#self-indulgent alter pack
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alterpackzzz-paradise · 4 months ago
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‘’ Opening files,, Proceed ?’’
[ > YES ♡ < ] ———————— [ NO ]
This post was curated by Mod Harry ! 🪞
This post is self indulgent !
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Name(s) ; Muffin / Muffs / Myth .
╰ ☆ ⋮ Pronouns ; He / Him
╰ Neopronoun suggestions ! ๋. ⭑ ;
HY / HYM , SHY / HYR , SPORTS / SPORTSELF , SOCC / SOCCERS , BASKET / BASKETBALLSELF , CHAMP / CHAMPIONS , LEAGUE / LEAGUES , TROPHY / TROPHYSELF .
Age ; Mortal .
╰ ☆ ⋮ 30 Years Old .
Gender(s) ; SkaterBoyic , Boystoneric , Xenboy , Patheticboy , Boycreature .
╰ Orientations ☆ ⋮ Demiromantic , Omnisexual [ Heavy Male Pref. ]
CisIDS ; CisAxolotlic , Ashy Skin , Black eyes , Tall , CisHeight , CisHigh-Empathic .
TransIDS ; TransWeight , PermaYoung-dultic , Transharmed , Permavictim .
Paras ; 🌷 , 🪢 , 💥 , 👀 (being stalked) , 🖤 .
Source(s) ; Sirfluffverse .
Role(s) ; Protector , Rotmate , Moodbooster .
╰ Alter Type ☆ ⋮ Fictive .
MBTI ; ESFP .
╰ Enneagram ! ☆ ⋮ 2w3 .
Other Info ! ♡
Extras ! ♡
╰ Birthday ! ☆ ⋮ May 16th, 1994 ! ♡
Appearance/Faceclaim(s) ;
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traumakiss · 2 months ago
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Name: Andrew, Vincent, Cain, Zachary, Charles, Bones, Nero Pronouns: He/Him, It/Its, Gore/Gores, Fle/Flesh, Kni/Knife, Bi/Bite, Smoke/Smokes, Ki/Kill, Fang/Fangs, Hye/Hym Age: Chronofuck Permadult Gender: Transmasculine, Agender, Boyrevived, Bloodypawprintic, Slaughterboyf, Deadboycoric, Batboy, Bodyhorroric, Slasherboy, Slashermasc, Transmascthing, AK47Boy Orientation: Aromantic Demisexual, BiOmni Species: Human? Typing Quirk: N/A Other: Hypersexual
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CisIDs: Black Hair, Green Eyes, ASPD, BPD, AVPD, White, Canadian, American, Manipulative, Obsessive TransIDs: TrisHarmful, TransProgrammer, TransSchoolShooter, TransRAMCOA, TransNeglectful, TransDoxxer, TransStalker, TrisCannibal Paraphilias: 🍸, 🚸, 🐕🐾, ⚰️, 🦴, 🌷, 🥀, 💤, 🩸, 🩹, 🔫 ! Other: Sadist (Sadomasochist in denial)
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Role: Stinger Alter, Sexual Alter, Pain Suppressor Source: Andrew Graves (The Coffin of Andy and Leyley) Likes: Ashley, Gore, True Crime, Smoking Dislikes: Being Alone, Ashley Being Upset, Neglectful Parents Other: Becomes Apathetic When Seperated From His Ashley Appearance: Canon
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wispyfrills · 6 months ago
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Wisp's alter pack’s!!
I made this blog for alter / headmate packs I will take requests :3
My other blog with my very lovely partner <3
I’m pro-endo!!
There is no template for requests just be detailed
I don’t take requests for transID’s etc all though I do support them!!
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Wisp’s intro!!
Hello!! I’m wisp a mixed origin system off 1’000+ we are collectively taken to necro <3 ( @bloodyfrills ) we use they/rot/bone/song ill do just about any request from any media as long as I can get all the info I need for it.
Tagging system
𝒢ㅤ 🎀 request accepted ᵕㅤ₊
𝒢ㅤ ⚰️ request denied ᵕㅤ₊
𝒢ㅤ 🎱 self-indulgent ᵕㅤ₊
𝒢ㅤ 🪓 talking ᵕㅤ₊
𝒢ㅤ 🎥 reblogs ᵕㅤ₊
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sillies4u · 3 months ago
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SILLIES 4 U ! ! !
this blog was made by @rottinggraves & @punkrocloser !
this blog is for alter / headmate packs , requests are ALWAYS open !
will also (occasionally) do transid coining ! requests are always open for that as well !
no template required , just try to give us a little info !!
both of the mods are pro radqueer , pro endo , pro transid and pro para ! neither of us will elaborate on our contact stances but we are both pro consent .
mod intros under the cut . . .
MOD ASHLEY ! ! !
i go by ashley or styx, he/it/she prns and any terms ! Chrono 15 & intra 19 :3
sources I know: sanrio, monster high, ever after high, Disney, the coffin of andy and leyley, hoyoverse (especially honkai: star rail), needy streamer overload, any horror movie, (some) YouTubers, cookie run kingdom, kpop (g idle, kard, twice, le sserafim, etc.), hazbin hotel, helluva boss, muse dash, death note, bad thinking diary, I love Amy, diary of a wimpy kid, south park, doki doki literature club, the book of life + more !
userbox below
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MOD PYRO ! ! !
My name is pyro I go by they/hx/rot I’m radqueer etc and have 2 lovely partner systems and me and my sub sys will be running this w/ Ashley
sources I know: the coffin of Andy and leyley, sanrio, bandom, MLP, sanrio, DSMP, more
userbox below
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sewers-headmates · 4 months ago
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I’m going to start doing some very self indulgent packs! The next one I have is a Lords In Black + Webby pack with them being gatekeeper/protectors/creators!
gonna tease it with transAge (6) Wiggly, permaTeen Blinky, transHarmful Tinky, transBimbo Nibbly, transCultLeader Pokey, and transMother Webby raaaah i’m excited for them
-mod richie
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quiet-saint · 3 months ago
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More android!Vergil hcs nsfw included. Vergil/reader
Nsfw/+18.
