#thank you Bo!!

[voidthewanderer]

from the philosphy prompt, dealer's choice on who it's for:

♔ — Does your muse believe people are innately good or innately bad? Why do they believe this? ♖ — Do people, in your muse’s opinion, ever really change? Do they believe themselves to be capable of changing? ♙ — How hypocritical is your muse? If they can be hypocritical, do they realize this about themselves? How do they reconcile with it?

@bokatan || ❇️ life philosophy headcanons

Ohhh, I’ll answer this when I get home! And then proceeds to not touch it for like three days. Rather fitting for one of these prompts, not gonna lie. Putting under a cut for length. Gotta say, the first one made me think, especially with Crow just for wording.

♔ — Does your muse believe people are innately good or innately bad? Why do they believe this?

Ripper: He doesn’t believe this, mostly because of his years as a doctor. He’s had to help a wide variety of people, including those who were being treated after being arrested from having shootouts. It was quite surprising how often people confessed to doing certain crimes to protect someone they cared about. He quickly learned and took to heart that sometimes people are just put into shitty situations and have to do shitty things in order to survive.

Arsenic: He struggles with what he believes in with this. While he knows that there is no truly good or truly bad person, he also watched his own parents, self proclaimed “innately good” people verbally accost people they believed were “innately bad” for not following their beliefs. Having been raised by people who did believe in it and knowing that they were in the wrong, he does have some conflicting feelings about it.

Crow: They’re a difficult one to answer for this. They’re in the same boat as both Ripper and Arsenic; they know there’s no black and white answer to good and bad. With them being an observer type, they’ve seen raider groups comforting one another after another death within their ranks. But, they’ve also had guns in their face for simply passing through a “we accept all” settlement all because of their being a ghoul.

♖ — Do people, in your muse’s opinion, ever really change? Do they believe themselves to be capable of changing?

Ripper: He believes that people can both change and that he is also capable of it. Sometimes people don’t know any better and there’s so many reasons why. Sometimes someone just needs a change of environment or social structure to be able to achieve that change.

Arsenic: Considering he’s the poster child for change, he absolutely does believe he can. After all, how does someone who was only interested in one night stands go to a closed monogamous relationship where they’re engaged and laments the fact that he can’t be a biological father to a child after being almost vehemently opposed to having children in the past? As for other people changing; it truly depends on the person. He does believe if someone is deep rooted into something; they’re less likely to.

Crow: Same as Ripper, believes people can change and knows they change as well. They’re in the same boat with Arsenic; having sworn off dating and relationships after one shitty one. Now engaged to someone they love and also sort of laments that they can’t really have a traditional family with Arsenic. This being said; they expect to see people change, not just say they’re going to.

♙ — How hypocritical is your muse? If they can be hypocritical, do they realize this about themselves? How do they reconcile with it?

Ripper: Can be fairly hypocritical, especially in their belief of power and whether or not one person should hold it. He knows people in power can sometimes devolve into abusing it and he’ll do whatever necessary to prevent that from happening… thus putting him into that position of power that he despises. He doesn’t realize that he’s hypocritical about it though; mostly because he’s not doing it for the power, but to prevent the abuse of it happening.

Arsenic: Knows he’s hypocritical and, quite frankly? Doesn’t care. As long as he doesn’t hurt his relationship with Crow.

Crow: Tries not to be, but it happens. They’re rather aware of their actions and will feel bad when they do wind up doing something hypocritical; no matter how superficial it is. They’re definitely on the “inconsistency hypocrisy” side of things.

[gatorlovebot]

gator!!! 🍓 & 🎲? ily! (ohbo)

bo my beloved <3

🍓 ⇢ how did you get into writing fanfiction?

i think i started writing fanfiction before i even knew what fanfiction was. i used to watch professional wrestling a lot as a kid (not so much anymore) and i used to imagine myself as a wrestler and what it would be like to date the wrestlers i liked lol. i vividly remember writing self insert fic in a physical notebook when i was like 11 LOL

🎲 ⇢ what stops you from writing more in your free time? 

every time i go to sit down to write i feel like there's something wrong with my brain (there isn't) because i struggle so much to get the words out onto the page. when t hat happens i get very discouraged and try to distract myself with something else. not a really good habit i've gotten myself into because i used to love writing and it came to me pretty well so that's definitely something i want to work on.

[speyerboot]

[livindeadgirlgrav]

Hi, i was wondering if you could do a Michael Myers, Otis driftwood, The sinclair twins and The grabber x Reader, but the Reader is kidnapped or is cornered by them, and with no options left, they Surprise attack with a smooch!!!

