs of the Omatikaya, learned to live as they do, hunt as they do, and survive as they do. In a way, he's a mirror image of Jake with the key difference being that Spider doesn't have an avatar to put his consciousness into. All the while, Neytiri treats him like shit his entire childhood, berating him, keeping him away from family gatherings, and even trying to forbid him from seeing Kiri when he was growing up. Jake stands up for him from time to time and is somewhat accepting as Jake knows exactly what Spider is going through, but even then, Jake literally refers to Spider as a stray cat. Not as the person Lo'ak and Kiri are the closest to and view as a sibling but likening him to a stray animal. Neytiri has valid trauma, but that does not excuse her actions. Her actions border on actual emotional and psychological abuse, and then when slashing him with her knife and then holding him at knifepoint and threatening to kill him as leverage, it crosses the line into physical abuse. Her pain gives her no right to treat a literal child the way she has. A child is not responsible for the sins of the father, and he didn't ask to be born human, hell, he didn't even ask to be born, period.

Now, it's obvious that he looked up to Jake and Neytiri in some way before everything, maybe not parental, be he obviously had a deep respect for them. They were the parents of the people he saw as siblings, and it's obvious that even back then, he was looking for any sort of parental affection. From when he was an infant to when he is 16, he never had anything really resembling that in a way that truly mattered, which is likely another reason why he hung out with the Sully family as much as he did, and likely hoping for anything resembling that. So, when Quaritch comes back, and says that he cares, even if Quaritch was just doing it to manipulate Spider, is it any wonder he started forming a bond with the man, especially over the months he was in captivity? He's been cut out of any parental affection for really his entire life, and here comes a Na'vi clone of his biological father who appears to be offering that to him. Combine that with the possibility of some form of Stockholm Syndrome, is it any wonder why he saved Quaritch as well? And then by the time Spider is fully adopted into the Sully family, he's 16 years old, two years away from being a full-grown man. The damage is already done. If he were a real person, he would be psychologically scarred beyond belief, and it wouldn't be surprising that a person like Spider would end up with behavioral issues, difficulties forming healthy relationships, boundary issues, self-esteem issues, and potentially substance abuse issues among a laundry list of others. This poor kid deserved and still deserves way better than what he's gotten, and it's likely that his treatment over the years, not having any kind of a stable childhood, growing up without a stable family, and so many more, likely damaged him for the rest of his life. I genuinely hope that he can find some kind of peace in the upcoming movies, because thus far, his entire life has been one gigantic trainwreck.