#still not proud of the mixing… But……

[lavenderchqn]

✧・| kiss kiss, fall in love

— favourite places to kiss with genshin men

content warnings: modern!au, hurt/comfort for scara & fluff for the rest, mentions of biting, mentions of night terrors, fear of abandonment

𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈

Cheeks. It’s both the simplicity and sweetness of kissing your cheek that does it for him. Not to mention how he can always feel your smile gracing your beautiful face the second his lips meet your face… And there’s another benefit for putting your cheeks first — your neck is right there, just mere inches away. If Venti’s feeling playful, he’ll lull you in with the tiny kisses just to strike at your neck at the last second. 

Venti thinks he’s being so smug right now. Well, it’s both him looking so proud of his partner… and being completely smitten with their entire existence. His eyes scream nothing but love, as you’re doing the mundane things in life — currently settling on picking what sort of flower to add to your ever-growing crown.

The two of you have decided to spend the weekend out on a picnic, to just enjoy yourselves. Not to mention how it’s the first day after weeks of nothing but rain — it’s almost as if the universe itself wants you to have fun.

You carefully weave in another daisy as you feel a brush on your cheek. Venti’s lips are always soft — akin to the first snowfall or the best cotton candy in existence. A smile graces your lips, as you take a peek in his direction, so pleased with himself. “What’s on your mind, Ven?” You ask. 

“Who, but you… hmmm?” He mirrors your smile, swaying from side to side as he takes in your surprised reaction. He moves on top of the blanket, picking the wreath from your hands to put it aside. He’d rather not have your hard work crushed, just because he has you go through a love attack.

Even though he’s allergic to cats, with his next movements he could be mistaken for one. Venti gets to you all nice and gentle until he pounces at you — sending both of you down. He proceeds to pepper your entire face with kisses, increasing the speed he covers you with them the second a giggle escapes your lips. 

At one point, you can even feel him bite your cheek a little. “Sorry~” He giggles, kissing over the spot. “Had to confirm you’re not made of sugar there, Sweets!” 

𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐑

Lips. From tiny pecks to long, tender kisses he adores them all. The sheer satisfaction of how well your lips fit together… just like two pieces from the tiniest puzzle. If he had to choose his favourite way to kiss you, it would be deep and hungry — he’s making sure that you’re not only with him and in the moment, but also putting his entire feelings into each and every one of them. 

Don’t think, take a deep breath, it’s just a nightmare. None of the usual remedies can shake off how terrified Wanderer is, getting up from another iteration of his night terrors. They usually came and went, not lasting more than a week at a time. His chest rises quickly, as his hand ruffles through his hair. 

“…Hey,” He whispers into the room, overcoming his pride in trying to fight his bad dream alone. The silence he’s met makes him pat your side of the bed, growing even more worried the second he finds it empty. Surely, he wasn’t in another layer of the dream space. You wouldn’t just leave him, right… Right?

He’s quick on his feet, leaving the overwhelming space of your bedroom in search of you. He, physically, cannot allow himself to stay in your shared room any second longer, lest the negative thoughts bury him in self-doubt completely.

The stomps, mixed with some sway from still being laced with sleep,  of his road down the stairs echo throughout the entire house as he stumbles into the kitchen. He breathes out with relief the second he spots you. 

“…Hmm?” You murmur, nursing a glass of water. That’s right, you were still here. You didn’t abandon him like others. You must’ve gotten thirsty, that’s all. 

Wanderer tugs on your hand, dragging you to meet your lips together — strong, yet still laced with anxiety. His arms wrap around your waist, deepening the kiss. He keeps at it, giving you mere seconds to breathe before continuing with an assault on your face. Only when his heartbeat returns to normal, does he allow you to leave his embrace. 

“All better.” 

𝐍𝐄𝐔𝐕𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄

Hands. Arguably the most polite way to kiss one’s partner, but it’s his favourite nonetheless. His love for your hands comes not only from pleasant memories of he had used to greet you back in the courting stage, but also from how soft they are. A small peck to the palm when you stroke his cheeks while cuddling, a dainty kiss to your fingers whenever he’s putting putting on your rings for you, Neuvillette adores them all.

It’s far too crowded for your liking. Normally, you wouldn’t even consider leaving your house during rush hour… But life clearly had other plans. You were on your way to pick up Neuvillette from work, and head to the jeweller’s afterwards. Your beloved ring had to be taken in for resizing, leaving you without the usual weight on your hand or something to fidget with the second you got bored. Truth be said, you couldn’t wait to get the ring back.

“Glad to see you’ve made it, Love.” He says, gently taking your hand to place a kiss before lacing it together with yours. Some of his coworkers are in the middle of leaving the office, noticing their senior being domestic with their partner in public. He’ll for sure be the talk of the ‘town’ tomorrow, and yet Neuvillette pays them no mind, cordially bidding them farewell,  before heading to the shop.

You’re almost jittering with excitement, humming along to Neuvillette’s recounting of his day, void of confidentialities. You cannot say your day was as exciting as his was. Something he absolutely scolds you for, arguing that even seeing butterflies on your way to his workplace makes it fun. 

You make it to the jeweller’s in no time. The shop assistant is pleased to hand you your ring back — shining just as bright as it did when it first came into your possession. Before you even think, Neuvillette takes your ring and places it back where it belongs. 

It’s only where you leave the shop, does he takes your hand and places a dainty kiss on your knuckles. As much as it didn’t feel right to make a display of your love right in the shopkeeper’s face… there’s something that puts him at ease seeing you with the wedding band. Love, perhaps?

𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐘

Shoulders. He lives for the tiny jerks your body makes as he sneaks behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist, as you’re caught off guard. Not to mention how you tilt your head slightly to give him more access or don’t shoo him away as he picks kissing your shoulder as his preferred way of greeting you in the morning

Saturdays. Arguably the best day of the week. No school, no work — just comfiness of one’s bed as no ringtone is there to forcibly make you start the day. The one negativity Saturdays bring is that it’s too hot to laze in bed. You’re basically captured in the trap, courtesy of sunshine blinding you in the face as well as Wriothesley’s body heat.

You stick one of your legs out of the comforter, hoping to ease your suffering a little. Your shift, to try and escape the iron grip of Wriothesley’s embrace, however, does not happen. “Too early…” He murmurs, voice deeper from being laced with sleep. He drags your body right back, to where it belongs — his arms, now additionally held down by his face nuzzling into your neck. 

“…so heavy…” You tilt your head, trying to slip out. His messy hair is tickling your cheeks as he snuggles even closer. Seriously, at this point, you’re better off using him as a blanket and ditching the heavy comforter entirely. It’s not like Wriothesley will mind. 

“Wrio…” He hums, acknowledging your pleas for freedom. “I’m too hot…” You whisper, pouting a little. You decide against telling him how much you’ve planned today — he’d only retaliate that weekends are for recharging only. Wriothesley’s right, of course, but he doesn’t need to know that. “You sure are…” He agrees, using your suffering as a means to compliment you. With the way he chuckles slightly, it’s no given Wriothesley’s smug and pleased with himself. 

“Alright, buttercup,” He shifts, releasing you from his grip. Wriothesley places a tiny kiss on your exposed shoulder. “How ‘bout morning coffee, huh?” 

date of posting — march 27th 2025

[janluxe]

GENUINE CARE – CALEB / XIA YIZHOU

–summary; just because we grow up, it doesn't mean we change for the worst, right? –contents; smut, fluff, and maybe a sprinkle of angst.

–word count; 3.1k –a/n; writing scenes like this is so interesting yet so awkward at the same time I can't,, have a nice day/night, and thank you for reading <3 (also Caleb's myth>>)

You held a special place in his heart ever since he had first seen you.

Caleb had always been so fond of you. It was sickening for everyone else who had to tolerate being around.

His mind is still haunted by your laughter and the joy that overfilled you back when you were carefree and small, still jumping in puddles of water made on the side of the road.

And much like a gardener who takes care of his precious flowers, Caleb was always on the look out when it came to you – from starting fights with your bullies to being there whenever you needed someone to listen to you talk about your issues.

He would wait a lifetime if it meant he got to spend it by your side, being the reason for that bright smile of yours. He would carry your burdens for you without a second thought if only you allowed him to.

His mind had always been a museum of you and the moments you had gifted him with.

