#not even just in public actually but in himself

[mattybsgroupie]

— tub ★ matt sturniolo

— CONTENTS: established relationship; making out; semi-public sex; p in v; creampie; sub!matt

— NOTES: i literally gasped when i saw that pic and i just had to tell @mattscoquette how much i needed hot tub sex with him. well… here it is! i know i have so many requests but i promise i’m gonna write them all! not proofread as usual, i apologize for any mistakes, hope you enjoy it ♡

“finally” matt mumbled under his breath as he watched chris drink his last sip of soda before wrapping himself in a towel and getting inside the house. you chuckled at his comment, dragging your arms across the warm liquid that embraced you and moving towards matt. “why? i thought you were having fun”.

“i will have fun” he said, reaching for your hands and interlocking your fingers in each other’s palms as he pulled you closer, face to face with him. “now that it’s only us” .

“you’re so lucky water distorts the actual form of things” you teased, placing your forearms around his shoulders and comfortably positioning yourself on his lap, feeling matt’s boner against you. “i could tell you were hard 30 minutes ago” you continued, index flickering around matt’s necklace. you went further, bringing the chain in between your teeth before closing your lips around the cold metal, deeply staring inside his blue orbs.

“it’s not my fault” matt whispered, not being able to keep his eyes off of you. “not when you look this good” he allowed his hands to travel across your body, stopping by your hips and forcing them down. you gasped with the sudden contact, matt’s cock seemed to have gotten even harder if that was possible.

the purple, blueish light that shimmered from the corners of the tub along with the warm bubbles turned the moment intimate, and matt couldn’t help it — he pressed his chapped lips on your neck, licking the tiny droplets of water there.

you let out a heavy sigh, letting go of his chain and tilting your head to the side, allowing matt to go further. his stubble tickled against your skin as the kisses got more heated, his teeth gently nibbling on your exposed neck.

lost in matt’s touch, your hips started moving in a pace of their own, slowly grinding your covered pussy against matt’s hardened cock. the pressure caused by the water intensified the proximity of your parts, causing matt to groan in a low tone, trying his best to stay quiet.

“my good boy doesn’t wanna be loud?” you teased and matt threw his head back, squeezing his eyes shut. “mhm” he nodded, “don’t call me that”.

“why? you don’t want chris to know his big brother is all worked up from a little grinding?” matt nods again. your thumb hovered over his lips, brushing above the lower one before pulling it down in a pout. “use your big boy words” you demand as matt sticks his tongue out, licking your digit.

“need you” matt whined, his grip on your waist growing tighter. “need you so bad, please” he repeated, slightly jerking his pelvis upwards, a silent plead for you to notice his aching cock. you leaned in and sealed your lips together, intensifying the kiss as your hands traced their way down his torso, your nails scratching his chest.

matt’s hands went to your ass, harshly grabbing your flesh and lifting you from his lap. you took the opportunity to quickly pull his shorts — just enough to free his dick from the swimwear he was wearing. you could tell matt’s eyes were wandering around the backyard, as if he was checking if you were actually alone. you cupped his cheeks, forcing him to look at you and smiling warmly, letting him know he didn’t have to worry about a thing.

his sneaky fingers reached the straps of your bikini, easily undoing the tie and letting the black fabric hang loose, your bare pussy now only a few inches away from his shaft. matt guided you towards his length, lowering your cunt on his tip. you let out a deep sigh before fully sitting on him, his dick opening you up entirely. “fuck fuck fuck” he whimpered, “s-so tight fuck”.

“be a good boy hm? you want to shut you up?” you said, trying your best to keep your composure. matt’s veins pumped inside you, his tip brushing on your cervix. “nhng— yes… can’t be loud”. you chuckled at his eagerness, pressing your lips against his once more and sliding your tongue in, twirling the wet muscle around his own.

“you’re so big” you said amidst the kiss before pulling away, flickering your gaze from his lips to where your parts met. “look how good you fill me up hm?” matt nodded. it all felt too good. almost too much. he had been staring at you for hours, and his cock was throbbing underneath that bathing suit. the warm water around his body, your hands pressing his biceps, your pussy squeezing him. “you’re right here” you said, gently grabbing his wrist and placing his palm on your tummy.

“please i-i need to—” matt whimpered, his grip on your ass growing tighter as he bucked his hips upwards, mindlessly pounding inside you. you felt your own high approaching, the familiar knot on your lower belly begging to be released. “cum! please!” matt cried out loud. you shushed him, grabbing his jaw and lifting his chin up. moans came from the back of his throat, and you had no other choice but to bring your fingers to his open mouth. matt immediately wrapped his lips around your knuckles, sucking them with all his might.

“good boy” you praised him, receiving a muffled whine from him. “cum for me baby, fill me up” as you gave him permission, matt’s entire body trembled underneath you. his orgasm washed over him and his release threw you over the edge, the warm, thick spurts of cum painting your walls white.

matt panted heavily, tiny droplets of water dripping from his brown strands. none of you wanted to let go or get up, the comfort of being in each other’s embrace being enough to fall asleep right there — and you wouldn’t mind cockwarming him for the rest of the night. unfortunately, you still had to find your bikini panties and he had to make sure his brothers were already asleep. “hey, at least we didn’t make any messes huh?” he joked, giving you one last kiss before getting up and turning the lights from the hot tub off.

— TAGLIST ★ @thepubeburgler @submattenthusiast @pearlzier @mattsfavbitchhh @bugeyedgrl @sturncakez @riowritesitall @mattsturnswife @sturnsmia @sturnthepot @mattscoquette @conspiracy-ash @ilovemattsturn @lizzymacdonald06 @blahbel668 @fratbrochrisgf @sturnobsessedwh0re @cayleeuhithinknott @sturniolo04 @1c3b4th @mattsfavbigtitties @bellassturniolo @sturnsxplr-25 @ivammbb @shadowthesim237 @slutformatthewsturniolo @stefansring @teeheeomg @dystfopia @riasturns @faiyaz555 @sturnslutz @alesturniolos @emely9274 @courta13 @elandrys @sturns-mermaid @mattsplaything @marrykisskilled @bells-sturn @mattsgstring @strnilolover @jetaimevous @aaliyahsturniolo @evie-sturns @ivysturnss

complete masterlist ★ matt masterlist

[drafty-castle]

The comments section of this post is, well, very Tumblr. However: @slothorperhapscrow and others who are ‘wait, so he’s a Nazi but not a Nazi but is a Nazi?�� or perhaps just ‘water is wet’ about this, I’d like to give another interpretation.

I don’t think this post was made for those who already hate Elon Musk, who despise him, who have followed the money and the social media fails over years and are already aware of the kind of person he is.

I think this post was for those who still follow him, who still believe in the mask he has created, who have fallen for all the propaganda. I think the point is to hammer home to these people that he isn't who he presents himself to be, he doesn’t believe in what they believe in, no matter what signals - like the salute - he sends out because all he really believes in is his own power. Philip Low is telling the tech bros that Musk is not one of them. Low is telling the republicans who have accepted the propaganda how Musk has historically lied and manipulated his image to get him - personally -the most money, with no thought of those around him, including his friends. Low is telling the bigots and racists and even the actual Nazis in America that they're supporting someone that does not hold to their ideals and is using them to prop up his own personal power base.