A/n: idk I swear I WAS working on rockstar!dante (3.1k and done but idk if I like it :( but if y'all want it i'll drop it) i just wanted to get more android vergil out there. Self-indulgent as always!!
☆ Didn't really want to be your bodyguard initially. Could've refused your father's request as he is a deviant but he felt something within his programming, an instinct to protect. It is what he was made for after all. Deep down even after all the damage he endured under the mundus corporation, Vergil still wants to protect.
☆ Expected to find a spoiled brat of a human. Is pleasantly surprised to discover you're polite, quiet, if a little annoyed and upset. Understandable given the situation.
☆ Dresses in suits, button ups, slacks. Always looks impeccable.
☆ When Vergil accompanies you anywhere outside of the shared highrise luxury apartment you were relocated to, he changes the color of his eyes and hair in an effort to hide his nature both as a deviant and a Sparda android. Styles his hair differently too.
☆ Speaking of the Sparda line there have only ever been four created. You know of Vergil's brothers, Dante and Nero but you have yet to meet them. Vergil refuses to talk about the first Sparda model.
☆ Ends up doing more than his guard duties. Vergil cooks for you because you skip too many meals for his liking. "Are you truly incapable of taking proper care of yourself?"
☆ Used to cook for V quite a bit
☆ Vergil can and will help you with most things if you ask. He's an android. He's strong and has access to all kinds of knowledge. He won't help you with something if it's not good for you, though. Anything self-destructive is an immediate no. Anything that has the potential to interfere with his job is a no.
ִ ࣪𖤐Nsfw ִ ࣪𖤐
☆ Is a bit of a brat tamer.
☆ Loves to see you cry and squirm beneath him whether from overstimulation or desperation. Gives him the best feeling of power to have you, a human, begging so sweetly. As such he's big on overstimulation and edging.
☆ Vergil has a normal looking cock. Packs more in length than girth. Could buy parts to change it but doesn't want to. Likes it how it is.
☆ His loads are thinner in terms of consistency. Can adjust how much he releases. Also there's the faintest blue tint to it. Tastes like saline but like, faint and a slight altered?
☆ Vergil has thought about that product that temporarily replaces an android's usual taste with a different flavor because he's curious to see how long he can get you to stay there on your knees, sucking and lapping at him. He's thinking about getting the cherry flavor.
☆ Once he discovers your little reactions to his touches, what gets you to moan and squirm, Vergil immediately files it away. Knows exactly how to touch you now.
☆ Can and will hold off his own release for however long he wants.
☆ Into degrading you. Don't try to degrade him though.
☆ Gets off on treating you like a toy sometimes.
☆ As rough and a little mean as Vergil can be sometimes, he's actually quite sweet and gentle.
☆ Android Vergil is actually good at aftercare. Needs to make sure you're okay. The type to run a bath if you want. Can and will also jump in the shower with you.
ִ ࣪𖤐
Literally can't stop thinking about sticking the dmc chars in like the dbh world. I've got who'd be an android, what jobs they have and shit. Idk it's just such an interesting setting.
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karlachismylife · 20 days ago
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People Are Strange
Yup, a surprise drop from me instead of any of the things I promised. Honestly, I just fell into a weird state today and very much was missing the state and things I'm describing here, so I just wrote some extremely self-indulgent blatant self-insert thing I doubt anyone will enjoy. Yup, everything here, except the surprise guest part, is how I sometimes spend time, and the paintings are actually my real paintings too. Welcome to the mind of Juju, I guess, lol.
So yeah, sorry, I'm hoping this will shake me out of today's stupor and let me do the things I actually should. And maybe someone will like it, I dunno.
CW: afab!reader, smoking (a lot of it), alcohol mentioned, clearly unhealthy behavior and habits, altered state of mind, unsafe behavior (please don't let strangers into your home at night). Reader is a painting hippie-adjacent weirdo (hello). Basically no plot. Probably OOC Ghost. Or not. He's also a weirdo, you know.
(Title from a song by The Doors, but it's this track by Ren I've been listening to this whole time, recommended to listen while reading)
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There was a certain irony in the fact that it was the evening you spent blasting The Doors in your lonely apartment that your door got knocked on.
You weren't expecting anyone, self-inflicted isolation has already spiraled to the point where everyone knew to leave you be until another episode passes. All the friends that tried to get ahold of you, were left with unread messages, unanswered calls and your neighbours' reassurance that you were still live and going out to buy groceries - stacks of cigarette packs, the same brand of beer and random assortment of both proper food and unhealthy snacks.
You were fine. You just needed a pause, a break to get recharged in that suspended state outside normal world. Forget about the clocks and proper routine, submerge yourself into nowhere and nowhen, take time to allow yourself some doubt whether or not you even existed.
And paint. You also wanted to paint.
Waking up late past noon, spending time just laying on the parquet board of your floor, eating leftovers and chasing yourself into that limbo by the time darkness fell over the city, you disappeared from here and now every night for already two weeks. World stopped being real, cigarette smoke filled the room in an infinite chain of drags, coiling in a prophetic dance under your slightly yellowish lamps, music warped your sense of space, until you finally dissosiated with that excited tingling in the tips of your fingers holding a brush in one hand and a cigarette in the other. Sounds and objects turned unrecognizable, carrying you through the ever-new and exciting inside-out of the universe.
So it took you some time to finally gather that it was knocking on your door that you heard - you were so far away from Earth, mix of reds, oranges and pinks gliding over your wet canvas, that you forgot even to get scared by someone knocking, quite insistently, into your apartment at one past midnight.
Not that you even remotely knew what time it was.