Caleb, despite everything he has been put through, still holds onto the memories he has made with you as a kid, recalling every single detail related to you.

He remembers how your hands quivered before a play date you had arranged with a classmate of yours back in the old days. Of course, he hasn't changed all that much – even back then, he despised the idea of you spending time with someone who wasn't him, but the hint of excitement hiding amongst the cracks of your voice made him soften to the thought.

Caleb carefully fixed your hair, small and childish hands running through each strand and pulling your bangs out of your face with a red apple themed hairclip he had bought for you on his way home from school. He loved you too much to let you struggle on your own. Your gaze followed his slightly taller frame in the mirror as he swiftly moved behind you to zip up your dress and then proceeded to fix any imperfections of the fabric right after.

He took a small step away from you, staring at you with a proud smile on his boyish features. "You look... pretty." The compliment echoed in your mind as you stared at your reflection, completely taken aback by his work.

"You're beautiful." Caleb muttered against the bare skin of your shoulder. His teeth grazing against the soft flesh and his tongue running over to soothe the redness he had created. His hand rested on your waist, enjoying the closure for a minute more before he started to unzip your dress.

The badges on his chest weighed heavy, the cold metal coming in contrast with the warmth of your back. The Colonel's uniform on him was a strange sight as someone who had been with him through the good and the bad ever since he was a child. The softness of your dress' straps got replaced with the smooth feeling of his leather gloves, causing your shoulders to tense at the change of sensation on your skin.

"You seem a bit tense, pipsqueak." He stated, letting your dress fall and pool at your feet as he placed his arm behind your knees. His grip on you was firm, yet gentle when he lifted you up. The mattress dipped under your shared weight, while Caleb's eyes were stuck, admiring the golden hue on your features.

The sun had begun to set in Skyhaven, changing the colors of the sky into a fun mix. They were right. They were right about how pretty the sunset is in this city, yet Caleb wasn't interested in watching another nightfall, not when his whole world was in his arms.

"Easy now..." He mumbled, bringing your frame even closer to his own, fingers pressing into the taut muscles of your shoulders in an attempt to massage out the tension with precise movements. "Tell me what's bothering that little noggin of yours."

"You've changed." You hesitated but didn't fail to notice a small smirk forming on his face as his hands slid further down your back, following the outline of your spine.

A faint scoff escaped him as he leaned closer to you, wanting to close the space between you, but he held onto his sanity for now. "How come?" A quick and simple question that did an incredible job at throwing you off.

"Well... you're not the same boy that used to walk me to class, help me wash my hair..." Your voice was like a well-sung poem caressing his ears even while you kept listing off reasons he seemed different than he was before.

Caleb held eye contact with you. It didn't feel strange to either of you, not after so many challenges and games of 'whoever-looks-away-first-washes-the-dishes-for-a-week' during your time together.

"You're not exactly the same either, now, are you?" The steadiness in his voice always had a soothing effect on you, but his words didn't exactly calm you down completely. You were about to throw a protest at him before the feeling of his hat on your head messed up your thought process. "We're all grown up now, pipsqueak."

"That doesn't mean we've changed for the worst." He murmured against the shell of your ear, his voice lowered to nothing more than a whisper. Fine dark hair tickled your cheek as his lips traveled down to your jawline, leaving pecks on every part of skin they could reach. "Give me a chance to show you." The desperation dripping off his tone went straight to your core –large hands unclasping and sliding off your bra.

Your mind remained occupied with his tender touches along your back and his kisses on the column of your throat, creating a way to escape reality if you decided to just shut your eyes.

Caleb always had the tendency to put you before himself. Even while the other boys of your age grew selfish, he despised the idea of neglecting your needs for the sake of his own

His hand moving to rest on your waist brought you back into the present. The small, surpised noises that escaped your throat encouraged him to trail his lips further down, finding the nubs of your chest and circling one with his tongue and finally popping it into his mouth He tried his best to make it feel good for you – Caleb wasn't just willing to, no, he was determined to please you.

Part of you believed this was the wrong thing to do after being brought up in the same household and playing the roles of siblings. But the rules that society placed upon you didn't linger in your mind a moment longer when you noticed the look he was giving you, violet eyes full of stars stolen from the night sky and saved just for you.

"I'll make this work, pipsqueak." Caleb's words landed your skin, soothing the path of goosebumps he had left on it. "Be a good girl, and I promise I will." He had always been good at keeping his promises, no backing out – and, in fact, already sliding off the only remaining clothing on you.

Your shivers and the way your skin soaked in the golden light that sneaked through the blinders urged him to keep going, to leave patience and taking it slow for another day – his grip on the plush flesh of your thighs was the only thing keeping his emotions in check, reminding him that he should take things slow. After all, your satisfaction meant more to him than his own pleasure ever would.

If he could keep you right here just like this forever, he wouldn't hesitate.

The badges on his chest clinked under your hand the moment you decided to push him back into the mattress.

Beneath all those layers of responsibility lay a faint, but not unfamiliar, heartbeat, one that always grew louder and quicker with the right touch.

Whenever he refused to open up about his emotions because he believed he shouldn't burden you with his troubles, his body betrayed him despite his best efforts. You could tell how much he needed you. The way his slender fingers clenched onto the sheets like they were a lifeline, the soft pink hue creeping onto his face and the very obvious bobbing of the Adam's apple in his throat was telling you everything you wanted to know.

Despite the position he was in, the usual softness in his expression lingered and yet, it perfectly harmonized with the hint of a frown creasing his brow and the ever-so-slight quiver of his lip which gave away his underlying complaint.

Beneath all those layers was a boy who did everything in his power to keep you happy when no one else bothered. A boy who made sure to protect not only you but also your memories from anyone who dared disturb you.

Heat started pooling in your abdomen. You were no stranger to the feeling, especially when he was the cause. Thoughts of the first time you felt it rushed to you, it happened while playfighting with him and getting pinned down out of the blue; he allowed a small hint of frustration to seep through his usual facade before he played it off like he always used to do. Your eyes traced the outline of his muscles flexing against the thin fabric of the shirt he was wearing. His touch remained gentle but didn't falter even for a second.

You couldn't help but zone out, noticing how underneath all those layers, he was still the same man.

A small, choked noise escaped him the moment he felt your hand unintentionally trailed lower. "Fuck." Caleb slowly losing his cool over something so small was a sight you could get used to.

"You can't be serious." Your teasing comment and the cocky smirk you wore had him teetering right on the edge of falling apart before your very eyes.

The sight? Pathetically adorable and judging by how red he had gotten all over, it was bound to get much worse.

"Please." Caleb knew how embarrassing it was to be in a position like this, unable to touch you even after waiting for you all these years. But to put it quite frankly, he couldn't care less about his dignity at the moment. "Can I touch–" his words caught in his throat, or crashed into your thumb when you slipped it past his lips to shut him up.

You couldn't resist teasing him, running your hand all over his uniform, and feeling him twitch under your touch. There were small details on his attire that piqued your curiosity, playing around with them while he observed you. "You're still in uniform. That's not very fair, is it?" You cooed, grounding yourself against the rough fabric of his uniform. He was a sight for sore eyes; propped up on his elbows, trying to communicate with muffled sentences and loud whines.

Caleb's cries filled up the quiet room before you removed your finger from his mouth with a wet pop, and he was already struggling to catch his breath. "Good. It feels good..." his chest rose and fell rapidly under your hand, hips bucking involuntarily as he felt his mind slip. Sadly, this wasn't enough, and you were both aware of that fact.

He was in awe of the way you handled him effortlessly, already drowning in the sensations you were –oh so generously– offering him. His eyelashes met the freckled skin of his cheeks each time you toyed with his belt.

Caleb was never one for formal wear, so the first time you saw him in his academy outfit, some feelings stirred. And now his Colonel uniform had you going feral.

"My love, I can't–" The words rolled off his tongue easily, yet trailed off into a gasp the moment he felt his tip nudging the entrance of your glistening folds.

'My love'? Not 'pipsqueak'?

"I can stop." A mere comment had him biting down on his lip, hand reaching out to hold you in place before you even had the chance to move away and accidentally pulling you even closer which caused the both of you to groan.