I think its possible that post is even for those who are fence-sitters. People who don't like Musk - or don't have enough of an opinion on him - as a person but are willing to continue using his corporate products - using twitter/x, buying Tesla cars, etc. - all actions that continue to funnel money into Musk's pocket.

Functionally, I think this letter to the editor post was trying to break up some of Musk's middle and working class power base - his cult of personality, if you will - by bringing to light the ideological differences between him and many of his followers through symbolic actions such as the Sieg Heil. To highlight Musk's loyalty to no cause other than his own personal power and ego and dispel the idea - through the deliberate use of the Hitler salute - to all Nazi, fascists, and sympathizers that he is "one of them". As well as cut through as much of the "autism" smokescreen that has been thrown up in front of it as possible among those who have been trying to dismiss his actions as "awkward" rather than acknowledge them for the dog-whistle it was.

I don't know Philip Low, never heard of him before and don't plan on looking him up. Personally, I don't think billionaires should exist and that "self-made billionaire" is an oxymoron. That said, the 1% - hells, the 0.01% - live completely different lives than the rest of us. I am completely willing to believe that he has insight into Elon Musk's past dealings and personal interactions amongst fellow billionaires that the general public would have no way of having access to. I am also willing to accept that such a billionaire can look at what has been going on in the last few weeks - or few years - and lay out an analysis of Musk's actions and motivations that strip away all the flash and glamor to show the pathetic, if incredibly dangerous, man Elon Musk actually is.

[thereweredragonshere]

Some Hiccup head canons I have 👍

Rtte timeline

Can crack every single bone in his body (as in how you crack your knuckles) and it makes a sickeningly loud crunching sound every single time he does it.

Freakishly flexible

Smokes Opium on occasion to deal with particularly bad pains

Speaking of pains, he's covered in burn scars.

Happens less often since it's been a few years, but sometimes right after he's woken up, he'll forget he's missing a leg and briefly gets very confused

Ice is his number one enemy

^ has slipped over in public more times than he'll ever willingly admit

Still keeps a pair of shoes instead of just the right one.

Always smells of something chemically or burnt from working in the forge all the time.

All of his fingertips are slightly charred

Often finds twigs in his hair

Sleep talks

Sleep walks but that's rarer and usually wakes up within the first minute or so

He has had to convince several people that he isn't a demon/god/deity/prophet/cult leader/half dragon/lycanwing

^ Has almost been burnt at the stake for demon allegations.

Speaks fluent French

^ So does Stoick. If they're having a dispute in public, it is in French.

^ Yells in French when overly annoyed/frustrated

Designated person to get rid of bugs

Goes on alone midnight walks, even without Toothless

Lightning makes him jumpy

Handwriting is so bad it's almost illegible - originally from @ashleybenlove

Stoick had to design his signature for him because Hiccup just could not for the life of himself stick to the same one and it would become an issue on legal documents.

Allergic to dragon root (doesn't help with the half dragon allegations)

Guiltiest Guilt Complex to have ever guilted

Genuinely, and when I say genuinely I mean actually really, went slightly fucking insane with the whole Viggo stuff.

^ Got visual, auditory, and touch hallucinations from the severe sleep deprivation

^ Developed paranoia that fluctuated in severity

^ Got extremely irritable

^ Had at least one semi-public nervous breakdown (On the edge in the clubhouse)

Big fan of lettuce

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Cater Diamond: Woke Up Lookin’ Like This

The way that goofy diamond mascot follows Cater into his various outfits 💀

dbsjgejeje Can’t believe he’s being an beauty guru/influencer showing off makeup products and shooting a GRWM vid in his groovy… OTL

Rise and Shine!

Looking like you have it together is far different than actually having it together.

Some days—like today—Cater had trouble getting himself out of bed. He always did in the end, but with great effort, like lugging a sack of potatoes to the washroom. A splash of ice-cold water often did the trick, rousing him awake and adding a faint flush or pink to his face.

But color is a flaw. Imperfect. No pure diamond has splotches of another color tainting it.

He’d paint over his half-dead canvas with cleanser, toner, serum, and moisturizer. Skincare was less routine and more ritual for him. A special magic charm, complete with an incantation muttered to himself.

Smile already. You’re never fully dressed without it.

By the time he patted himself dry, his face managed to settle into its usual arrangement. The upward curve of his lips, a friendly sparkle set in his eyes, tangerine waves pushed back by a headband to show off the mask he wore. This was “himself”—the thinnest sliver of Cater he showed the world.

He plopped down on at the foot his bed. His phone was mounted on a tripod, and just out of camerashot were various pieces of equipment. Extra lights, reflectors—tricks to flatter him. To distract, deceive. Even the placement of the plushies on his bed had been arranged for maximum visual appeal in the eye of the camera.

Aaand… action.

The recording started.

Cater flashed a huge grin and waved to his phone. “Gooood morning, Magicam fam! How’re you doing today?”

His spectators were, of course, no one. Not now, at least. He’d have to edit this footage later, tweak and fine tune it to achieve perfection before releasing it to the public. Then he would lap up that sweet, addictive validation.

And so he donned that mask once more, playing to his imaginary audience.

“Hahah, you guys are so silly.” He playfully tossed a few of his locks. “Did you think Cay-kun woke up like this? It takes effort to look this good!”

Cater winked, pointing at his audience members. “You can do it too! I’ll walk you through my base makeup routine 🎵”

He held up a slim grey tube, his palm acting as its backstop to keep the camera focused on it. Other products were neatly lined up before him like a procession of card soldiers.

“Lately, I’ve been really gravitating to this beand new UV primer! Have you heard of it? It literally just came out this month. I got my hands on it as soon as I could and I’ve been wearing it every day since!”

Cater rattled off the benefits and uses of the primer: UV protection, dewy—not greasy (this difference was important) finish, great coverage, evening skin tone. “You can put powder on top or dab it on with a tissue over a full face of makeup and it still looks good! This is sure to go viral ⭐️”

He was in the middle of a demonstration when the knocking came. Cater startled, smearing a blob of product across one cheek.

“Aaah, shoot…!”

He scrambled for his phone, cutting off the recording. Then Cater shot up, rushing to his door while rubbing the primer into his skin.

"Coming...! Wait just a sec!" he called.

An aside, to consult his reflection in the mirror and ensure that every last bit of product had been pressed in. His skin was left supple and glowing, giving the impression of a guy that hadn't spent the last hour before drifting off doomscrolling and commenting on shallow posts. A guy that had it all together.

Cater slicked back a stray strand of hair and braced himself for his next act. The door swung open, revealing you and your school bag.

“Mornin’~! You’re up bright and early!” he chirped, casually leaning against the doorframe. “Wasn’t expecting you to be over so soon.”

“Oh—well, I wanted to see if I could catch you without your full face on.” You squinted at him. “Wow, did you really wake up looking like this?"

Cater gave a laugh that was light and effortless. "What do you think?" he asked teasingly. An expert dodging of the question--not the truth, but not quite a lie either.

You bit your lower lip, considering it. "Come on. Nobody's that perfect. Even Vil-senpai has to work hard to be the way he is."