Of course!! Thank you for the request! Also I love your profile pic its so cute!

Warning: Violence, slashers, kidnapped, kinda NSFW, blood, gore, slasher things, overpowered, mature themes, Stockholm syndrome,

Michael Myers

Since Michael has kidnapped you, you have become use to him towering over you and corning you but he usually would turn around and leave after a few minutes but today he wasn't moving a muscle. In fact he kept getting closer to you. Forcing you to back up into the wall. Starring at him you watched him become inches away from you, lowering down to become inches from your face. Forcing you to stare into his dead eyes through the eye holes of his mask your eyes glanced down at the lips of the mask and before you knew it you threw your arms around his neck and smashed your lips onto his. You held onto him tightly as he sprung up faster then his typically movements. Michael quickly grabbed your arms forcing you to let go. As your feet hit the floor your furrowed your eyebrows at him, upset at the lose of contact. Michael quickly left the room, he was more confused than he had ever been.

Otis Driftwood

You had been stuck in Otis's bedroom since the first day he kidnapped you. Otis has tortured you for weeks now, but it wasn't as bad as what you seen him do to other victims within the house. Besides you were the only victim in his bed now...which is scary by itself. Today was like any other, you woke up chained to an empty bed. Sitting up you rubbed your sleepless eyes and pulled at the doll like dress he forced you to wear. You hated it, it was short and itchy but it was better then being naked all the time. Your head shot towards the door as you heard him barge in carrying a unconscious girl in his arms. You sat up on your knees looking to see who the girl was. "Who is she?" You asked a bit demanding. Otis shot his head up at you. "A new pet.." You widened your eyes and quickly stood up on the bed and shook your head. "No! Get her out of here!" You shouted. Otis chuckled a bit watching you before turning and placing the girl on a chair, tying her up. "Otis get her out of here." You demanded stepping down off the bed. Before you knew it Otis grabbed your throat and forced you back onto the bed. Falling down you caught yourself on your elbows. "Now listen mama, I don't rightly care for your attitude." He stated shaking you a bit. "Maybe I need to remind you about your place here hm?" He asked but seeing that his threats weren't phasing you made him more mad. Otis pulled his bloody knife out from its holster on his hip but before he could do or say anything you grabbed his hair by one of your hands using the other to balance yourself on the bed. Pulling him down quickly you smashing your lips onto his. Otis didn't pull away he chuckled into your kiss as he kissed you back roughly. Before you knew it your dress was being cut off with his bloody knife. Once your dress was off he pushed his knife onto your neck. "Come on mama, lets finish what you started." He stated as he ushered to his belt with his free hand. Quickly nodded you did exactly what he wanted, your fingers undid his belt with ease. Otis was a bit shocked by your eagerness but he wasn't about to stop you anytime soon. But he did know one thing your lips were much sweeter when you kissed him willingly.

Vincent Sinclair

Vincent favored you ever since you rode into town. He actually thought you would have wanted his twin brother more than him but when he saw you running into the wax museum trying to hide within his work he felt a sense of happiness he had been searching for. So when he came out of hiding, gently pushing you into a corner of the museum, smiling a bit to himself when you didn't shout out a blood curling scream. "Help me." You stated softly starring at his waxy face. Vincent tilted his head in confusion. Weren't you scared of him? Vincent grabbed your hand and pulled you into another room then through a door and down the wax steps. Pulling you into his workshop. Luckily there wasn't any projects down there at the time. "You make them?" You asked softly as you looked around. Vincent stared at you before walking closer towards you. "T-That man out there is trying to kill me.." You stated as you watched the man. Vincent pointed to himself. Shaking your head you stated. "No, not you. The mechanic, I think his name is.." You stopped trying to think before you knew it you were pushed against the wall. "Hey?" you stated looking at the man. "I'm sorry, thank you for helping me." You stated before kissing the man's waxy cheek. Vincent quickly backed up and stared at you. Starring back you watched him point towards a bed within the corner. Nodding you walked towards the bed and sat down as you watched the man nearly trip up the stairs and slamming the door.