"Do anything you want, just don't stop." Caleb managed to mutter, feeling too overwhelmed and underwhelmed by the feeling of you enveloping him – the scent of your body lotion overcoming his senses. "I'm begging you."

Violet, glassy eyes staring up at you through long eyelashes, hoping you'd give him at least something.

You could stay right where you were for the rest of eternity, leaving him exposed the same way he had done – the evidence of which was your clothing, still scattered in the bedroom. But, you knew you wouldn't do that.

The Farspace fleet Colonel deduced to the mess writhing underneath you while you took the opportunity to get used to the feeling of him pushing apart the velvet surface of your walls the more you sunk down on him.

You shut your eyes, trying your best to adjust to the sensation; sure, it was pleasurable to an extent, but it contained a painful undertone that couldn't be ignored.

Noticing how your nose scrunched up, a hint of discomfort coloring your features, Caleb immediately moved his hand to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. His touch lingered on the back of your neck as he reassured you, "It's okay." Voice soothing and sweet like honey on an open wound, "I've got you, pretty girl."

All of his attention was on you. It never left you, in fact. "You're doing an awesome job. Look at you." He cooed, allowing his eyes to flutter closed right after he pressed his forehead against yours. The rhythm he had set was slow and shallow, making sure your first time with him wouldn't leave a bitter aftertaste in the future.

"I'm fine." Your words seemed to calm him down. He couldn't help but feel a tinge of pride when you finally managed to gather up the strength to fully settle on him, and the awful smile he had on proved that even more.

"I know you are." Caleb coaxed, talking to you with the same amount of admiration in his voice even when he was just a young boy. "You're taking me so well." was a sentence you never expected to hear from his mouth.

You couldn't help but pause, a faint chuckle escaping you before a comment about his way of praise left your lips automatically, "Can't you express yourself better than that?"

One moment, you feel overwhelmed by the newly found sensation, and the next you feel homey enough to laugh with his maybe-not-so elegant remarks. "Noo, I can't." He protested playfully, thumb brushing and gently squishing the flesh of your inner thigh. "Not when you're this cruel."

"You're acting like you hate it." Your voice was filled with complaint, causing his features to soften up like they always used to do back then; when you explained to him how your day at school went like shit because of a bad grade, or how one of your friends was talking behind your back and especially when you couldn't spend time stuck to his side because he had to focus on his studies.

A hearty laugh eacaped his throat, acknowledging your effort to make him feel guilty, "No, I love it, honey." Caleb bounced back with no issue, having grown accustomed to your acts. And yet, a part of him struggled to remained composed while your small frame grinded down on his significantly bigger one, seeking out friction.

"You, on the other hand, are awfully impatient." Caleb's usual teasing attitude seeped through the muffled noises that escaped him each time you moved around. "Still the same, hm?" He hummed, trying to prove a point even while his voice was barely stable, and his mind was already traveling places. "Maybe I should bring your favorite treats next time. To make this more engaging cause you seem a bit lost." His thumb lightly pressed on your clit caught you off guard, and your reaction was written all over your face. It was clear how proud he was with his comment while you struggled to keep a straight face.

The pad of his finger gently traced the outline of your nub, testing the waters and coaxing it to harden under his touch before he applied more pressure. Your thought process melted as you slowed down your movements and eventually let them halt completely. "Oh no, don't stop now. You promised." The unnatural low pitch of his voice and his breath on your face snapped you back into reality, not allowing you to take without giving.

You could feel his hipbones grazing against the skin of your thighs while you squeezed him, in every sense of the word.

"Come on, we both know you can do better than that." Caleb encouraged you, placing a gentle kiss on the corner of your lips with the hope that his moans wouldn't sound as pathetic as they truly were. Maybe he had a chance to prove that he wasn't a total loser who wasn't already holding off his release.

His soft praises faded into a harmonic haze as he peppered your face in kisses while your hips met his in a rhythmic motion. Caleb admired every aspect of you more than anyone ever could, and he wanted you to know that. He was willing to give you everything you asked for and more. He wasn't afraid of pleasing you, and it had you arching your back in an attempt to find a different angle. One that made you see universes unfolding before you, universes in the same color as the irises that mesmerized you on a daily basis.

"When did it get dark?" You managed to mutter, still putting a lot of effort into forming a coherent sentence while your eyes studied the darkness of the room – your body still slumped against his.

The smell of his cologne enveloped your being, calming you down. Caleb was there with you, and he wasn't going anywhere without you.

His hand redirected your face to rest against his chest, feeling his heart race under your cheek and his laughter erupt from his throat. "You're totally out of it, huh pipsqueak?" Caleb teased, flicking his hat before he took it off of your head and set it aside so he could replace it with his face.

A position that reminded you so much of how he used to hold you when you were still the same height.

"Come on, let's get you cleaned up." He murmured, picking you up effortlessly right after he was done kissing the top of your head to carry you to the bathroom. "I've got you."

[sunsetmade]

Eyes on You

Rafe Cameron x Reader

Summary: Even when you’re arguing with him, Rafe still gives you his full attention.

The drive home was silent. The only noise that filled the car was the gentle hum of the car. No music, no talking, just tension. Rafe Cameron sat behind the wheel, his gaze not focused on the road, but rather on his upset girlfriend. However, his mood couldn’t be any different. He was proud of himself.

The last thing that happened before getting into the car was her dragging him out of the party, his bruised knuckles still throbbing. A guy had been getting too close to her all night, making sleazy comments. Rafe had finally had enough and decided to teach him a lesson. It wasn’t anything too serious—the guy only ended up with a broken nose—but it could’ve been worse if she hadn’t stepped in. The last words Rafe muttered to the guy before he was pulled away were, "Stay the fuck away from my girlfriend.”

Rafe pulled into Tannyhill and parked the car, the engine rumbling to a stop. For a moment, the silence hung between them. He reached for the door handle, planning to get out and open her door, but before he could move, she was already stepping out of the car and shutting it behind her. As she brushed past him without a word, a smirk tugged at the corner of Rafe's mouth. He let out a low chuckle, watching her walk by, his eyes filled with a mix of amusement and admiration

Rafe followed her into the house, closing the door quietly behind him. He stepped into the kitchen, leaning his back against the counter with his arms crossed. She put her purse away in the closet, and when she reappeared, she moved around the counter and opened the fridge.

“I just don’t get it, Rafe,” she said, sliding a bottle of water in his direction. He didn’t take it. Instead, he shifted his body slightly, positioning himself to keep his eyes locked on hers. His gaze never wavered as he watched her, waiting for the next words to come from her lips.

She walked back around and stood in front of him, his gaze tracking her every move. When he remained silent, she let out a frustrated sigh.

“You always do this!” she exclaimed, throwing her hands up. “No matter where we go, you always have to start something.”

She paced back and forth in front of him, her frustration growing. But through it all, she couldn’t ignore how his eyes never left her. He nodded slightly, silently giving her the space to keep going.

“I don’t want to go places and have people whispering and staring at you like they’re scared of you. I-” She stopped, standing directly in front of him again, taking a step closer. Despite her anger, she still felt the pull to be near him.

“Continue, baby,” he said softly, his hand rising to rest gently on her hip.

Her breath caught in her throat, surprised by how attentive he had been this whole time. He wasn’t arguing or pushing back—he was simply watching her, listening.

"I... I just want people to see you the way I see you." Her voice softened, barely a whisper. His gaze was intense, like he was trying to reach into her soul, and she felt a shiver run through her. He gave her a small smile that made her throat tighten. She sighed, stepping into his chest, her arms wrapping around him instinctively.

Rafe didn’t hesitate. He pulled her in, holding her like he was afraid she might slip away. "I’m sorry for making you feel that way. I just... I wanted to protect you, pretty girl," he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

She looked up at him, her heart aching when she saw the raw, regretful expression on his face. It made her want to soften, to forgive, but the weight of everything still lingered. "I know you do," she whispered. "But I don’t want you hurting yourself for me."

Rafe's eyes met hers, determination flashing in his gaze. "I’m willing to get hurt if it means you don’t," he said quietly, his voice almost too serious.

She fought the smile tugging at her lips but groaned in frustration. "You're too charming, Rafe."

He chuckled, a low, knowing sound, before gently lifting her chin, his lips meeting hers with a tenderness that made her forget everything else. As she kissed him back, she realized she’d long since let go of her anger.