You took a step toward him, and he backed up. One foot rested on that line dividing his room from the rest of Heartslabyul. You teetered there, as if on a tightrope. One more step, and you'd breach into his territory--his room, his most intimate place.

"... What's your secret?"

My secret?

He had many. Too many. They writhed like worms inside of him, those ugly pieces that shrank from the sunshine.

Cater turned away, plucking up another tube of product. He squeezed a dollop onto his index finger. "What's the fun in giving it away? I think..."

His arm shot out, poking you in the chin.

"... It's more fun to give chase! If you spot a white rabbit hopping around, you'd be curious about where it's going, right?"

Your reached for where he had marked you. Your fingers came away moist with a thick cream. With a sigh, you rubbed at it, the cream vanishing into your skin.

"You're impossible."

Cater smiled--perhaps for the first real time since he had woken up. "That's one impossibility! Come up with five more before breakfast and maybe I'll be nice enough to give you a hint~"

[midnite-c6]

hear me out — nam-gyu is actually soooo icky. i don’t care what anyone tells me. he’s a icky icky man. he’s so fucking mean too. he thinks of women as possessions (he’s sooo misogynistic. you can’t convince me otherwise) like what do you mean women are their own person and can control their own lives?! no…. they are possessions!

additionally, he is sooo convincing with his words — he can get anyone to trust him quite easily (especially if they’re naive) and he’s taking full advantage of that.

honestly nam-gyu probably has anyone naive trying things they were always against. he has such a way with words when it comes to getting anyone to open up or doing what he wants them to do. he'll give them everything they need to get them to say yes even if it means making promises he doesn't even plan to keep or fulfill.

also, no one can convince me otherwise that this man doesn’t have a thing for trad wives. he definitely likes the idea of codependency and the fact that someone clings to him like a second skin (but let’s be honest, he definitely doesn’t make it out to seem like he likes it — it’s always constant degradation from him: “stupid bitch, can’t ever do anything for yourself, huh? i have to do everything for you”). also likes the idea of baby trapping, because you can’t leave him ♡ but 100% does not like kids.

i also can see him fetishizes the FUCK out of lesbians (once again… this man is ICKY) and i definitely feel like if he was the type to get into a relationship with someone who is bisexual (or closeted lesbian. specifically if he coerces them) he would exploit the shit out of it. bro definitely has a premium subscription to ph. constantly doom scrolling to find something he hasn’t watched yet (specifically lesbians or threesomes (two girls, one guy) it’s definitely one of his biggest fantasies. he is soo gross ♡)

he would probably likes giving some naive, lightweight (never done drugs before) drugs that he knows they wouldn’t be able to handle just so he they can take advantage.

I AM GOING INSANEEEE. i am clawing and gnawing at the bars of my enclosure.

warnings: 18+, DARK content, dubcon, baby trapping

bro i am so sorry i haven't let this out to the public sooner, this is so good and factual fr 💔 like this guy is an misogynistic incel honestly, idfc what anyone else says, u literally can see it in the show how he treats se-mi. he's a meanie.

THE PH SUBSCRIPTION IS SO REAL. also, forces or not, makes u watch porn with him, the disgusting ones like heavy bondage/bdsm, prolly whilst sticking a wand vibrator on ur clit in a setting that's intense BUT wont make u cum so its pure torture..

guys has anyone done se-mi x reader x nam-gyu ? like hello? hello????? ITS RIGHT THERE prolly would watch u & se-mi whilst he's cucking himself. or he's right in the middle of the action, both ur pussies rubbing on his dick.

also, i love nam-gyu corruption kink, to someone whos absolutely clean, pure, law abiding citizen, prolly doesnt even know half of the kinks or stuff u see in pornhub, BUT THAT'S WHY NAM-GYU EXISTS!! to teach you allat, to corrupt u :^

i just dont feel like hes a good person at all, in smut mindset, and in fr the character, hes those toxic bfs who's only "strong" cuz u're just a lil bit weaker than him. and if u try to leave, nuh-uh, u can't, u wanted a child to begin with right?

"fuck you mean, 'i'm leaving you'? bitch please," he scolds, pumping another load inside- straight to your womb, "you wanna be a single mom?" you shake your head immediately, you were on birth control.. but maybe not... oh no! "then don't bullshit me with saying you're 'leaving me'... you know you love me." let's just hope he'll be a good dad... (⁠ ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠)⁠♡

if anyone needs a fluffy lovey namgyu smut this aint the place.. jk, i would prolly post one too heheh <3 also, now i wanna make a full on incel!nam-gyu x reader smut mannn

[bloodfiendarling]

i was so fuckin . angry and sick and decided to take it out on gallagher . im so sorry my darling .. i was SEETHING . < : (

drabble

wc — ~350

pairing — reader x gallagher

contains — dom top reader , sub bottom char , afab gallagher , mtf reader , hate sex ( ? more like angry sex idk ) , chocking ( with his tie ) , degrading , semi public ( in his closed bar ) , dubcon , headlock

this shit is written like a hentai hep me

the bartender clawed at the wooden counter, one hand desperately itching onto the red-pink tie tightly secured on his neck as you pulled and pulled tighter — constructing his oxygen, only to let go when you could tell he was about to pass out. your cock slamming into his sloppy cunt, letting slick drip down onto his thighs and the floor below.

“ghnK – haa .. can'hh – uhg..”

“can’t breathe?” you mock, loosening the tie just enough for him to breathe in some air, then tightening it right back. the action made his pussy clamp down hungrily on your cock — his eyes rolling and back arching. his legs felt like they were about to give in..

choked out moans spilled out of his pretty lips, his hair was a mess. but his hips couldn’t help and meet your thrusts like a desperate little whore.

you tugged hard, leaning down right into his ear. “you’re so fuckin’ wet — like cheap slut. do you see yourself right now?” gallagher couldn’t even string out a proper response. his head was complete mush — nothing in that brain except the hard thrusts of your cock into his hole.

finally — you untie it. letting his head hang low. the bartender took heavy, shaky breaths as he was finally able to breathe properly in the past hour. his legs shaking, cunt still greedily sucking in your cock. only for you to grab a fistful of his hair and slam his head down onto the table. hooking an arm on his neck.

— and then, squeeze.

“hhaghcK—?!” his airways were closed off again. far harder than his tie — he could only paw at the arm around his neck, brain too fucked out to actually fight back.

he’s gonna die. he’s gonna fucking die. he can’t —

he felt your arm loosen, just a little bit of relief washing over him — till he felt your hot cum spilling into him. coating his gummy walls with your seed. the feeling made him see stars. feeling himself cum as it rushed inside of him.

you bit the back of his neck, hard — enough to draw some blood as you came deep and hard into him. “you’re like a dumb bitch in heat, you know that, right?”

hsr m . list ♡

[that-dumb-moth]

Okay, so, fucking PSA. Please read if you're interested in helping either Robert Kurvitz, the Disco Elysium team, or the Internet Archive:

DO NOT CLAIM THAT KURVITZ UPLOADED A COPY OF DISCO ELISYUM ON THE INTERNET ARCHIVE, REPORT THE UPLOAD, PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD

Internet Archive:

I'm a person that enjoys community projects like the Internet Archive. They hold crucial positions in public knowledge and do not deserve to be labeled "piracy dens" and do not deserve the legal difficulties associated. By sharing copies of software whose copyright holders still actually care instead of reporting them, you are putting the Internet Archive at risk. Once the Internet Archive gets sued into oblivion, you will no longer have the wayback machine, thousands of copies of scans of rare books and boxes will be lost, and endless piles of abandonware trapped in long outdated storage mediums and standards will no longer be used again. And even worse, once corporations learn that legal pressure is enough to take out public knowledge, they will press down hard on services like the ones Wikimedia offers (that includes wikipedia if you're unaware). Say goodbye to the crowdsourced knowledge of old, and hello to corporate refined knowledge, likely alot of which is AI generated.