Still delayed in your reactions, you finally put the butt of your snuffed out cigarette into the overflowing ashtray - the mountain of ash with butts sticking out of it reminded you of that little chemistry trick with ammonium dichromate, and then got up. Once you opened the door of your bedroom, you almost sobered up from your hazed state, much cooler and clearer air of the rest of the apartment hitting your cheeks and exposed shoulders - you didn't even realize how much your train smoking fogged the room and dimmed the light there. The lack sounds in lifeless, yet still lit with all the lamps, rooms, also made you feel like the world got muffled. Must've been all the music you've been listening to for hours.
Or maybe you were still somewhere partially outside your body, far, far away from that two-bedroom apartment with windows looking outside at their yellowish twins littering unevenly neighborly buildings.
Someone knocked again, finally startling you, and you padded barefoot to the door, unlocking it without peeking outside - you forgot.
You didn't know that large man standing outside your apartment, dressed in all black, matching up to the surgical mask on his face. You moved here a few months ago and were going out at normal hours before you had your little episode, and you have never seen him before. What could he even want?
A realisation dawned on you as he looked you over with a visible disappointment in his piercing eyes - was it your sirwal pants, your paint-stained skin exposed by a Ganesha tanktop, all the bracelets or the paint brush you wer still clutching in your hand, you weren't sure, but he looked like the kind of man to grunt "damn hippies" into your back with all the disdain he could find in himself. So the logical conclusion came quickly, despite your brain being slow and foggy, still stuck at the canvas you were engrossed in to the point of using your fingers to paint too.
"Music, yeah?"
He blinked at you, clearly cut off in the middle of his sentence - fuck, you didn't even register his voice, must've been on the wavelength you've already got numb to. But you still tried.
"Sorry, I didn't... my music's too loud? I can turn it down, sorry, I didn't realize-"
"No. I knocked not because of the music." You blinked now, too, the stinging in your eyes hinting that you haven't done that for some time. "I'm from the apartment across... you're new here?"
"Couple... three months, I think. Sorry, I've never seen you, is that Billy's apartment?" Maybe it wasn't. You were pretty sure it was, though, you met Billy once or twice, busy lad, but a nice one. His hoodie was the colour of beans and he looked much friendlier than the guy towering over you in front of your door.
"Aye, bloke's my landlord. Listen, love, I only knocked 'cause ya're the only one not asleep on the floor yet. Can I come in? Got locked out, just came back from work and bloody lock got jammed. Can't call anyone this late." He sighed again and you blinked very forcefully this time, raising your eyebrows to clear your vision and get another, real good look at the man.
He looked tired.
Somehow the more you looked at him, the softer his feautures got - all the hostility now revealing itself to be just plain human irritability and grumpiness from exhaustion. Deep shadows under his eyes - although there was just pure black smidged under his left one, so maybe he actually wasn't as sleep-deprived as he seemed. His posture was off, slouched shoulder that did nothing to make him look less hulking, weight shifted onto one foot to support a duffelbag on one shoulder. Nice boots, though, and keys with the familiar key to common door - so he actually did live here.
"You wanna sleep over?" Your disorganised self tried to do several things at once - ask a question like a normal person would and open the door to invite in a stranger like no normal person would - and almost got stuck in the middle, so you slurred your words and stopped before your door was open enough to let the broad guest inside.
To his credit, he only leaned forward, as if for a step, and then paused, blond eyebrows furrowing with suspicion.
"Ya drunk? High?" Watching him take a step back, you tried to think about his question. Were you? Probably not.
"No, jus' tired." That was easier to explain than the fact that you felt your head fill with fuzzy black dots and little spiky wheels running over the inside surface of your skull. "Come in. I have a spare bedroom."
He came in. Judging by the sound it hit your floor with, his bag was loaded - if you could spare a minute to think properly, you would realize it shouldn't be a surprise if he left for more than three months to avoid meeting you. Wiping your suddenly sweaty and greasy forehead, you tried remembering what is usually done when you have guest's over.
"So... you can leave shoes here... toilet's down this hall, the furthest door, bathroom's close-"
"Name's Simon."
For whatever reason, it was his name, thrown out there right when your playlist paused between Crystal Ship and Spanish Caravan, that made you finally snap back into your body. You felt the itch in your fingers where your brush handle dug into the skin, smelled the smokey aftertaste in the air left by you opening the door and letting that one and a half packs worth of smoke into the apartment, and felt cold in your bare arms. Even felt the hairs on your forearms rise protectively.
"Right. Nice to meet you, Simon. Sorry, I'm a little bit... distracted." Scratching your eyebrow, you named yourself and repeated the instructions about the shoes and hands washing - surprisingly, Simon did just as you said. Seeing him in the bathroom with half of the tiles decorated by those special markers was funny.
Too much glitter and unicorns for such brute of a man.
"So, uh, I wasn't actually going to sleep yet... I can turn off the music so you can rest... want some tea?"
Simon didn't answer straight away, hesitating between two towels, until you finally rushed to help him and shoved the one with Pinky Pie in his wet hands.
"Wouldn't mind a cuppa, love. And don't worry 'bout the music. 'M not gonna sleep either, jus' need a place to stay until I can call 'bout the damn lock. Jus' a few hours and I'm gone."
A few hours was exactly how much you had left in you, before you would sleepily fry your ritualistic veggies for a 6 am supper and collapse on the bed next to a new painting. Somewhat relieved that you didn't have to interrupt your hypnotizing background noise - even though the man himself was quite an interruption - you hummed and padded to the kitchen, finally placing the brush down on the sink edge to keep paint from staining your counter and putting the kettle on.
As you turned, another cigarette between your fingers by inertia, you finally got actually scared - dropped your lighter and everything, big hand reaching out to catch it inches above the floor with inhumane reflex.
"Oh fuck! Shit, sorry, you scared me, you- you're so quiet... thanks." With a trembling hand, you put your cigarette back into your mouth and let Simon light it for you. If your eyes weren't so full of pink from the painting you were doing, you would say his ears reddened a bit.