"Only for you, baby," he murmured against her lips, his arms slipping down to settle around her waist, holding her close. “Only for you.”

[softnwonderful]

NSFW Alphabet: Joel Miller - The Last of Us

Pairing: Joel Miller x Gn!Reader Word Count: 2.9k Rating: Explicit Warning: Straight up filth. Sexual Content obviously, Canon-Typical violence, mention of Cum Marking, Creampie, Somnophilia I guess (idk how to discribe it but it's non-con, skip letter D = Dirty Secret if you don't want to read that), Daddy kink, Inocence Kink, Orgasm Control, Voyeurism, mention of Face Fucking, Cockwarming (oral), Dirty Talking, Exhibitionism fantasy. As always, let me know if I'm missing something.

Author's Note: This applies for both Pixel Joel and HBO Joel, but definitely pre-Jackson because i think a few things would change as he gets older. Some of the letters are too long, some too short, it's 3am and I'm tired; enjoy.

SEXUAL CONTENT UNDER THE CUT. YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR OWN CONSUMPTION.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex) 

He’s big on physical contact, so he goes for some cuddling if the context allows it. He loves to have you use his chest as a pillow and your body curled against his side. He even enjoys the sticky feeling of the thin layer of sweat over your skin, mixed with any remaining bodily fluids. He will put some effort on looking for a damp cloth to clean both of you up if you prefer, but if it’s up to him he won’t move a muscle.  

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s) 

He’s a pretty simple man, so of course his favorite part of his body has to be his dick. But I don’t blame him, he has reason to be proud. He’s never bragged about it, but he was definitely pleased with the amazed look in your eyes the first time you saw it and took it in your hands. If his dick weren’t an option, he would say his hands; they do a lot for him, from playing guitar to pulling a trigger.  

When it comes to you, he adores your hips. It’s not so much about shape or size, but rather functionality. Being able to grab you intensely and manhandle you to whatever position he pleases, controlling the pace and strength of every thrust with his hands digging in your sides, it makes him feral.  

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically) 

He cums an impressive amount, not enough to be concerning or anything, but it is quite a lot.  He’s also a nasty old man about it, he won’t make you swallow it if you don’t want to, but he will make it his mission to use it to mark as many parts of your body has you allow him. His favorite thing to do with it is fill you up to the brim, so when he pulls out, he can collect any drop that flows out of you and shove it back in with his fingers.  

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs) 

He never told you this and maybe never will but, when his attraction for you was on its early stages and he was still unsure whether he should approach you in a more insinuating way or not, he had trouble keeping his impulses at bay.  

This one time, you had been walking for hour towards your next destination, when the sun started to set and decided to camp on a little corner in the wood that seemed relatively safe. It was a humid night of summer, so you didn’t need to start a fire and barely made use of your sleeping bags, simply laying on top of them to avoid touching the soil beneath you. Joel took the first shift of surveillance while you slept by his side, but he couldn’t stop himself from staring; the way your clothes hugged your body and the expression in your face looked relaxed like never before, it made him feel important to know you trusted him enough to let your guard down completely like that.  

Soon enough, he found himself getting lost in the slow movements of your shallow breaths and the soft noises you made in your sleep, and by the time he realized he already had his hand down his pants, massaging his growing erection. He jerked of to the sight of your slumber body that night, with his cock in hand so close to your face he almost painted your lips with his cum.  

E = Experience (how experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?) 

He had his fair amount of adventures when he was young, and most of his experience comes from that. After he settled down and later on became a father, he didn’t have enough time or energy to keep on “improving” his abilities. So even after years had passed since the initial outbreak happened, he kept the number of hookups as reduced and shallow as possible, using them only as a distraction to cope with the circumstances he’s up to live in.  

The point is: he is pretty experienced and know what he’s doing, but he might be a little rusty at first; he’ll compensate with enthusiasm and some really good dirty talk.  

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying) 

Missionary and the Flatiron are his go to, he gets off on the idea of being on top of you, pinning you down with his weight while covering you from view. He loves to feel big and strong. Of course, he’s open to try any other position you’re curious about, he’s not picky.  

He’ll let you get on top in very few occasions, only when he feels comfortable enough to let his guard down and have you completely exposed riding him. 

And for the days he feels particularly feral, he likes the Mating Press, to keep your ankles by your ears while he takes you like an animal. 

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? Are they humorous? Etc.) 

He usually reflects the common emotions someone would feel during an apocalypse, that means sex with Joel ends up being very serious and intense, always tinted with the underlying fear of losing you or the uncontrollable anger towards anyone who makes his job of keeping you safe harder.  

But in the rare cases you can allow yourself to overlook to the societal collapse all around you, he can get a little giggly and teasing. 

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? Etc.)  

Before the outbreak he used to be pretty well groomed, always keeping things tidy. But obviously that's not an easy habit to maintain when you have more important thing to worry about, like surviving the day. Let's just say que trims his pubes very occasionally.  

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? The romantic aspect) 

Aside from the times he fucks you like a beast, he’s actually super gentle. When you have the time, he likes to patiently caress you all over and enjoy every little touch, he doesn’t go straight to fucking. And even when he gets there, he’s really passionate about it, like every time you do it might be the last (because it could be) and the end of the world is near (you are literally living through it). 

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon) 

Almost never did it before he met you, only few times when bored and needed to pass the time. In moments like those, he would stroke himself really slow and even edge himself a couple of times to make it last as long as possible; he liked to squeeze every last drop of pleasure out of it.  

After you entered his life though, it felt like a curse; he didn't remember struggling so much with his urges since he was a teenager. When you spent time together, he would have to tear his eyes away from your body after promising himself that he wouldn’t stare. And even when he managed to get some alone time, your image invaded his thoughts, and he just had to relieve some tension. 

When you finally got together, he had the urge to do it but didn’t see the point; he had you now, so he didn’t need to.   

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks) 

He’s not a very eccentric man, so he goes for simple concepts. Don’t get me wrong, he can be kinky, just don’t expect him to be into anything too unusual like idk clowns. 

Joel prefers to be in charge, you know, what he says goes (he is willing to surrender control, but you only get a glimpse of that once you get to Jackson, and he allows himself to relax). So, naturally any type of power dynamic that includes you calling him names like Sir or Daddy drive him crazy. He also enjoys knowing he’s more experienced than you when it comes to sex. Maybe he’s your first, or you are younger and didn’t get much of a chance to experiment before the outbreak happened; whatever the reason may be, it pleases him in a dark and selfish way. Expect him to whether edge you repeatedly or make you cum over and over again, he likes controlling your orgasms as well.  

On the times you end up having sex to release stress after a particularly difficult day (by this I mean: days where he thought he would lose you to the hands of infected, or had to torture some guy that wanted to hurt you), he goes quite primal without even realizing. The sounds that come out of his mouth are no other than growls, and he eagerly humps you like there's no tomorrow.  

I also think he might have some fantasies he doesn’t act on because they’re just too impractical for the apocalypse, like bondage or fucking in front of a mirror. Getting tied up is extra dangerous in case you happen to get attacked by surprise, and finding a mirror that’s still standing after 20 years of chaos is not an easy task.  

L = Location (favorite places to do the do) 

Again, not picky as long as it’s safe enough. He does like to fuck you standing more than he thought he would, so not having a bed it's not really a problem to him.   

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going) 

Might sound creepy but: watching you when you're not looking. Seeing you relaxed and happy or doing somewhat domestic tasks makes him feel like his doing a good job at protecting you and keeping you safe.

And he loves the view of you in your most natural, sometimes quite vulnerable, state. Like when you take advantage of some clear river to wash yourself as he sits there, alert to any danger, while still getting lost in the sight of your naked body dancing around the water, showing your back to him and looking over your shoulder as if you had something to hide to the eyes that have already seen it all.  

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)  

Hurting you physically or causing you any type of pain is out of question. Even things like hard spanking or light choking would take a lot of convincing for him to give in to even try once. He doesn’t see the point on causing each other pain when you already live in a world where you are constantly trying to avoid it at all cause.  

Also, no Cuckholding or Swinging, so basically no sharing, the thought alone has him raging.  