Robert Kurvitz

Robert Kurvitz has a very poor relationship with ZA/UM and thus, it doesn't take long to tie a motive to him publishing pirated copies of DE. And as he's the one with the motive and not Internet Archive, it's entirely possible legal action could be pointed at Kurvitz instead or worse, also. And that's where the problem occurs... people keep claiming the file was uploaded by Kurvitz himself. But that's a claim made by the uninformed. The way the Internet Archive works is that each file uploaded is primarily credited to their original authors with credit to the uploader placed to the side. However, people sharing the file are claiming that, due to a misunderstanding, Kurvitz is the one who uploaded the file. When in reality, it was a person using a pseudonym. This simple mistake can undoubtedly prove disastrous.

The DE Team

There's no doubt that the team behind DE were immensely fucked over. And we truly need to fight against that scumbaggery. So, how do you support the DE team? First off, don't pay for DE. And if you're not willing to go to the greynet, just don't fucking play the game. I'm sorry, but hosting pirated games on honest sites like the IA just causes more trouble than needed. Also, please, do not share links to pirated copies and more importantly, don't try claiming the devs endorse piracy. Even if they do. Corporations are little shits that like to sue you over everything.

I don't know if any of that makes any sense. But thank you anyways for reading this.

[jungwnies]

tamed - max verstappen (5/4 - epilogue)

୨ৎ : pairing : max verstappen x fem!reader ୨ৎ : synopsis : as whispers in the paddock shift from max verstappen's on-track antics to his unexpected romance with you

୨ৎ : genre : romance, angst, humor ୨ৎ : tws : media scrutiny, public attention, workplace romance, mentions of temper, light teasing ୨ৎ : wc : 1382

part one | part two | part three | part four | epilogue

fast forward a few months, and the paddock buzzed with a very different kind of speculation. the whispers about max’s fiery temper and on-track spats had been replaced with hushed chatter about the two of you. the sharp-edged world of formula 1 had softened ever so slightly, now crackling with curiosity about the driver who seemed to be transforming right before everyone’s eyes.

you and max had settled into this new dynamic with a surprising, almost natural ease. while there were still plenty of playful digs and sarcastic retorts, they were now wrapped in an undeniable intimacy—a bond forged through both the chaos of the paddock and the quiet moments that only the two of you shared.

the other drivers had taken notice too. daniel ricciardo, as mischievous as ever, would throw you exaggerated winks and nudge max with an elbow whenever you passed by. charles leclerc, ever the gentleman, always made sure you had the best seat in the hospitality suite, even if max tried to grumble about it. and even lando norris, the king of cheek, had toned down his teasing just enough to drop the occasional sincere compliment—though, true to form, it was usually followed with a grin and a sly, “don’t tell max.”

later that evening, after the paddock chaos had dwindled, max invited you to join him for a walk along the marina. the sun was dipping low on the horizon, painting the water in shades of gold and orange, and a soft breeze carried the scent of the sea. you thought nothing of it at first—max often liked to escape the buzz of formula 1 when he could. but as the two of you wandered past the quiet rows of yachts, his usual confidence seemed… off.

he kept stealing glances at you, his hands buried deep in his pockets, and his usual sharp wit was replaced with uncharacteristic silence. finally, you decided to break it.

“alright, verstappen,” you teased, nudging him lightly. “you’re being weird. what’s going on?”

max froze mid-step, his face instantly flushing a soft pink. “weird? i’m not being weird,” he said quickly, his voice jumping an octave. “you’re weird.”

you raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms. “really? that’s the best you’ve got?”

he groaned, muttering something in dutch under his breath before turning to you with a determined—albeit slightly panicked—look. “okay, fine. i… i need to say something.”

you tilted your head, fighting back a grin. “go on.”

max looked out at the water, as though hoping the answer to his internal struggle would magically appear in the waves. he then turned back to you, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. “so, uh, you know how you… um… exist?”

you blinked, stifling a laugh. “how i exist?”

“yes! like, you’re here, and you’re… you, and i’m…” he gestured vaguely to himself, his face now beet red. “me. and, uh, that’s good. i mean, it’s great. you’re great.”

you bit your lip to stop yourself from laughing outright. “wow, max. that’s… really something. please, continue.”

he groaned again, raking a hand through his hair. “okay, look. what i’m trying to say is—ugh, why is this so hard?” he stopped walking and turned fully to face you, his hands now animated as he stumbled through his next words. “i like you, alright? not in a ‘you’re my pr manager and keep me from saying stupid stuff in interviews’ way. like, i actually like you. like, in a ‘let’s do non-work things together, and i’ll pay for dinner, and maybe we kiss at the end’ kind of way.”

you stared at him, your lips twitching as you tried not to burst into laughter. “non-work things, huh? very romantic.”

“i’m serious!” he blurted, his hands flying up. “i like you, and i want to take you out. on a date. like a real one. with food. and wine, if you’re into that. or beer. or water, whatever you want!”

by now, you couldn’t hold it in anymore. a laugh escaped you, and max’s face somehow turned even redder.

“stop laughing!” he said, though there was a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “i’m trying here!”

“i’m sorry,” you managed between giggles. “it’s just… max, that was the most chaotic confession i’ve ever heard.”

he sighed, shaking his head but laughing softly too. “yeah, well, you make me nervous, okay? are you happy now?”

your laughter faded, replaced by a warm, affectionate smile. “max, you don’t have to be nervous around me. and for the record…” you stepped closer, your voice softening. “i like you too.”

his eyes widened slightly, the nervous energy melting away as a slow, relieved smile spread across his face. “you do?”

you nodded, biting your lip to keep from grinning too wide. “i do. but i do have one condition.”

“name it,” he said immediately.

“you’re not allowed to say ‘non-work things’ on our date. ever again.”

max chuckled, finally relaxing as he reached out to take your hand. “deal. but for the record, you’re still weird.”

you rolled your eyes, squeezing his hand as the two of you began walking again. “yeah, yeah. says the guy who just admitted he’s terrified of asking someone out.”

“not terrified,” he corrected with a smirk. “just… bad at it.”

...

one afternoon in monaco, the two of you wandered through the paddock hand in hand, the sun warm on your skin. max glanced down at you, a rare softness in his eyes.