"Sorry. Jus' a habit," he offered with an awkward nape rub and checked the steadiness of your kitchen table before leaning his hip against it. Behind your back kettle finally started gurgling and bubbling. "Not gonna open a window?"
"Oh, you don't like the smoke? Sorry, I, uhm... well, shit, I kinda got whole apartment fumed..." His eyes smiled - and he chuckled. It was the friendliest sound he made so far, and you liked it. "What? I didn't expect anyone! I just don't wanna get distracted from what I'm doing every time I need a smoke."
"And I take it, you need it a lot, huh?" He chuckled again, and you rolled your eyes at him, turning away for a moment to shake the ash off into the sink. You weren't expecting him to say much more, but he suddenly asked: "Can I 'ave one, too? I mean, I've got mine. Jus' asking if you mind."
Having someone else be okay with smoking inside was nice. Granted, he was probably just using an opportunity since it wasn't his apartment, but your mind flashed with the times you had friend gatherings like that - gutar strings plucked for everyone sitting in a circle, bottles scattered conviniently and that same overflowing ashtray somewhere in the middle, dangerously close to the giant bowl of freshly fried chips.
"Yeah, sure, mate, just... let's go to my room first, I have my ashtray there. Lemme make the tea and I'll show you..."
"Not too hard of a guess which way to go, lass, but sure." Simon was a tease, you finally connected. Taking the piss, a joker. Sarcastic, just like someone you knew.
You missed them less and more now that he was here, disrupting your isolation. Got you completely sobered up by the time you sipped the tea to make sure it won't spill over the rim of the mug, but the thing was, you didn't mind. You passed Simon his mug, the one with "seven days without a pun makes one weak" - suited him well, you thought, and he clearly loved it judging by his chuckle - and grabbed your brush, clutching your cig in your teeth to make way to the bedroom.
Simon blinked as if all the colour and clutter hurt his eyes, when he entered, and then, after a quick scan of the room, locked in on your canvas.
"A real artist, huh?" His tone was surprisingly not mocking - not that you expected to be taken seriously by him. You weren't taken seriously even by yourself.
"No, not really. Just get in the mood sometimes." You showed him the ashtray buried under the hours of trash and took a fresh drag, desperately trying to get back into said mood.
Simon made it hard, though.
"Right. Quite the gallery for "not really" an artist," he circled the room, generally pointing out all the other canvases. Or maybe all the colourful junk in general. "Making a series or somthin'?"
You glanced at the wall he nodded at. Two more pieces with hands imagery. He was right.
"A triptych. Didn't take you for an art person." He cuckled again, as if you made a funny joke, and shook his buzzed head, tapping his cigarette over the mountain Ash.
"'M not. But ya ain't making it hard to guess." While he wandered around your cluttered room, you sat back down at the easel and looked at the rough silouettes of holding hands in the top third of the canvas, trying to rememeber what feeling was strangling your mind to the point of pleasant asphyxia while you were painting them. "And this one?"
Unhappy girl started playing and you caught the irony. A lot of irony tonight, too much for normal world - that's why you felt so safe: you were still not in the real human world where bad things happened to reckless people.
"That's a self-portrait." You grinned as Simon made a point out of looking between you and th big canvas.
"Sorry if that's offensive, but that don't look like ya, love."
"That's cuz it's a self-portrait of how I'm often feeling. Maybe I am a lil' bit of an artist, see, metaphors and shit."
He laughed. You liked that a lot, too. Something started coating your brain in a muffling blanket, and you left your tea mug and cig, picking up the brush again.
"Hands a metaphor too, then?" He finally sat down, on your bed, right where he could watch you paint. You've never been watched, especially while painting, baring your incompetence, chaotic thought flow and emotions.
Your self-portrait was frozen in a constant agony of screaming, overflowing with all feelings at once. If you didn't dissosiate while painting, you would scream in the process too.
"Yeah, hands are a metaphor too," your voice didn't sound right. For some reason, you imagined what you looked like from Simon's point of view from behind.
Like that Johannes Gumpp's painting of himself painting himself from a mirror reflection.
"Of what? World peace?" Simon grunted somewhere behind you, shifting and rustling with something on your bed. Cleared some space for himself among the herd of your stuffed animals? Propped himself on your pillow, still in his street clothes and with a cigarette clutched in a big ungloved hand?
A diturbing feeling of a French stop motion short film enveloped you starting from your forehead, artistic unease of standing on the border of something normal people can't even comprehend. You watched your hand move across the canvas, adding colour intuitively, making judgements on light and shadow intuitively, no training and theory behind your hypnotized movements.
"No... it's a story about coming out of a dark place. I called the triptych "Exit"," you paused, words slurring again as your thoughts slowly choked in the grip of the process and the thrill of having someone witness the birth of your last piece.
Someone who just shifted you back into the right headspace despite being the last person you could imagine doing it.
"It's three steps I'm taking to get out of a bad place in my head. The first piece is To Be." Simon grunted, leaning slightly to the side to glance at the darkest of the paintings. "Cuz that's enough for a start, you know? Just being."
Dipping your brush in bright yellow, you left a stain on the dry skin of one of the hands you were painting. Simon didn't say a word, but you felt that he listened.
"The second one's To Create. Because creating is the opposite of destruction."
There was another pause in the playlist and you lowered your brush, not noticing that the yellow somehow found its way onto your own hand - and now pants too.
Silence lasted probably a million years back at the Earth while you just sat there with your guest. Then the bed creaked, a lighter clicked and a blow of smoke flew over your shoulder, looming form casting a shadow over your bright colours - not a single black spot on this last, third piece.
"And this one?" Simon's voice rumbled right above your ear. You took the cigarette from his hand, slowly, underwater movements and phantom brush of dry lips with an ugly scar on your throbbing in an airless bedroom temple.
"And this one is..." you blinked, a clear thought that he knows hitting the roof of your skull like a suddenly thrown tennis ball. "This one is To Love."
You were still only on your second step, deep into creation. But maybe Simon knocked on your door tonigt to remind you you'll have to move onto the third one soon.