He also loves when you give him head, but feels guilty to want to force fuck your face. He knows how it feels to have you gagging on his shaft, and he’s scared of how much he likes it. He’s terrified of losing control and hurting you accidentally. If you are into it though, some talking and setting boundaries might convince him of doing it more often. 

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.) 

Big oral giver (I'm trying to stay gn! here), loves a good earthy smelling bush to shove his nose in. He’s so filthy about it, too. He’ll be locked in, drowning in between your legs, lost savoring your core while grinding against whatever he can make use of, without even trying to make you cum but making you shake from pleasure nonetheless.

HIs favorite way of having you is sitting down, with you on your knees between his legs, slowly licking and tentatively taking more and more in your mouth, following his instructions with no rush while he plays with your hair. It’s not about cumming, but rather enjoying the warmth of your mouth as long as he can.  

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? Etc.) 

He can do both fast a rough or slow and sensual, but why not slow and rough; that’s his favorite pace. Keeping things sensual while still making you feel each deliberate thrust, having you beg for every single inch of him until you feel you’ll snap in half. 

We all know the line: You squeeze the trigger like you love it; gentle, steady, nice and slow. 

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.) 

He prefers to take things slow, so not the biggest fan. But beggars can’t be choosers, so he makes the best out of any situation.  

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? Etc.) 

He takes risks only as far as the context allows it. Prefers to play it safe most of the time but, whenever you discover something new you want to try, he can’t resist your puppy eyes and ends up giving in almost every time.  

And when he’s the one who comes up with some new idea to try out, get ready because, more likely than not, it’ll be something wild.  

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?) 

He’s erections can’t keep up with his horniness sometimes. The first one stands proud and high until he comes, after that it’ll take a bit to get it back up. But he’ll have to hold himself back from continue fucking you with his soft dick because he just refuses to accept he has to pull out and recover before a second round.  

With enough time and rest he can put up with 2 or 3 rounds of penetration and, if you still need more after or in between, he has plenty of energy and determination to satisfy you in different ways.  

T = Toys (do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?) 

Doesn’t really like dildos, he doesn’t get it. Why would you what to use a piece of plastic when you already have more than enough of the real one in from of you? Any other type of toy would be more than welcomed, as long as they don't become a safety hazard to use in your bodies for lack of proper cleaning and care. And you could only bring a few with you, to avoid carrying extra weight around (I know, living through an apocalypse can be a real bummer).  

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease) 

A LOT. God, that man loves to drive you crazy with it, and he’s extremely patient for it too. He'll take any opportunity he gets to place his hands on your hips as he walks past you or have you sat on his lap even if there’s more than enough space to avoid it. He’ll caress your hair, tilt your face up to look at him by gently grabbing your chin, scatter soft kisses on your temples and forehead; he knows exactly what he’s doing and will pretend like he has no idea while still being smug about it.  

His teasing doesn’t even begin with touching, oh no. It starts even before that, with soft words whispered to your ear when you least expect them: a “you’re doing so good, baby” while shooting practice or a “play with yourself for me ‘til I get back, will ya’” right before he leaves for an important mission for a couple of days.  

I’m telling you, he'll drive you mad.  

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.) 

He’s not the loudest, really. His moans tend to sound more like growls or heavy painful breathing. He’s huge on dirty talking, though; he literally won’t shut up. The closer he gets to his orgasm, the obscener his words become and the looser his tongue gets.  

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character) 

He has fantasied about fucking you in front of the next guy he holds captive for trying to go too far with you; he’s done way worse than that before. I mean, he has tortured people for hurting those he loves, I think tying them up and forcing them to watch him take you (after beating them up a little) would be nowhere near one of his biggest sins, right?  

He gets so much pleasure from thinking about showing them who you belong to, and how they’ll never be able to please you, or touch you like he does; like the possessive asshole he is (affectionate). 

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes) 

Two words: Horse Cock. Hanging heavy, more girthy in the middle and slightly leaning to the left. Just glorious.  

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?) 

He tends to yearn for intimacy more that sex itself. Most of the time he craves the physical contact, the closeness and the pleasure that comes from your mutual understanding of each other, more than the plain orgasms. Other than that, I'd say he has a pretty average sex drive. 

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards) 

Immediately. The man is old, he’s tired, he’s whole body hurts and has been through a lot. If a bed is available, he’ll make sure you’re ok and comfortable, to then fall asleep the next second while keeping you as close to him as humanly possible.   

Likes and comments are always welcomed and appreciated <3

[juanjoltaire]

Ever since I heard the Hunchback of Notre Dame musical, I wanted to draw Enjolras singing Phoebus's solo from the finale. Finally nine years later I've finally taken the time to draw it. Hugo musicals colliding, it's funny to me that two musicals based on Hugo's work are are like my top two musicals of all time. Here is a link to the song if you'd like to hear it. The solo in question is at 3:12 on that track. And if you've never listened to the album run and do it! It's based on the Disney movie with the Disney songs but is much more serious and mixes in more of Hugo's vision into it. It's wonderful.

Also if you are a fan of Hunchback please check out this other illo I did, I'm still proud of it all these years later.

[novaursa]

i’ve been manic for some wildling!reader based stories, especially thenn warg readers (male reader preferably😊) maybe with daenerys or cersei even lol.

the character insert will basically enlist (or tries to at least) the reader as an ally/confidant, with vague romance blossoming)

The Savage She Freed

- Summary: It was the will of the gods that you are to be set free by the Mother of Dragons.

- Pairing: male!reader/Daenerys Targaryen

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @oxymakestheworldgoround @idenyimimdenial @literaturedog

The heat clung to your skin like a second layer, sweat and dust mixing into something foul beneath the cracked leather that clung to your broad shoulders. Chains bit at your wrists, iron rubbed raw against the bone, but you barely noticed anymore. The low murmur of slave markets had dulled to a monotone hum, a backdrop of misery you’d long since accepted as constant. You kept your eyes forward, unblinking. The other men in the pen shifted, muttered prayers or curses, but you remained still, a silent figure standing taller than most—your skin pale and scarred from the cold of the far North, a strange contrast to the golden sun and terracotta walls of Meereen.

You did not belong here. That much was obvious.

“You see that one?” you heard the slaver bark in thick Astapori Valyrian, gesturing toward you with a gaudy, ring-laden hand. “Northman. Tall as a Hyrkoon bull. Says he can speak to beasts—claims he’s a warg. Witchcraft, if you ask me. But some buyers like freaks.”

You said nothing. You hadn’t spoken since they caught you—poachers from the southern edge of the Frostfangs. They’d set traps meant for wolves, but caught you instead. The people of the Thenns were proud, brutal, and rare; most had died beyond the Wall. You were one of the last. And you had no desire to speak the tongue of your captors.

The murmurs shifted. People parted. The slaver’s voice dropped to a reverent whisper, and instinct made you glance toward the commotion.

She walked like flame on silk.

White hair spilled over her shoulders like snow over ash, her skin smooth and pale, her violet eyes bright and inquisitive. Her posture bore command, and yet there was kindness—real, not rehearsed—in the way she tilted her head when the slaver addressed her. Beside her was the old bear, the knight who glared at every man who looked at her too long. You recognized him from stories whispered by Unsullied: Ser Jorah.

But the woman—Daenerys Stormborn, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, Mother of Dragons—her gaze fell on you.

And held.

She came closer, boots crunching sand underfoot, not with hesitation but purpose. You met her eyes because you had no master and did not lower your gaze for anyone.

“What is he?” she asked softly. The language was Westerosi. You understood it well.

“From the lands beyond the Wall,” the slaver said, puffing up with importance. “Savage. Some kind of skinchanger, he says. Dangerous. I’d keep him muzzled.”

Her eyes didn’t move from yours. “He has a name?”

“He won’t speak it.”

She stepped even closer, close enough for the scent of her—salt, smoke, and something floral—filled your nose. Her eyes narrowed slightly, as if trying to read your thoughts. “Do you understand me?”

You nodded once.

“Then tell me your name.”

You hesitated. You hadn't spoken your true name aloud in moons. But her voice was not cruel. It was soft like snowfall, curious without mockery. You met her eyes and said, voice hoarse with disuse, “Y/N.”

A breath caught in her throat. Something flickered in her gaze—surprise, interest, maybe even desire.

Jorah stepped forward sharply. “Your Grace, I strongly advise against—”

“Enough, Jorah,” she said, not taking her eyes off you. “I’ll take him.”