"you know," max said, squeezing your hand gently, "i never thought i'd enjoy having my personal life plastered all over the media."

you laughed, bumping his shoulder playfully. "well, you have me to thank for that. i'm a pr genius, after all."

he chuckled, pulling you closer. "that you are. but it's more than that, y/n. it's… easy with you. even with all the cameras and the gossip, it just feels… right."

you leaned into him, a warmth spreading through you that had nothing to do with the mediterranean sun. "it feels right with you too, max."

as you continued your stroll, you encountered a group of journalists, their cameras clicking and questions flying.

"max, y/n," one reporter called out, "how does it feel to be formula 1's newest power couple?"

max, with a mischievous glint in his eyes, pulled you closer and replied, "well, she hasn't crashed my car yet, so i'd say it's going pretty well."

you rolled your eyes, but you couldn't help but laugh. "very funny, max."

another reporter asked, "y/n, how do you handle max's temper?"

you smiled, glancing up at him with a playful smirk. "let's just say i have my ways of keeping him in line."

max feigned a look of indignation. "hey, i resent that!"

the reporters laughed, scribbling down notes and snapping photos. you and max, comfortable in the spotlight, played along, your banter a mix of genuine affection and playful teasing.

later that evening, as you sat on the balcony of your hotel room, overlooking the sparkling harbor, max turned to you with a soft smile.

"you know," he said, his voice low and sincere, "i never thought i'd find someone who could handle me, who could challenge me, who could make me laugh… and who could tolerate my terrible jokes."

you laughed, leaning your head against his shoulder. "well, you're lucky i have a soft spot for grumpy drivers with questionable humor."

he pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you in a warm embrace. "i'm the lucky one, y/n. i never thought i'd find someone like you."

you looked up at him, your heart overflowing with love and happiness. "and i never thought i'd fall for someone like you, max verstappen."

he leaned down and kissed you, a soft, lingering kiss that spoke volumes.

as you stood there, bathed in the golden light of the setting sun, you knew that this was more than just a fleeting romance. this was a love story built on mutual respect, playful banter, and a shared passion for life, both on and off the track. and as the formula 1 circus continued its whirlwind journey around the world, you and max would face it together, hand in hand, ready to take on whatever challenges came your way.

taglist: @residentdemonhunter , @nctislifue , @kqliie , @loveitwhenhelies , @edgyficuselastica , @chirasama , @widow-cevans , @comicalivy comment to be added

© 2024 jungwnies | All rights reserved. Do not repost, plagiarize, or translate.

[suzukiblu]

First 1k of the 5k I promised y'all as a thank-you for helping me out with that car insurance bill behind the cut; “YJ packs up and gets pupped”. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

He’d cry a lot harder, probably, but–no, he wouldn’t mind. Like . . . literally zero percent would he mind . . . mind anyone doing that for him. Even if Red Tornado only smells like metal and wires and machinery and, like, a little bit of clumsy scenting from Traya and maybe an even littler, subtle bit of it from, like–Kathy . . . 

Kon feels like an asshole for thinking it, but a dude who is a literal machine and doesn’t even have a designation or pheromones having, like–having even estranged packmates when he doesn’t even . . . when he’s never actually . . . 

Even in Hawaii, he didn’t have a pack. Like–Rex and Roxy had their family pack, and Tana had her family pack, and Dubbilex is a null and totally uninterested in packing up with anybody, which sometimes some shitty part of Kon’s wondered if that’s, like–if that’s why Cadmus picked Dubbilex to be his stupid fake “chaperone” or . . . whatever. Because Dubbilex–Dubbilex wouldn’t ever get too–too– 

Kon’s pretty fucking positive that Dubbilex doesn’t really think of him the way he’s sometimes wished the guy would either. And Roxy–Roxy’s the closest thing he’s ever had to a sibling unless he counts Match, who literally thinks he’s just a shitty prototype and nothing else, but she wasn’t–she wasn’t his pack sibling or anything like that. And even if she had been, he doesn’t even know where she is now; hasn’t even seen her in months. More months than he even actually remembers it being, since he spent a real significant portion of that time, like–literally out of his mind on gross fucked-up amnesia drugs that made him literally feral, so . . . 

And it’s not like it’s not, like–public, that he’s back and currently working for Cadmus and rolling with Young Justice and all that. If Roxy or Tana or anybody wanted to find him . . . they could find him, if they wanted to. 

But they haven’t. 

He misses Hawaii so bad right now. Like . . . all the time, really. But especially right now. 

“Then I will do it,” Red Tornado says. It sounds the same exact way he just said it, like he’s just replaying a recording or something. Like he saved a copy of it the first time, because he was already planning to say it again. 

Kon is definitely gonna be mortified about this later, he thinks as he scrubs the sleeve of his jacket across his wet eyes. 

“Okay,” he manages. “Uh–okay. Uh. Thanks.” 

He–he could use more stuff to nest with, definitely, and if Red Tornado brings it he won’t have to leave his nest for it, and like . . . the food and drinks or whatever wouldn’t hurt either, obviously. He didn’t think to get anything like that ready while he was distracted looking for stuff with everybody’s scents to nest with and when the Super-Cycle offered him a nesting pit to just–when the Super-Cycle made him a nesting pit in itself to use–well, like. Then he hadn’t really cared, after that. Like . . . that had not been a thing he was worried about, after that. So . . . so if Red Tornado doesn’t mind getting him some of that stuff before he goes . . . wherever he goes to, like, hang out when he’s on his own, well . . . like, that’d be . . . that’d be . . . 

Nice, Kon admits to himself, though that’s embarrassing to think even when he’s already all overemotional and weird anyway. 

But–but it would be. Nobody’s . . . nobody’s gonna come “attend” him, or even just . . . just be here with him, so . . . so it’d be nice, if Red Tornado would . . . would get him a couple things, and he could . . . could pretend like . . . like somebody–like he’d had somebody who– 

Red Tornado he guesses does count as somebody who’d, like, “attend” him a little, but like . . . not like a packmate would. Like . . . in a pack, somebody does . . . “attend” people who’re presenting in it. Somebody–stays, at least. 

Kon guesses the Super-Cycle’s technically volunteered to do that, so like . . . so that’s already better than he thought he was gonna get. And he did find everybody’s scents–or at least, almos everybody’s scents and Robin’s blockers–so if Red Tornado gets him more stuff to nest with too . . . 

That’s–definitely better than he thought he was gonna get, yeah. 

“Is there anyone I will need to make sure the security measure will allow entry to the base?” Red Tornado asks, and Kon–startles, a little. 

“Uh–what?” he asks stupidly, not understanding what he means. What’s . . . ? 

Red Tornado tilts his head, very slightly. 

“To attend to you,” he says. “Did you invite anyone without prior security clearance, or are they a member of the team?” 

“I–they’ve got packs,” Kon says reflexively, too confused to bite it back. But . . . “Like . . . they’ve all got–packs. And, like–school and shit, anyway. I wouldn’t . . . I wouldn’t bug ‘em with this.” 

He doesn’t even know if . . . like, why even would they come, if he actually . . . 

Red Tornado’s expression doesn’t change, obviously. Like, his expression is literally physically incapable of changing. He doesn’t even adjust the tilt of his head or shift his center of balance or–anything at all, really. Doesn’t even make that electric humming fridge-compressor sound again. 