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improbable-outset · 1 month ago
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Do you ever feel like you're going insane when you read smut that makes like ..no fucking sense for the character. Like when ppl write Kenji as if he's some sort of bad boy womanizer and it's not an au he's just like that and it's ..that is???? Not the same man from the movie??? Like yeye bad boys hot but that's a decently polite young man? He memorized all of the reporters names... And knows their favorite teams??? He literally packed his entire life and career because his mom asked him to. Like he only lost his cool under extreme sleep deprivation blatant harassment and the assumption that his father was dead. Tbh the fact he didn't go villain after he though Emi died. Kinda a testament to that man's good boy status. Cause love Miguel but he'd have snapped in that moment (might feel bad after but like that would be after the fact) actually Miguel would've snapped way sooner probably between being told to go back to America and baby getting hurt the first time.
Also aside from baseball stuff Kenji touches things very gently like minimum points of contact, he's terrified of breaking his surroundings people please stop asking him to choke you and choke him instead and call him a good boy. He needs the validation to thrive.
TL:DR
Ouff anon, when I received this ask in my inbox, the first thing I thought of was, “I really hope my writing doesn’t come off like this.”
Because while fanfiction gives writers the freedom to explore characters in various ways, I do think that there’s something special and more refreshing about honoring the complexity of characters and their flaws.
Fanfictions are meant to be fun and imaginative, but it can be jarring when a character’s entire personality gets altered for the sake of fitting a popular trope.
I understand where you’re coming from, though, anon. It’s common for characters to be written into a familiar trope like the ‘dominant bad boy’ even if it doesn’t fit their canon personality.
However, this isn’t something new. People have been doing this for a long time, and I think it’s influenced by platforms like Wattpad, where those kind of characters are super popular.
People gobble that shit up so fast. And it’s become more prominent now and I think it might be because of BokTok. (Don’t take my word for it, this is an extremely biased opinion)
People will apply that trope to attractive characters from different media, and it can often lead to the character being portrayed in a way that contradicts their established personality.
And you’re right, Kenji's softer, more respectful nature might get overwritten because people might prioritise their own fantasies over canon, which might make them feel out of place a litte.
My guess, self indulging.
He is polite and thoughtful, and he definitely has that ‘good boy’ energy like you said. Those small details that you’ve mentioned paint the picture of who he truly is, but sometimes can be lost in fanfics when the focus is on making him fit the bad boy role.
I’m gonna drop some headcanons here, but I think part of Kenji’s politeness came from the struggles he faced when he lived in LA— being made fun of for the way he talks, his culture, and the food he ate.
It makes sense that he might have developed some people-pleasing tendencies from that, almost gentle demeanor, especially on camera. He’s someone who doesn’t want to mess up and tries to stay composed because that’s what people expect from him.
You mentioned Miguel and how he might’ve snapped way sooner. But, you have to understand that Miguel isn’t like for no reason.
His intense emotions and anger is rooted in his guilt. He literally collapsed an entire dimension and accidentally committed omniscide by disrupting a canon unknowingly.
He’s angry and defensive because he doesn’t want to make that mistake again. His strict, no-nonsense attitude is a shield and a defence mechanism as he prevents another catastrophe.
I don’t want to make it seem like I’m comparing their traumas. Both men have their own issues and which makes them unique and shapes their character in different ways.
Kenji is dealing with the pressure of his strained relationship with his father, the expectations of taking over his Ultraman duties, and the lingering pain of being bullied and his absent mother.
Similarly, Miguel’s trauma of losing a dimension and disrupting a canon unknowingly fuels his strict personality.
The only reason I’m delving into Miguel is that he’s another character who often gets rewritten for the sake of thirst or popular tropes, (and mischaracterised for being aggressive) when in reality, his harshness is a product of his deep emotional scar.
And just because a character is attractive doesn’t mean we should ignore the layers that make them compelling.
Both Kenji and Miguel are rich characters to explore with emotional depth shaped by their past experiences.
And I think it’s important to understand and respect those complexities (unless it’s an AU), rather than moulding them into a trope that doesn’t align with their backstories.
Of course, fanfiction is about fandom’s creativity and self-indulging, and people are free to interpret characters how they like, but I understand the frustration when you come across a fic or a set of headcanons that feel out of place with the original character.