The slaver grinned and rubbed his hands. “Fifty gold honors, my queen. For you—”

“Twenty,” she said. “He’s bruised and half-starved.”

“Thirty—”

“Twenty,” she repeated, and the edge in her tone silenced all further negotiation.

And just like that, your chains were undone.

You staggered a little as the weight fell away, but remained upright, towering above her. She looked up at you without fear. “You’ll ride with me,” she said. “Eat. Bathe. Rest.”

You didn’t thank her. You didn’t know how.

That evening, she summoned you to her tent.

You’d been given clean clothes—loose linen dyed in the colors of House Targaryen—and a meal unlike anything you’d tasted in months. Meat, spiced rice, honeyed dates. You’d eaten it all while suspicious eyes from the Unsullied followed your every move. But no one stopped you. You had been bought by their queen.

The guards parted when you approached her tent. Inside, the air was heavy with incense and firelight. She stood by a brazier, hair unbound, wearing a robe that shimmered like molten silver. She turned slowly, studying you.

“You don’t speak much,” she said, offering wine. You took it but did not drink. “That’s all right. I imagine they took much from you.”

“They took nothing,” you replied, voice low. “I am still me.”

She smiled then. Not politely. Genuinely. “Good.”

You sat where she motioned. She did not sit on her throne, only on a cushion across from you, legs folded beneath her.

“You’re not like any man I’ve ever seen,” she admitted, running a finger along the rim of her goblet. “Not even the Dothraki, and they’re fierce beyond reason. But you… there’s something older about you. Something wild.”

You shrugged. “I am of the Thenns. We are old blood. And I see through the eyes of beasts.”

“I know what a warg is,” she said, voice barely above a whisper. “North of the Wall, the songs say. Skinchangers. Some say you’re cursed.”

You raised your eyes to meet hers. “And what do you say?”

“I say a curse is only a blessing someone feared.”

You allowed yourself the faintest smile.

“Jorah warned me not to bring you into my camp. He says you’ll slit my throat the moment I turn away.”

“Then he’s a fool.” You leaned forward, resting your arms on your knees. “If I meant to kill you, I wouldn’t wait.”

“And yet here you are.”

“And here you are,” you said quietly. “Sitting before a man you barely know, who was chained like a dog not a day ago.”

She laughed softly. “Perhaps I am a fool, too.”

“No,” you said. “You’re something else.”

The brazier crackled between you, shadows dancing over her face. She looked away briefly, fingers toying with her hair. You could see the pulse at her throat, could smell the way her scent shifted—curious, hesitant, intrigued.

When she looked back, her voice was softer. “I think we will understand each other, you and I.”

Perhaps you already did.

[staciesometimeswrites]

Morning Light

BuckTommy / Rated: G / Words: 744 / No beta and very little editing

On Ao3

This moment felt intimate. It always did, no matter how many times Buck experienced it. He'd woken to an empty bed, though the sheets still smelled heavily of that woodsy, sort of smoky scent that his husband favored.

Tommy always woke up first; it didn't matter if he'd worked through the previous day or was just coming home as Buck should be rising. So it wasn't unexpected to be alone. Smiling, Buck wheezed as he stretched his long body until his toes almost cramped before he settled back under The covers once more. Maybe just… five more minutes.

Rolling to his side, he dragged his left hand out from under the covers and examined the beautiful, titanium band shining on his ring finger. A shiver ran up his spine. One year. It had been a whole year since  he'd said “I do” to not only a man, but the love of his life.

He gave a whole body happy little pleased wiggle, giggling just once. Then his stomach released an unhappy wail with its hunger; should it not be fed soon it would shrivel into a prune. 

Grumbling, Buck threw back the comforter and rolled until he flopped off the edge of the bed, coming to a less than graceful standing position. His vision swam for just a second from the sudden change but once it had cleared, he grabbed the first pair of boxers briefs he found - they could've been Tommy's but who knews - and yanked them on one foot at a time, hopping down the hall as he did.

The scent of freshly baked bread wafted from the kitchen, a mix of cinnamon and sugar, as well as the nearly nauseating smell of fried meat. When he entered the small space, Tommy stood tall and proud at the stove, moving a spatula in slow circles through what Buck could assume was scrambled eggs.

As Buck entered the room, Tommy turned and offered the softest smile, the one he reserved only for him, and greeted him with a simple, “Hey.” Tone a little sing songy.  The way Buck loved.

Bypassing the coffee pot, his astute husband had already poured him a fresh cup and doctored it just the way he liked, he walked straight up to the counter and hopped up, swinging his legs like a little kid. Next to him was a bowl of fresh cut fruit and bagels Buck had made fresh yesterday afternoon. Even with Tommy back in his life, baking had become one of his passions. He hoped to share it with his… with their… kids some day.

Snagging a piece of pineapple he popped it into his mouth and hummed happily, tongue whipping out to catch the juice trying to escape. Tommy didn't seem to mind not getting a verbal reply. Rather, he lowered the heat on the eggs and set the spatula aside.

A moment later he stood between Buck's legs, an impish smile on his lips and his large hands running up and down the length of the younger man's thighs. Finally Buck said, “Morning.”

“How'd you sleep?” Tommy brushed one of his large, calloused hands along Buck's jaw. He leaned into the touch, eyes crinkling as his grin grew wider.

“It was the best night I've had in this place.” He parroted the words back from what felt like eons ago. Like he did every morning. Like he would do every morning in the future. “And you?”

“I've never slept better.” Buck's heart melted when his husband beamed at him, his smile so high wattage he could blind someone with it. The smile he reserved for Tommy and Tommy only. Their bubble broke when Tommy cried, “Shit, the eggs.” He whipped around, took one step towards the stove, and then immediately turned back - stepping in even closer than before. Then he pressed his lips first to Buck's mouth, then the tip of his nose, and then finally, letting it linger for a long moment, his birthmark. 

And then he was back at the stove, whistling as breakfast finished cooking, face alight with joy. And Buck knew that his expressing matched the pilot's.  How did he know?

Because there was no reason that Buck couldn't feel a joy so large it could burst from his chest at any moment when he knew he'd be spending the rest of his life with a man that treated him like the most important, and precious, thing in the world.

[heartz4levi]

any dewey fluff hc ? love your work 💜💜

light up your heart, so i can see you shining !

☆ thinking abt dewey + fluff hcs . . .

☆ dewey (alnst) ,, gn reader . . reader and dewey's relationship is left up to interpretation ,, silly fluffy and domestic headcannons all thrown into a pot and mixed together to create something for the starving dewey fanbase (i'm apart of that fanbase...) ,, other characters are mentioned (isaac).

first off, dewey gives the most comforting hugs. maybe he'll squeeze you a little bit too tightly inbetween his stupidly beefy arms, but the way he holds you is enough to release all of the tension from both your body and your mind. if he rubs your back with the palm of his hand, the motion is soothing — if he pats your back, though..

yeah, he's not patting, he's knocking some of the air in your lungs right outside. but that's okay! he still gives some of the best bear hugs.

dewey, as a whole, just makes for a great pillow. and he doesn't complain either so long as the two of you are relatively close. you can rest your head on his chest and it'll feel like your head is resting against the fluffiest clouds known to man. but no, that's just the physical evidence of dewey's dedication to his workout routine.

speaking of workout routine, dewey would love it if you ever accompanied him to the gym. regardless of whether you're exercising too or just watching him as he goes about his routine, dewey enjoys the company. he isn't against the notion of teaching you a few new things about working out if you're not as well–versed in that domain.

the only way dewey knows how to comfort someone during a sorrowful moment is by being his authentic self. in other words, trying to cheer you up and by extension lighten the mood with whatever silly stories he can recall and share or with whichever joke comes to mind first. dewey is naturally quite the amusing individual, and it does work wonders.

but sometimes you don't want him to make you laugh. sometimes you want to spend some time with him in total silence, and dewey's okay with that too. is he a remarkably quiet person? no, he isn't, but when he can sense your distress signals that call out to him and tell him what it is that you need, he's willing to do his best.

even if you're not feeling down, dewey will lounge around in your vicinity and will hold back from exchanging one too many words with you if that's what you prefer.