Kon suddenly feels like something about him just changed, though. 

“I see,” Red Tornado says. “Who will I need to provide security clearance for, then?” 

“Um,” Kon says, and tries not to cringe. “You–don’t. It’s–fine. Like, I don’t–it’s fine. I didn’t, like . . . call anybody, or anything. I’m just gonna, you know–crash for a day or two, and then like, I’ll put everything away and run the scent-scrubbers and everything. That’s, like–that’s all. I don’t need, like . . . ‘attended’, or whatever. Like–I’m not gonna bother anybody with that.” 

Red Tornado’s just looking at him with the exact same expression, but it still feels like something’s changed.

[hees-mine]

Library - L. Heeseung

Pairing: heeseung X fem reader!

Warnings: smut, handjob, public masturbation, cum eating, cursing.

WC: 2k+

-

Heeseung knew what he was doing wasn’t the best idea, probably his worst idea to date.

Actually, scratch that. His idea was borderline an offense, one he could legally get taken to jail for, but hear him out.

He was in the public library, and he knew it sounded crazy, but he was in the back by himself. The librarian was nowhere in sight, and the cameras were probably not getting checked, so who would know?

Who would know if he just slipped his hand down his pants and got off quickly?

Okay, maybe someone might know cause, sadly, there was one other person inside the library a decent amount of seats away, but it was still pretty risky.

He could just go to the bathroom, but what if it was occupied by someone else?

He could also leave, but his home was more than ten minutes away, and he didn’t have that much time to wait when his cock was literally throbbing in his pants.

He looked around, not so discreetly, making sure no one saw him as he brushed over the bulge in his khaki pants.

He rested his hand on the table, toying with the edge of the book he was reading, pretending like he was gripping the outline of his ever-growing hard-on.

Biting his lip, his hooded eyes ran over the words on the page in front of him, but he couldn’t comprehend a thing, not right now when his heart was pumping with adrenaline and his cock was getting harder every second.

The light touch did wonders to relieve some of that tension, but he needed more. He couldn’t take this for much longer. He didn’t even know why he felt like this in the afternoon at a library, nonetheless, but he was here now, as hard as a rock needing a release and quickly.

-

read full fic on my Patreon here

[ghostgirl-22]

Idk why I did this. But since I wrote it yall have to see it (if you choose to read it of course!). Blame my beloved agegap!anon I fear <3

CW: 18+, NSFW, AGE GAP, teacher/student, power dynamics, semi public sex, jealousy, mild possessiveness, super mild D/s

—-

Original.

Pt 2.

Art can’t really help himself. If he could stop he definitely would… Maybe. He wasn’t a virgin before he had sex with his tennis coach, Patrick Zweig. He’d just never been with a boy before. Now that he’s done it, and done it, and. done. it. All over Patrick’s house. He feels a little more confident in his sexuality. And it’s weird. Because now he’s suddenly getting even more attention.

He’s not a slut. Not really. He doesn’t always give it up. But he likes to tease. And he likes the attention.

A lot.

Probably what he likes even more than the attention is the way it seems to break away at Patrick's ever present cool and calm demeanor.

Art was barely flirting, honestly. Kneeling on Chase Roberts feet so he could do sit-ups. Chase has these really pretty brown eyes that sparkle in the sunlight, and Art wasn’t really straddling him, he was just crawling between his legs to get a closer look. He didn’t expect Chase to sit up and kiss him. Or the other boys to tease and jeer when Chase did it. Chase is smirking at him and Art shoves him back down on his back, licking his lips. “You’re such a freak.”

Chase laughs. ”You can’t blame me for wanting a little taste pretty boy.” Art sits up properly, when he hears Patrick blow his whistle. Conditioned for it by now. Patrick’s looking at him but it’s only for a second before he’s yelling at everyone.

“Enough messing around,” he shouts, “since we’re all in a silly mood without the silly skills to accompany it, we’re all doing fucking drills. He says. “Come on…get up. Line up behind the baseline, middle court. Roberts in front.”

Everyone gets up. Patrick bends over leaning in to whisper in his assistant coach, Meg’s ear. His little purple shorts, forming to his ass, riding up so Art can see more of his muscular thighs. Thighs Art has sat on, that he’s felt hot and warm beneath him while taking the full length of Patrick’s cock. He never felt more grown up. He bites his tongue trying not to get hard.

Coach Meg gets up and pulls on her baseball cap. “Okay everyone we’re doing baseline, mid court, center shots.” She shouts. “For every ball you miss or hit out of bounds you run a lap and get back in line.”

There’s some irritated mumbling as Art gets in line but no one gets too loud for fear it will get worse.

“Donaldson, come with me,” Patrick says. Grabbing his clip board and walking towards the locker rooms. Art looks around and some of his teammates are smirking. Roberts makes a kissy face at him.

“I hope you’re all paying attention,” Coach Meg says, whacking Tyson Wahler with her clipboard when he mimics a sloppy make out. Art grins and hurries to catch up with Patrick.

Art is breathless when they get into the facilities building. “Am I in trouble, coach? Art asks playfully, but Patrick doesn’t really give him anything. Just keeps up his breakneck walking pace.

He approaches his office and pulls open the door, holding it for Art. Art walks in and looks around. He’s probably only been in here once, with a teammate to ask about switching doubles partners because they were both left handed.

Art turns back around to face him. “So what’s the big—“

Patrick covers him mouth and walks him backwards up against the closed office door. “Mm Donaldson, you talk too much.” He’s all in Art’s face. Art’s heart rate speeds up quickly, blood furiously rushing to his cock. “Did you fuck him?”

Art raises his eyebrows.

“You can nod, yes or no. Did you and Roberts fuck?”

Art shakes his head.

“Did you fuck any other boys since the weekend?”

Art shakes his head again. He’s actually falling apart for how fucking hot this feels. Patrick going insane over a little kiss. He licks at Patrick’s palm just to get a taste of him.

Patrick presses his forehead against the wall next to him. “Mm…you have to fucking stop.” He whines and pulls his hand off of Art’s mouth.

“Did you fuck your girlfriend since the weekend?” Art says, grinning as he tries to catch his breath and settle down.

He can’t settle down.

Patrick pushes up against him and he can feel. Fuck. He can feel it. “You’re such a fucking brat,” Patrick whispers in his ear.

“And you’re a pervert, all over me and I’m barely out of high school.” Art breathes as Patrick’s rubbing up against him. “Won’t even let me fuck a boy my own age.”

“No one your age knows how to do it properly,” Patrick whispers.

Art starts sucking kisses into his throat.

“You… fuck… you know you make me crazy. Sitting on my court, showing off that body, crawling on boys laps and letting them… oh fuck it…“ Patrick grips Art by the waist, taking his mouth in a bruising kisses, all while walking him up against the desk and bending him over. Art is pushing back on him while he’s rummaging in his desk drawer. He pulls out a condom and then he’s pumping lotion out to use as lubricant. Art feels his mouth watering. As hot as he was earlier he’s going insane now.