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cranegirl · 3 months ago
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Mari (Omori) Alter Pack
not a req, self-indulgent but f2u
Name: Mari
Ages: 16
Pronouns: she/they/duet/meow/lily/melody
Titles: the pianist, [prn] who loves all, [prn] who resides in headspace
Genders: Cis Female, Piantic, Omoriskyic, Melencholiangelic
Sexuality: Bisexual
Sources: Omori
Species: Human
Roles: Caretaker
TransIDs: Transdead, Transsuicide, Transsister, Transghost, Permateen
Aesthetics: angelcore, purecore, fogcore
Typing Quirk: n/a
Sign Off: 🎹, 🐈‍⬛, 🤍, 🧺
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everafter-life · 5 months ago
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Self indulgent Alter Pack
Made this as to test out making one :p
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Names: Rafael, Amitiel, Imariel, Ordiel, Varthiel, Daemon, Cache, Lotus, Ajax, Cisco, Lisa, Perl, Vi
Age: Aeroage
Species: Tech Angel
3rd Person Prns: he/him/his/himself, they/them/theirs/themself, it/its/its/itself, ange/angel/angels/angelself, arch/archangel/archangels/archangelself, wing/wings/wings/wingself, flap/flaps/flaps/flapself, hae/halo/halos/haloself, hol/holy/holys/holyself, tech/technology/technologys/technologyself, ai/ais/ais/aiself, pix/pixel/pixels/pixelself, comp/computer/computers/computerself, 🪽/🪽s/🪽s/🪽self, 🦢/🦢s/🦢s/🦢self, 💿/💿s/💿s/💿self
1st Person Prns: I/Me/Mine/My/Myself, Zi/Ze/Zine/Zy/Zyself, 00/01/0101/11/11self, Wi/We/Wine/Wy/Wyself, None
Genders: Angelgender, Techgender, Angelprogram, Angelancient, Angelial, Maliceangelic, Angedien, Trapped_in_a_computer.gender, Transneutral
Orientations: Orchidsexual, Androromantic, Agapatonic, Ansthetic, Pansensual, Weirdo4Weirdo, Aro4Allo
Roles: Admin, Leader, Census Taker, Innkeeper, Internal Self Helper
Source: Brain Made
Cis IDs: CisDysgraphia, CisOCD, CisFreckles, CisAmbulanWheelchair, CisAngel, CisAI, CisBlack, CisRussian, CisNocturnal, CisGardener, (Cis)Blackamian, (Cis)NatiBlancpillus, CisAgeRe, CisHypersexual
Trans IDs: TransImmortal, ZodiacFlux, PermaOctober, PermaBirthday, TransCastleHome, TransCannibal, TransDeathAngelVictim, TraumaNull, VrLimbic, TransDenspilus, SizeFluid, RainScentian, ApothiGenital, PolyAccentFlux, TransLisp, TransPPD
Paras/Fetishes: Impudicphilia, Priest Fetish
Interests/Hobbies: Gardening, Gaming, Cloud Watching, Walks, Computer Programming, Lost Media
Sign Offs: (can be any mix of these emojis) 💿, 🦢, 🪽, ☁️, 🌫️, 📼, 📺, 🖥️, ⌨️
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Picrew/Inspo images ~
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Picrew Used (Link)
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alterpackzzz-paradise · 4 months ago
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‘’ Opening files,, Proceed ?’’
[ > YES ♡ < ] ———————— [ NO ]
This post was curated by Mod Keith ! 🎤
This post was self indulgent !
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Name(s) ; Mordecai / Claude / Bleu
╰ ☆ ⋮ Pronouns ; He / Him
╰ Neopronoun suggestions ! ๋. ⭑ ;
XE / XIM , STAR / STARS , FEATHER / FEATHERSELF , COSMO / COSMOS , NOCTUA / NOCTUASELF , BRO / BROSELF , BLU / BLUES , JAY / JAYSELF , BLUEJAY / BLUEJAYSELF , CONSTELLE / CONSTELLATIONS ♡
Age ; Mortal
╰ ☆ ⋮ 23 y/o ! ♡
Gender(s) ; Mascbluic , Moonentity , Nyctophic , Starsplodic , Astronovian , Startransmasc , Starblueboy .
╰ Orientations ☆ ⋮ Vincian, Aroflux ♡
CisIDS ; CisADHD , CisAutism , CisBlueJayic , Blue feathers , CisTransmasc . ♡
TransIDS ; TransOtherkinnic , Permavictim , TransSHscarric , PermaYoungAdultic , PermaSemiMaturity , Blueberryscentic , PermaTeenMentalitic , TransCaffeineAddictic ! ♡
Paras ; 🩳 , 💊🌻 (In Denial of) , 🪢 , 💐 . ♡
Source(s) ; Regular Show . ♡
Role(s) ; Protector , Hobbyist , Paichmate . ♡
╰ Alter Type ☆ ⋮ Fictive / Fragment .♡
MBTI ; ISFP . ♡
╰ Enneagram ! ☆ ⋮ 9w8 . ♡
Other Info ! ♡
Extras ! ♡
╰ Playlist ! ☆ ⋮ Starry Blue Tunes ! ♡
╰ Birthday ! ☆ ⋮ May 17th, 2001 ! ♡
Appearance/Faceclaim(s) ;
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traumakiss · 1 month ago
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Name: 彰人 { Akito }, Dawn(e), Jake, Cinema Pronouns: He ╱ Him, It ╱ Its, Neo ╱ Neon, Thxy ╱ Thxm Titles: The Determined Street Musician Age: TransAge YtO { 17 -> 20 } Species: Human Gender: Transmascfem, Boygxrl Orientation: Aroallo, BiGay Typing Quirk: N/A Other: Hypersexual
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CisIDs: Japanese, Ginger, Green Eyes, BPD, HPD, ASPD, Cynophobia TransIDs: TransWhite, TransWasian, TrisHarmful, TransAbuser, TransNeonBlood, TransHanahaki Paraphilias: MAP, Somnophile, Biastophile, Necrophile, Consang Blankqueer Stance: Radqueer Other: Sadist
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Role: Protector Source: Akito Shinonome { Project Sekai } Likes: Pancakes, His Sister, Singing Dislikes: Carrots, Dogs Other: Adores Ena Appearance: Canon
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naris-alter-shop · 7 months ago
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. . . Welcome to Nari's Alter Shop ! inbox : 4/10
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Hey, I'm Nari (they/he), and I make alter packs! I take requests, but I may also post self-indulgent packs every now and again! I'm also willing to make regular old ID packs if anyone is interested in those :]
What will alter packs include?
Alter packs will include suggestions names, pronouns, titles, genders, cisIDs, transIDs, likes, dislikes, roles, traits, and some images/gifs to go along with the pack!
How do I request?
Just send in an ask with a prompt or general theme! You're free to include as many or as little details as you please!
See more info on alter packs below the cut!
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What are alter packs?
Alter packs are similar to ID packs, except instead of being a tool to form a persona or personal identity around, it's to plan out potential alters for systems/plural folk!
Why would systems need alter packs?
Well, there are many reasons. Maybe an introject needs to separate from source, or a system needs to force split an alter for whatever reason, or a willogenic/transplural system is trying to form new alters and needs ideas, the list goes on. Everyone that uses alter packs will probably use them for their own reasons!
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sillies4u · 3 months ago
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CATTY NOIR ALTER / HEADMATE PACK ! ! !