if you prefer the opposite kind of hangout, dewey automatically becomes one of your favourite people to go out with — he always has something new he wants to try out, another adventure he wants to go on or some silly shenanigan he can pull off to piss a couple of people off. (isaac).

believe it or not, dewey's masculinity isn't fragile. therefore, he'll allow you to doll him up if you feel like doing so. he'll sit still while you turn him into a pretty princess, puckering his lips when you're about to apply lipgloss or lipstick on them, looking up when it's time to put some mascara on.

he would absolutely play along and act like the typical, girly and over–dramatic young female antagonists you always see in cartoons and similar pieces of media. hell, dress him up for extra accuracy! good luck finding something with that princess pink vibe that's going to fit his physique, though. at least you can give him a cute purse..

completely off—topic, but dewey is one of the greatest hypemen the world has ever seen. there is no such thing as feeling insecure when you know dewey. he does an effortless job at making you feel comfortable and proud in your own skin, causing your confidence to skyrocket despite being at its lowest not that long ago.

with dewey around, you feel safe. he's like a big guard dog whenever the two of you are out and about — no creepy individual has ever tried approaching you on the countless times you've gone out with dewey, because he can notice their stare even if they're far behind and on the other side of the road. a warning glare is all he needs to express for said individual to give up on whatever it was that they were going to do.

well, 'warning glare' is an understatement. realistically, dewey would pull out one of the most ridiculous scowls and probably warn that person not to come any closer or try anything funny via.. certain gestures. so long as you don't notice the silent exchange, everything's fine!

despite initially mistaking him for some himbo who has more brawns than brain, dewey is actually someone who you value more than you ever thought you would. and, of course, he values you too. more than words can express.

[themostforgottengirlintownn]

her is my Jane :3 (in Gacha ofc because I can’t draw)

(for a disclaimer because…yeah, I am not mixing FNaF and RTC together, from the very beginning of me watching RTC I thought it’d be cool for a puppet themed Jane Doe, this is for fun, don’t call me cringe, I’ve gotten bullied enough on TikTok for mixing them, literally someone was like “oh youre mixing FNaF and RTC together? Are you like one of those dumb bitches in 2016 mixing FNaF and MHA together?’ Not even close but, okay….dont bully me :)…)

so for some silly things about her 😈

During her Ballad, she stands in a box like the puppet has in FNaF and it spins like the teacup does in that one production of RTC (I forgot the name, don’t kill me)- idea by @deerdoeb

her doll also sits in a box that she puts her doll in during any of the songs so it won’t get lost- idea by @magical-sweet-kitty

For her ballad she is a puppet and she gets yanked around and sorta tortured by everyone

So when she dies on the rollercoaster, of course she replaces her head with the doll, but different parts of her body were scratched up or cut or bruised so she was staple pieces of her doll onto those parts of her so she’d be part doll part human

She cries a lot so I’m the background when people are fighting/talking she will start crying

Noel actually gives her the birthday, not Ocean. Ocean despises Jane because she knows everyone will vote for Jane rather than herself so, Noel gives her the birthday because he cares.

she gets dizzy, her doll head is very light but since she stitched it on her head it’s stiff so she gets dizzy and trips or falls over

she spends most of her time with Noel, Ricky, Mischa, and Trishna because they are the nicest to her and she is also friends Constance but Constance is still a tad bit scared of her so she tries her best to stay away so she won’t scare Constance.

any prop that she gets, like glasses for TSIA or a lollipop for Sugar Cloud she’ll drop it then go looking for her doll

she copies other people’s emotions (kinda like Jane in majestic rep)

Ricky will paint her face and since it’s porcelain he’ll wipe it off

she hugs everyone (not ocean) after their song because she’s proud of them for expressing themselves

EggDolls is canon in my au, YAYAYAYAY so Mischa and Jane dance during “Talia”

now, that’s all the things I got, I want you to give me headcanons for her and I will add my favorite one’s to the list

[luvbabydoll]

a/n: i don’t know what came over me! but john price x laswell x you

the air’s thick with cigar smoke and something darker, heavier—tension coiled tight as you kneel between her thighs. your lips are slick, messy with her, and your tongue’s working her over in sloppy, desperate strokes now. you’re past tentative, past shy—her taste’s coating your mouth, bitter-sweet and intoxicating, and the way she’s grinding against your face has your head buzzing. her hand’s fisted in your hair, pulling hard enough to sting, and her breaths are coming in sharp, filthy little gasps.

“fuck, sweetheart,” kate groans, her voice wrecked, unraveling as you suck and lick at her clit like it’s the only thing that matters. “you’re a quick learner, aren’t you?”

you barely hear her over the wet sounds filling the room, your own muffled whimpers vibrating against her cunt. your hands dig into her thighs, nails biting skin, and she’s trembling now, so close you can feel it. john’s watching from that damn armchair, cigar smoldering between his fingers, but his eyes are black with hunger, locked on you—his sweet, innocent wife—eating out his boss.

“christ, look at you,” he growls, voice rough as gravel, thick with smoke and lust. “makin’ a mess of her. didn’t think my girl had such a dirty mouth.”

kate’s hips buck, a choked moan spilling from her as you double down, tongue plunging deeper, lips sucking harder. she’s dripping down your chin, and you’re so lost in it you don’t even care how sloppy you look—cheeks flushed, mascara smearing, spit and slick everywhere. john stubs out the cigar with a harsh twist, the ashtray clattering as he pushes up from the chair. you feel the floor creak as he moves, his shadow falling over you, and then his boots are planted right behind you.

“time to reward my good girl,” he mutters, and before you can process it, his big hand’s sliding down your back, rough and possessive. he yanks your skirt up, bunching it around your hips, and you shudder as the cool air hits your soaked panties. kate’s still rocking against your mouth, her grip tightening as she watches him, a wicked glint in her eye.

john doesn’t bother teasing—two thick fingers hook your panties aside and plunge into you, stretching you open with no warning. you cry out, the sound muffled against kate’s cunt, and the vibration makes her jerk, cursing under her breath. he’s not gentle, pumping into you hard and fast, curling his fingers just right to hit that spot that makes your legs shake. your pussy clenching around him, dripping down his knuckles, and the wet squelch of it mixes with the filthy noises you’re pulling from kate.

“fuckin’ soaked,” john rasps, free hand cracking down on your ass with a sharp slap that makes you jolt. “gettin’ off on this, aren’t ya? my wife’s a slut for it.”

you moan into kate, half-delirious, your body caught between his relentless fingers and her pulsing heat. she’s unraveling now, thighs locking around your head as she grinds harder, chasing it. “don’t stop,” she hisses, voice breaking, and you don’t—you can’t—tongue flicking and sucking until she shatters, a ragged cry tearing out of her as she comes on your face, slick flooding your mouth.

john doesn’t let up, fucking you through it with his fingers, his thumb rubbing messy circles over your clit until you’re whimpering, hips bucking back against him. kate slumps back, panting, watching you with a dazed, sated smirk as john leans down, breath hot against your ear.

“made her scream, love,” he murmurs, dark and proud. “now let’s see how loud i can make you.”

his fingers twist deeper, and you’re gone—clenching hard, soaking his hand as you come undone with a broken sob, face still buried in kate’s lap. she strokes your hair, soft now, while john’s growl of approval rumbles through you, his fingers slowing but not stopping, milking every last shudder from you.

[kordifm]

Ooh, this looks like a fun one!

1. How many works on AO3? 4

2. Total AO3 word count? 17,868

3. Top fics by kudos:

nine

Wonderstruck

New Year, New Reality

Spilling Champagne

4. What fandoms do you write for? Mostly LEGO Ninjago! I have a handful of unreleased fics that I've either put aside or am still working on, but the majority of my WIPs are about my favorite fruit-colored children. I have two published shorts for Persona 5 Royal, but I don't really plan on writing any more unless I come across a really good idea for another one.

5. Do you respond to comments? I try my best to at least thank everyone for commenting! But of course, I'm also always down to read/explain any of the symbols/references I sneak into my fics.

6. Fic with the angstiest ending: Definitely Spilling Champagne. It's the only fic I've written that has absolutely zero closure as far as the mainline story goes.

7. Fic with the happiest ending: Wonderstruck! I've always loved exploring the emotions of excitement and hope surrounding potential new relationships.