“I knew you’d be this fucking tight still,” Patrick groans as he’s filling Art, big hand covering his mouth to keep him quiet. Or muffled at least. Art licking, talking, moaning against his palm. Fucking in Patrick’s office while the rest of the team is running around the court. Patrick, so frantic and desperate to claim him. Ramming his prostate over and over and over till Art is spilling all over the desk, muscles trembling, head dizzy. God. He can’t believe it took him so long to start. It feels so good getting full on Patrick’s cock. Art wants it every fucking day.

“Holy shit,” Patrick sighs as he’s tying off the condom and easing his shorts back up.

Art’s all dizzy and in love with him. And now he smells a lot like cherry almond lotion.

Patrick settles on his desk chair, manspreading as he pulls out his pack of cigarettes. “I shouldn’t be doing this. Fuck. I’m gonna get caught and get fucking fired.”

“Have you ever done it with a player before?” Art asks, lightly.

“Are you kidding? I’ve done fucked up shit before. I’ve done stupid shit before, but never anything this stupid and fucked up.”

Art sits on the desk, he’s all sore and it feels so good he wiggles just to feel the ache and he puts his foot between Patrick’s thighs.

“If you give me your number, I’ll do whatever you want. I won’t fuck anyone else,” Art says.

Patrick takes a deep breath and pops a cigarette in his mouth before playing with Art’s shoe laces. He then takes the cigarette out of his mouth like he’s just realized he’s still inside. “No you’re a kid. You’re gonna be calling me and texting me at insane hours asking for things that I’m gonna fucking do because I have no self control. And I’m gonna end up seeing them blown up on a board in front of the school ethics committee.”

”I won’t say anything bad. I swear.” Art says. “If I’m horny I’ll just send you an eggplant emoji. Like 39 times. Isn’t that how old you are? Or is it one for good luck?”

Patrick snorts. “Get up and go back to practice, you little shit. And tell Megan we were in here talking about that recruiter that was here last week.”

Art shrugs and pushes himself off of the desk. “Can you come with me?”

“I’ll be there in 5 minutes… I promise.”

Art sighs and lingers to the point where Patrick just smiles. “Fine, come on. You get so fucking clingy after.”

“No I don't," Art says, defensive and a little warm because it’s true… Art does want to be around him. Though he doesn’t think clingy is the word.

Patrick straightens his office and Arts hair and checks himself in the mirror before they leave. He lights up as soon as they get outside. Art falls into lock step with him. “Try to relax— cause as soon as we get up there, you’re not sitting around me, it’s gonna be laps. And no more fucking kissing Roberts or anyone else.”

“I’ll try not to,” Art says grinning, knowing that if this is his punishment he might just kiss everyone on the team.

(Btw…Other anon with the brilliant ask in this au I can’t resist — I’m totally coming to that! A thousand percent! Trust!)

[see-arcane]

I find it so hilarious when people say things like "a dracula or a nosferatu". Not just because Dracula is just a person's name, but because Dracula himself is a nosferatu. he is very much one of thoseferatus. it is a significant thing that he is being called.

Also when people will call Orlok "Nosferatu" as if it's his actual first name, while calling vampires "Draculas" as if it's a category. The opposite of this actually applies. incredible.

At this point, it's like 'Photoshop' or 'Google.' Yes, those words once belonged strictly to One Specific Thing, but it got dissolved in the acid of public use and linguistic transmutation, so now the meanings have stretched.

Dracula = Count Dracula, the villain from Bram Stoker's novel, Dracula.

Draculas = Refers to various portrayals of Dracula across media.

draculas = Referring to characters who are stamped with the iconic traits of Count Dracula. Creepy nobility, antiquated language, lives in a castle or otherwise ominously gothic ruin, maybe wants to suck your blood and add some pretty people to their undead legion. Not even necessarily a vampire! Could just be some weirdo with the Aesthetics.

Nosferatu = Count Orlok, the one who feratu'd so hard he set the standard and got a Capitalized Title about it. Sure, Dracula is nosferatu, as many a vampire might be. But Orlok is Nosferatu of F. W. Murnau's Nosferatu.

Thoseferatu = Refers to various portrayals of Count Orlok across media.

thoseferatu = Referring to characters resembling Count Orlok. Awkard undead rat men, act like a stick bug or an imposing lord by turns, Stares At You, can do impressive shadow tricks, does not know and does not want to know how consent works prior to giving out hickeys and biting tiddies. Again, it need not be literal undead here. The vibes apply.

[andre-and-cal]

IK IT'S A A WEEK ISH AWAY BUT CALDRE VALENTINE'S HCS⁉️😘

YESSS I wanted to do Caldre Valentine’s Day headcanons so bad !! Hope you enjoy! :3

Caldre Valentine’s Day Headcanons

At first, Andre thought that the whole concept of Valentine’s Day was stupid. Something he never understood was why some couples only showed appreciation for someone they cared about on one unnecessarily flamboyant day rather than doing so every day. While he stands by an unintentionally tender message, he never really did anything for Valentine’s Day. And neither did Cal. However, during their sophomore year, the teen wanted to make something for Andre, wanted to express his appreciation toward him. Calvin ended up giving him a small photo collage— which he and his parents had designed— of the Army of Two, from their middle school years up until then. With Andre having nothing prepared for him, it left him feeling guilty. As a last-minute gift, Andre decided to lend Cal one of his old switchblades, which he’d painted on. He wanted Calvin to keep it permanently.

The first time Cal asked Andre to be his Valentine, Andre’s heart jumped out of his chest. He’d choked out a simple, “Sure,” and tried to act all nonchalant and casual about it. But his leg kept bouncing up and down— they were in Cal’s bedroom at the time, sitting together and watching Beavis and Butthead. Luckily, Cal didn’t even really notice his overly-conscious behavior.

Ever since, Cal will ask Andre if he wants to be his Valentine, with a witty grin spread across his face. For which, Andre will accept the invitation seriously, but then snicker— he attempts to act like it isn’t serious, as if being Cal’s Valentine is just such a silly thing. But clearly, it is not, with how Andre now indulges himself in some Valentine’s Day traditions.

Following, when Valentine’s Day came around during their junior year, Andre and Cal did start to be a little more receptive toward each other in terms of gift-giving. Andre buys Calvin items that he’s heard him talk about or mention before— like maybe a Misfits album on CD, or a cool poster from a TV show Cal likes. Often, Calvin creates cards and handmade trinkets for Andre, since Andre doesn’t usually ask for much aside from snacks and a bag of chocolate caramel candy bars. Andre is an absolute sucker for chocolate caramel, and Calvin knows this, so when he has no money, he’ll ask his parents to purchase a bag of them for the teen. In addition, when he does have some cash in his pocket, he’ll buy them for Andre. One year, Cal had his little sister make matching bead bracelets for him and Andre— although, the two teenagers don’t wear them in public. Instead, they keep them protectively stored in their bedrooms.

Calvin will stay up late working on little makeshift Valentine’s Day cards for Andre, often putting off dinner so he can work on the cards. He writes poems for him, too !! With Cal being a bit of a teenage poet, his poems aren’t perfect, but they’re lovely enough for Andre. Cal wants to impress Andre so badly, and even though his writing is generally more on the dark and moody side, with sappy topics not necessarily being Cal’s forte, he tries hard to make sure his poems for Andre are lovey-dovey. He wants the other boy to feel good while reading them.