𝛏 ⎯ name(s): catty , tori , sparkle , muse , lyrica
𝛏 ⎯ age: chrono 16, transage 20
𝛏 ⎯ gender(s): valequette , lovirium , fem-ish , catlovegender
𝛏 ⎯ orientation(s): sapphic , cupiosexual
𝛏 ⎯ transids: transbpd , transpermadizzy , transparasocial , transshy , transaave , transmini , transsexualalter , transproblematicalter , transforcedpet , transowned , transstalked , transpinkblood
𝛏 ⎯ cisids: pink hair , pink eyes , werecat , autism , famous , permasmiling , adored
𝛏 ⎯ paras: 🌂 , 🌼 , 💤
𝛏 ⎯ role(s): dear , catgirlxenorole
𝛏 ⎯ source: catty noir (monster high)
𝛏 ⎯ species: werecat
𝛏 ⎯ pronouns: she/her , it/its , pop/pops , pink/pinks , they/them , fame/fames , sing/song , idols/idols
𝛏 ⎯ appearance:
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roses-bah-garden · 3 months ago
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a little self indulgent pack to help an alter in our system form! tagging @sewers-headmates because it's hatchetfield. not including appearance and personality because those will be pretty canon compliant
a new flower has blossomed! 🌹
duke keane (hatchetfield) ... [LVL 4 PACK]
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══════════════════
name(s) ;; duke keane
pronouns ;; they/them, he/him
age ;; late 20s, permayoungadult
species ;; human
gender(s) ;; cismasculine
orientation(s) ;; straight
role(s) ;; caretaker (particularly of littles & middles), brother figure
source ;; hatchetfield
sign-off(s) ;; DK. ; — duke ☕
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likes ;; chocolate, witchy stuff (although it's confusing sometimes), tending to others, dogs
dislikes ;; religious zealots, when people don't listen to him, being single, drugs or alcohol
possible front triggers ;; coffee, babysitting, socializing with family
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cisid(s) ;; social worker, cisWasian, cisADHD, hopeless romantic, masculine, empathetic, sympathetic, straight laced
transid(s) ;; demidead, transpopculturewitch, transseverity (ADHD -> less severe), transdating (miss holloway), transcoffeedrinker, transglasses
kink/fetish/para(s) ;; zeusophilia, hypnophilia, aptophilia, autocordophilia, femdom
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biscuitsngravie · 1 year ago
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Closer
Choso x Reader Shotgunning fic, suggestive
wc: 2112
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You giggle to yourself as you scroll through yet another TikTok video on the couch. As you adjust to fold your legs behind you, it welcomes your movement, hugging you close in its plushness. Every time you sit in it feels like the first time, the smooth velvet feeling just as new as the day it arrived. On the occasion you kick your past self in the ass for arguing with Choso about it being “too much,” to which he interpreted as a criticism on the style and not the price tag that had more numbers on it than a lottery ticket. Though nowadays you happily indulge in every luxury offered to you without hesitation at all. 
“Breaking news—” you scroll past the video without much of a thought. Everything is “breaking news,” these days, and the range is vast. Either a dog found a lost child or another life-altering tragedy has struck the masses, and your mental health cannot take the risk right now. Your eyes flicker to the top of the screen. He’s late again. A large exhale accompanies a small stretch as you settle back into position, preparing yourself for the—
“Hey, I’m home.” 
Fuck. 
“Hey, bae!” you call back, trying to act casual. “How was work?” time travel doesn’t exist. It can’t, because if it did, you would’ve traveled back in time to kick your own ass before asking that stupid ass question. 
Work was shit. It’s been shit for the past few weeks. You both knew that exceptionally well which is why you haven’t asked about it in a while. It’s either unhelpful, noncommittal grunts or the inevitable venting and occasional crying session. You’d never shame him for expressing his feelings, quite honestly you appreciate it. But with recent events, it’s the equivalent of someone asking if you’re fine on a day you are most definitely, absolutely, positutely not. 
Though it does make you happy that he’s comfortable letting his walls down around you. For the most part anyway. To be quite fair, you’re not sure if he has the capacity for them sometimes. While most relationships must cross the hurdle of trusting and learning, Choso’s issue has often been “being.” 
He’s lived as a curse for over a hundred and fifty years. It’s unfathomable to you how the transition to personhood would even begin. Wikihow holds many things, but a tutorial on that, it does not. While you both understand that separating his being so starkly between the two components of his being is not ideal, it’s still endearing to see him engage in his more human nature.
With that it’s been feeling emotions beyond the protectiveness and care he has for his brothers, understanding its complexities and the nuances of it all. It’s been learning how to put it in words and understanding that not all of them can be. It’s been a series of you doing your best to explain to him why certain things made you feel the way you did, and why others did not invoke much emotion at all. It’s so much for something you’ve never had to think much about at all, but seeing him try is something that captures your heart every time. 
You reach over to the side table on your right, opening the small compartment to pull out the emotion card pack. It has ones that start on basics like, “happy, mad, sad,” and so on, and progressively addresses more complex ones. It’s been very useful these past few weeks. 
You can hear his boots hitting the ground with thuds you can lightly feel through the flooring. He’s mad. Really mad.
The shoes hit the ground in carelessness. He stands in the archway at the entrance of the house, while you await quietly in the sitting room. Though every movement is amplified in volume as it bounces off the ridiculously high ceilings. You can hear him take off his outer coat, unzipping it carelessly and hearing the zipper jangle as he tosses it to the ground. His footsteps become a lot quieter as he finally joins you. Wordless. 
“Hey,” you try again, your voice soft and inviting. You put your phone down and get up to wrap your arms around him. He puts his hand out to stop you, and you quickly sit back down. He doesn’t even look in your direction as he makes his way to the wing chair to the left of the couch you’re in, plopping down in his full weight. 
“Do you wanna talk about it?” you offer carefully.
“You got a blunt?” he asks, glancing at the side table near his seat. 
Oh he’s mad mad.