8. Do you get hate? Tbh, I don't think I'm a popular enough writer to garner that sort of negative attention.

9. Do you write smut? *horrified gasp* I could never! At the most, I'd write a very non-descriptive fade-to-black scene; but even then, I would need a very good character development sort of reason to even consider writing anything close to suggestive.

10. Do you write crossovers? I have started on once. In Junior High. It was rather bizarre, and I refuse to release any details.

11. Ever had a fic stolen? That's a thing?!? Thankfully, no.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? Sadly, no. Sounds cool though! That'd be an honor!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic? I haven't! I'm not opposed to the idea, but knowing myself, I'm not sure how I'd feel about writing alongside someone else, unless it was a multiple POV story or something like that.

14. All-time favorite ship? This is actually a really difficult question for me to answer. I'm generally not a huge shipper? I really love Cole/Vania from Ninjago (the fandom perspective), but also Neil/Eva from the To the Moon series (canonically).

15. WIPs you want to finish but doubt you ever will? Wonderstruck was once 1/13 of a short story collection, but I doubt most of its companion chapters will ever see the light of day.

16. Writing strengths? I've been told I write really convincing childhood characters, especially via dialogue? I'd also like to think that I can handle symbolism fairly well in my stories. And I can churn out a little bit of poetry under very specific circumstances.

17. Writing weaknesses? I couldn't write a riveting action scene even if I tried, mostly because I get a little too bogged down by details. I also tend to bite off more than I can chew as far as multi-chaptered fics. Sometimes, I spend so much time in the planning stage, that I kind of burn out the idea before I get to the actual writing part.

18. Thoughts on mixed language dialogue? I wouldn't mind giving it a try once! I struggle with learning languages personally, so I think I'm mostly worried that I would do it incorrectly.

19. First fandom you wrote for? I think it was a four-chaptered fic about the Scarlet Witch that took place between Avengers: Age of Ultron and Captain America: Civil War. It's actually still sitting on my laptop somewhere. That's really a throwback though.

20. Favorite fic you've ever written? I think I will always believe that nine is the best thing I've ever written. It was such a wonderful challenge for me to get back into writing after several years of not doing so, especially with the imagery and emotions that I wanted to capture with each installment. I'm just really proud of it.

A longer one, @wingdingbat!

I have been tagged by @batrogers!!

1. How many works on AO3? 241

2. Total AO3 word count? 1.25mil. Almost to my 3rd AO3 anniversary :D (that's around 1,170 words every day for three years, not counting nonpublished words! Proud of that rate, even if it's slowing.)

3. Top 5 fics by kudos:

Status? about Four. I think this one hits the sweet spot for a lot of people: not too long, a bit angsty, but sweet.

so i admit that the mud didn't do much for me, about Hyrule. Actually the first fic I ever posted on this account, it's silly and I'm surprised to see it so high

incandescently happy, a post-LU happy ending. Posted little chapters every day for like a month which kept it in people's feeds so I think that's why it's so high

what is a stump supposed to do, a random Hyrule & Four one, honestly baffled why it's up here

Rise and Shine and Fall, my successful (by that I mean actually wrote and posted every day on schedule) Whumptober 2022 extravaganza compilation. I posted it all in one work, so it's higher than most other whump fics of mine, but there's a lot in it!

4. What fandoms do you write for? Zelda. In the past I wrote a tiny bit of Danny Phantom and a fair amount of FE3H!

5. Do you respond to comments? Always!! I admit to being SO VERY BEHIND right now, a couple months' worth. I'm trying to keep up on new ones, but I've had some beautiful wonderful readers going through my catalog and I can't always keep up!! XD

6. Fic with the angstiest ending: I don't write a lot of negative endings, so I think this badge goes to Counterbalance, my LU Darks AU. I'm actually fully in love with this fic, it's probably the best mix of silly and angsty I've ever written. It's full of what are essentially OCs but they're all my babies and I love them.

7. Fic with the happiest ending: incandescently happy, post-LU. The whole fic is essentially a fix-it ending, though LU doesn't have an ending yet. XD

8. Do you get hate? A couple silly comments trying to tell me I'm doing things wrong, but not really no! Oh, also can't forget the ask I got that was "Remember that Jesus is your first reader." I think that was meant to be passive aggressive but there's a chance it was meant like, genuinely? Not sure.

9. Do you write smut? Nah. And I don't plan to. Not my thing! Closest I get are vampire bites XD

10. Do you write crossovers? I swear I've done more but the only ones on my AO3 are a Vidow fic done in an original world (Nothing New Under the Sun (crystals, dumplings, jewelry)), and Blood-Sucker's Guide to High School, a Vidow retelling of a very fun vampire novel.

11. Ever had a fic stolen? Nope, but I did have one of my Vidow fake fic book covers stolen for someone's fake fiverr listing. Got it taken down with a DMCA but I was like, why

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? Not to my knowledge.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic? Oh plenty. @enrolio and I spent most of 2020-21 lockdowns and beyond cowriting, mostly original stories (1.7mil) but a lot of fic, too (nothing published, but almost 400k worth.) We're currently in the process of working on a big epic original fantasy series, though that's a long-term project. @batrogers and I have done a few alt-POV-type projects too, which have been super duper fun!! Hope to do more.

In that vein too, I feel like the Bad End Links kind of qualify here—so much of the characters and their stories were brainstormed collaboratively and so many friends have contributed details and fics and art, it feels like a fun group project! I've really enjoyed working on it. :D (the encouragement and hype for it also helps a lot!! I'm really hoping to finish this big project out!)

14. All-time favorite ship? Ahhhh a harder question than you'd think, tbh, even if you're limiting it to fic. I've written the most for Vidow, and they're definitely up there (same with Fourdow though I've done less with them.) I do have to admit that Linhardt/Byleth might take the cake, though. They were the first ship I was ever actually obsessed with, and the first romantic pairing I wrote in fic.

I just really adore Linny in general, and I love how the pairing continues and closes off some of the themes in the Crimson Flower route of FE3H. That's the only route where Byleth doesn't become archbishop-slash-dictator, and I think choosing to live life in a small cottage, not particularly contributing too much to the government, builds nicely upon the themes of becoming human and choosing your own destiny, themes that are really missing from the other routes.

15. WIPs you want to finish but doubt you ever will? My old AO3 account (a couple FE3H fics and not much else) has a series where I wrote the beginning of a fic and then had several different endings planned, each a different ship with Linhardt, but I only ever wrote one. I'd love to read the rest but I have too many other fics calling my name!

16. Writing strengths? Um... Volume and speed? Also AUs. I think I can call myself good at fitting characters into new settings. Also fight scenes are fun and I think I do them well.

17. Writing weaknesses? I feel somewhat weak in the plotting and style realms.

18. Thoughts on mixed language dialogue? You can't count on a reader to know not-tagged languages, so that has to be accounted for in the text.

19. First fandom you wrote for? Danny Phantom, in high school or maybe just after. That's late for a lot of fic writers but... there are reasons for that, and a different discussion!!

20. Favorite fic you've ever written? This is an extremely rude question, because I love so many for different reasons. I write things I want to read!! Counterbalance (for the tone) and Blood-Sucker's Guide (for the finished novel plot) are up there but I linked them above, so I'll take the chance to call out a different few—Marvelous Misadventures is way up there, a Wind-focused modern with magic AU. I promise I'm still working on that last chapter (and the epilogue), I just gotta throw everything else aside one month and buckle down. Maybe June, I don't have any fic events planned and 06/23 was the last update. I think some earlier chapters need a refresh as well, once I have the ending written.

I'll also toss White Walls (medwhump, "non consensual body modification: the fic") into this category for how long it is and how proud I am to have finished even a collection this long, and a long walk, a Linked Nexus fic where I did so much math and had so much fun with it. :D

Tagging: @silvrash-797 @toyouhellohowareyou @nopenototdaysatan @skyward-floored :)

[gaydexvocaloid]

VFLOWER YURI DIVORCE SONG!! 💥 🥀

[accirax]

🌟🍬🤖🎈Congrats to Wonderlands x Showtime for finishing their 4x4!🌟🍬🤖🎈

[crueldudethesis]

ʃ THE END .

ʅ old art from a few weeks back.

[kastillia]

[martyryo]

his biggest sin was having blue hair and pronouns.