But most of all, they go out together... as usual, really. But when they do, it feels a little different; the atmosphere feels less “needed” and more “wanted”. To elaborate, both boys feel relaxed when they go out together. It feels more like an actual date, less like a mission— which, their private outings do essentially serve as unspoken dates. Especially during “Valentine’s season” as Cal calls it. And by the end of the day, Cal ends up in Andre’s arms, whether at his own house or at Andre’s house.

[freezing-fire]

Hot take but I don't like how the fandom (mostly twitter) is so afraid of going into yaoi tropes that they start grossly mischaracterizing Viktor into this aggressive rude dom who insults and hurts Jayce on purpose.... Which is just,, the opposite of how he is? Sure he might be confident, but he is confident in his INTELLECT, not in himself as a person. Like remember that this is a guy who canonically pukes when faced with public speaking and is soft spoken and never raises his voice. Not to mention that a big part of his season 2 arc is rooted in internalized ableism. And even in his fight with Jayce he's not actively trying to hurt him more just stop him from fighting back and dodging his attacks so he can converse, he definitely could have severely injured jayce if he wanted, and he never insults Jayce. Also there's a conversation to be had about how the fandom infantalizes and dumbs down Jayce, you know, an actual genius scientist, but that's for another post.

Literally WHAT is up with the fanon of Viktor being this dominant asshole top and Jayce being a pathetic submissive dog boy for him who can't even think for himself- congratulations! You just reinvented the gross yaoi trope except you switched the body types, how progressive of you! Want a medal?

Like idk maybe try... Characterizing them how they are?? Their ACTUAL personalities don't fall into the yaoi tropes because they are complex personalities so why do you feel the need to entirely rewrite them to fit that trope but in the reverse manner?

[nordickies]

do you have any headcanons about ladonia?

(I can make a list to make it easier?):

- favorite food made by Sweden

- his favorite uncle (and why)

- favorite activity that's not screen time

- what's his dynamic with Sealand like?

Thank you, anon. That will be helpful <3 I'm sure there'd be more but these are the ones that first came to mind

I'm still debating his human name but something popular in Sweden in the 1990s would probably be fitting

Physically I like depicting him as 4-5 years old, he's practically a baby in immortal years after all

Ladonia's favorite food is meatballs with mashed potatoes—a staple among Swedish children. But he doesn't say no to makaroner or bolognese

His favorite uncle is Denmark, partly due to his nearby presence but also his fun, easygoing personality. He gets along with children

He loves building and constructing with blocks and Lego

While he's not particularly active or sporty, he enjoys climbing - especially since the art installations (Nimis) hidden in the woods near his place are open for the public to explore

Ladonia also enjoys drawing and creating art. I could see him being a bit theatrical, too

Playing board games with him is a bit disappointing because he doesn't really comprehend the concepts of rules. Sometimes he even makes up his own on the spot whenever he gets bored

When he's focused on his devices or projects, he can go completely nonverbal

He has a habit of sitting in the strangest positions—ones that look terribly uncomfortable but somehow feel perfectly natural to him

He's very curious but a quick learner - but rather than asking questions, he tries to understand and find answers himself. But sometimes this means his understanding of concepts is just plain wrong and others have to correct him (or Sealand makes fun of him)

Ladonia hates to not be included. He wants to do whatever Sealand is doing, even if it's too advanced for him

He has a little treehouse in the nearby woods—though "house" might be a generous term. It’s more of a wobbly platform wedged into an old tree

As a 90s kid, Pokémon is important to him. He has a collection of Pokémon cards but he has never played the actual game by the rules

He and Sealand bicker like most siblings do, but despite their strong personalities and willpower, they share a close and loving bond. They argue a lot, usually over silly things like who gets the specific drinking cup or whose turn it is to pick a TV show. Despite the bickering, they can go from fighting to laughing in minutes, like nothing ever happened

Ladonia and Sealand have weird inside jokes and made-up words that no one else understands

Much to Sweden's disappointment, Ladonia would probably speak Skånska to some degree

[cvrnelians]

novacane - pt. I

dark!Bucky Barnes x reader: Bucky is the ideal boyfriend, until he isn’t. He doesn’t mean to scare you, but sometimes he just can’t control himself. There is no other option for you but to find a way out; if you can, that is. Because you are determined to make this your story—not his.

Warnings: domestic violence, emotional manipulation, stalking, non-con elements, 18+ only.

SERIES MASTERLIST

“Sweetheart, I’m sorry! Alright? Please let me see you. Please just open the door.”

You had locked yourself in the bathroom. Whether you were actually keeping him out or not wasn’t hard to guess. You knew he was more than capable of knocking down the door.

There were arguably many things in your life that had snowballed into something you didn’t know how to handle. Your relationship with Bucky was one such thing. You hadn’t expected it to even get off the ground, nor did you expect it to evolve into engagement territory. 

You had only known him for six months. 

Things were moving fast—too fast, so fast you began to feel woozy. Bucky was, as expected, old fashioned. He wanted to get married, start a family. And he wanted it now. As such, things progressed rather quickly. There were red flags. Lots of them. Little signs here and there that this wasn’t the right person for anyone, much less the right person for you.

He was demanding, controlling, smothering. But he was also kind, caring, honest. Authentic. Real. Bucky made you feel understood, more than everyone. More than anyone. He was special to you.

He was special to you, and he knew it.

“Angel, please. Open up.”

He began to knock on the door, or more accurately, slam on it. The doorframe began to shake. It was always the same with Bucky. He didn’t want to scare you, not at first. But he ultimately couldn’t control himself. He always managed to do so when all was said and done.

Not just scare you. Terrify you.

“You have fun tonight,” he had said pointedly, after you had broken up with him. You had chosen to do so in a well-lit, public place, at a party your best friend was throwing. You’d run it by her beforehand, not wanting to cause a scene. But somehow, you knew this was the right move. Bucky wasn’t the type to cause a scene. He liked to fly under the radar. He wasn’t proud of his behavior. He said he didn’t like hitting you, scaring you, hurting you. And he wouldn’t want other people to know he did just that. People already viewed him as dangerous. At his core, he didn’t want to prove other people right. 

“Have fun tonight,” he repeated. “But you’re going to regret this.”

Regret it, you would. But not for any heartfelt, melancholy, sentimental reasons. You regretted it simply because he would go on to make your life a living hell. Slashed tires. Little messages on your car, your windowsill, your doorstep. You didn’t bother reporting it. You couldn’t. What would be the point? He was Captain America’s best friend, for god’s sake. He was the Winter Soldier. Who was going to want to go up against that?

A crack formed in the center of the door. You were running on limited time, that much you knew for certain. You had two choices: 

Open the door and face him.

Let him knock it down and face you.

“Please don’t make me do this. I don’t want to scare you.”

You’re too late for that, you wanted to say.

“Please just go away,” you sobbed. “Please, Bucky. Please.”

The slamming stopped, the shaking doorframe ceased in its movements. His voice was quiet, hushed.

“I’m sorry, okay, doll? I’m really sorry this time.”

This time. You suppressed the urge to laugh.

You had a choice. You had two, until in mere seconds, Bucky made it for you.

Let him knock it down and face you.