“I can roll one for you.” a grunt of approval is all you need before you get everything out. Though the initial hand in your face used to have you briefly wonder who he thought he was in the past, after hearing what went on in the personal wreck room you two shared, you began to understand that this was only for your protection. 
As you fill the grinder you can’t help but wonder what transpired. Part of you is curious as to what would put him in this foul of a mood, but another part of you wants to give him the space until he’s ready. Since embracing his more human side, getting a job was a little… difficult to say the least. After a few failed attempts at customer service, he eventually decided to go into the world of jujutsu sorcery. 
Sometimes you wonder if it was a mistake.
First was the issue of his classification. Was he a curse? A sorcerer? An abomination? Both of you hated that he had to “choose.” Neither of you brought up his youngest brother, but wondered if he’d had a similar upbringing if anyone would ask him questions like these at all. 
Next was the issue of the workplace and workload. He often went out on missions on his own as a special grade… something. This was mostly fine, but on the occasional pairing or team assignment, “less refined,” sorcerers you’d say, would make all their reservations about him known. They’d shamelessly inquire about things you couldn’t fathom asking of anyone, all while cowering behind him when shit hit the fan. 
The conversation on how he feels “exorcising” cursed spirits for a living was left between him and his therapist. 
It was days like these that left him in the foul mood he’s in right now. 
As you go through with wrapping up, you see him take his ponytails out, making your heart skip a beat. You shamelessly oggle him as he removes his vest and drops it on the floor beside him. He then takes his upper half out of the robe and leans back a bit, sighing. You trace his body with your eyes, going over every rise and divot of his abdomen and chest. His hands swallow the ends of the armrests and you’re just imagining them around your—
“You done?”
“Huh?”
“If you can ‘huh’ you can hear,” he says flatly, head thrown back. He spreads his legs to get more comfortable. He flips one hand palm up, waiting. 
Choso is kind. Choso is sweet. He is gentle and he is patient. He’s also hot as fuck when he is not. 
You will yourself to focus, placing the blunt in his hand when you’re done. It almost looks comically small. Once he holds it properly you light it and sit back down on the couch. He’ll talk when he’s ready. 
You watch the end light up as he takes a drag, his chest slowly rising and falling as he does. You sigh to yourself as you really mentally punish yourself for all of the unhinged thoughts that are racing through your head right now. Hell, speaking of head—
“Did you see the news?”
“Hm?” you perk up and away from your delusions. 
“You heard me.”
Your chest starts to heat up. “Uh, no. Did it—”
“Don’t worry about it,” he interrupts before taking another long drag.  He puffs out small circles to entertain himself before blowing the rest out his nose. He’s quiet like that for a bit, slowly coming down as he reaches his high. 
Once you realize your own breaths have become short, you decide to stop being such a whore and go back to watching your For You Page. You don’t get two videos in before he connects his own phone to the surround sound system, just loud enough for you to not hear your own phone. You sigh in slight annoyance and get up to go get your earbuds.
As you return you see him facing forward now, hair caging his face. Through his strands you can see his blood mark now extending down his face, points extending from the lines like barbed wire. Something inside of you cowers ever so slightly — not in fear, but as a natural reaction once realizing you’re prey. 
He points in between his legs without a word, his head hung low as he looks up at you ever so slightly. Your legs obey him almost instinctively before you can think about it, placing you gingerly between his thighs. You seiza style, looking up at him. If your heart weren’t so loud in your ears you’d be able to hear the lyrics of the song that’s just started. 
You let me violate you.
A smirk tugs at his lips briefly before  letting his face drop back down. He runs his hand down the side of your face, his callouses feel almost featherlight the way he’s touching you. His hand trails down to your shoulder, playing with your spaghetti strap top. He snaps it against you once. Twice.
You let me desecrate you.
He blatantly oggles your chest for a moment. You can see the gears turning in his head and try to even your breathing, feeling your head fill with fantasies of your own. 
You let me penetrate you.
Maybe it’s just your imagination, but he slightly shifts after that line, his thighs tensing ever so slightly. You keep your hands in your lap as you wait, trying not to bite your lip to give away your anticipation. 
You let me complicate you.
He brings his hand back up to your hair, massaging your scalp through short, coily hair. You’d recently gotten a summer cut and he couldn’t seem to ever keep his hands out of it. It feels soothing enough though, causing you to lean into his touch. You let out a soft moan as if to disguise it as being conjured from the innocent touch and not the mess happening in your underwear right now. Your eyes close to let you focus on the sensation, or rather, many sensations. 
He gets closer, caging you between his thighs just a bit. His fingers entangle themselves in your hair and guide your head’s movements, causing you to open your eyes. You can feel your nails dig into your palms as you try to resist grabbing him right then and there. He hasn’t closed the distance between you two, but his presence is almost overwhelming. 
He scrunches his nose to sniffle for a moment before saying a single word. “Open.”
By now your nipples are definitely poking through your shirt, throbbing and need for attention, as well as other parts of you. You shift a little to get even the slightest bit of friction to no avail, and listen without question. You open your mouth and watch as he takes another drag before bringing his face ever so slightly closer. Not close enough in your opinion. He pulls your head back and blows the smoke into mouth, nice and slow. With a brief view before he brings you all the way back, you catch his hooded eyes and nearly moan at the sight. You sit still and take it all in, swearing the warmth is from the smoke and not the primal desire you have for him. 
I wanna fuck you like an animal.
He pulls your head down and gives a noncommittal chuckle with a fleeting smirk, only to return to his default “bored” looking expression. “Good.”
I wanna feel you from the inside.
He leans back in his chair, bringing the blunt to his lips again. “Choso—”
I wanna fuck you like an animal.
He brings his hand up to stop you before you finish.
My whole existence is flawed. 
He pats his lap — an invitation you desperately take, already feeling that he’d been holding back just as much as you with a swelling on his thigh.
You get me closer to god.
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this is my second ever character x reader fic, but i like this one wayyyyy better! i hope someone enjoys, it was a lot of fun!
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