Bo Sinclair

Bo chased you down and jumped on you like he's down countless times to several different victims. The more you squirmed the more he liked it. He flung your small figure over his shoulder and carried you into his shop and down to his little makeshift dungeon. Bo slammed you down into the chair in the center of the room and was surprised when you didn't fight back or tried to get up and run. Regardless Bo still tied you down with duck tape. You breathed deeply trying your best to calm yourself down. Bo quickly grabbed your jaw and forced you to stare at him causing you to whimper a bit. Bo smirked a bit as he stared down at your lips. "Look at the way those lips curve." he stated in his deep country accent. Without thought you leaned up and smashed your lips onto his, Bo didn't stop you and didn't push away he simply kissed you back a bit rougher then you were. As you pulled away Bo bit your bottom lip and tugged it a bit before letting go and pulling away. He watched you lay your back down against the chair, once again Bo smirked and chuckled. "Don't you worry darling we'll get there. Just gotta be patient girly." His words made your face heat up turning your glace away from him, he chuckled and stood straight. You eyes wondered you him, watching him grab his keys and head to the door. But before closing said door he glanced up at you with the most lust filled eyes you've ever seen. You knew exactly what was gonna happen once he got back but for once you were excited to see him come back.

The Grabber

Sitting on the mattress you stared at the door. Today was the day you knew it. You knew you had to get out of there. Feeling yourself slipping into what felt like madness. You were so strongly conflicted, you despised your captor but in another light you were weirdly attracted to him. You liked the way his hair framed his masked face, you enjoyed the way his fingers moved and how comforting his presence could be. You picked at the skin on your fingers thinking about how soft his lips were before being interrupted by the sound of the door unlocking and opening. You watched him walk in with a tray of food. The same as always eggs and a soda. "I made you some breakfast." He said like every other day. You nodded and walked over towards him. He looked down at you, watching how your eyes glanced at the stairs behind him. He tilted his head a bit. You could have swore he read your thoughts because as soon as you darted behind him he dropped the tray and grabbed you up. But to his surprise you didn't fight him or scream. He growled and walked towards the mattress but as he tried to throw you down he noticed how you hung onto him. He pried your hands off of him. "Stop! Don't!" You shouted as you fell to the bed but you quickly grabbed his shirt pulling him down a bit just to wrap your arms around his neck and smash your lips onto the masked lips. Kissing him you didn't care that it wasn't his actually lips. This was still him and you loved it. The grabber was taken back but he let you kiss the lips of his mask. Once you stopped and pulled away looking at his blueish brown eyes. "Don't leave me." You stated as you hugged him. Albert furrowed his brows but he let you hug him placing a hand on your back.

__________________________________________

Wellll thank you for reading! And I hope you guys enjoyed! I loved this request! Thank you again for it! 🖤🖤

[visceravalentines]

small town, sunday night

Bo Sinclair x AFAB!Reader

a discarded scene from a longer fic. Bo's pretty sure by now you know who you belong to, but he oughta make sure, just in case. on ao3 here if you wanna.

2.4k words. porn with plot if you squint. extremely dubious consent. Stockholm syndrome. forced exhibitionism, voyeurism, vaginal fingering, emotional manipulation. tried out something new where the narration is written more in Bo's voice and i'm interested to see if that works for you or nah so lmk.

The whole family’s gathered in the den on a Sunday night. It ain’t tradition, not really, it’s just that if everyone’s gonna get together it’s gonna be on Sunday. 

Nobody felt like cookin’ and he don’t trust you ‘round the knives yet, so Les picked up some fried chicken from the Kroger and Bo said grace and you behaved yourself like a nice young lady, and now everybody’s sittin’ in front of the television drinkin’ beer and watchin’ football like some kinda all-American family. 

He’s got you sat on his lap in a sundress that belonged to some other bitch before you. It don’t fit you right, barely covers your ass, but that’s fine by him. His brothers keep eyeing you like you’re the skin mag by the cash register. He'll let ‘em look; in fact, he wants them to look. Plus it freaks you out, makes you press yourself against his chest in search of protection and boy, if that don’t make him wanna laugh out loud. He’s all too happy to oblige, wrappin’ you in his arms and whisperin’ sweet sugary bullshit in your ear. You’re servin’ yourself up to him on a silver platter and you don’t even realize it. 

He snags the six-pack off the side table and hands it to you, watches you wrestle a beer from the plastic ring and pop the tab for him without being asked. 

“Good girl,” he says, and kisses your cheek when he takes the can from you. You're bein’ such an angel today that it’s got him nostalgic for that bitch with the bad attitude. He wonders if she's gone for good or if he could dig around in that pretty head of yours and find her. “You want one?” 

You hesitate. He watches you do the math. You know by now you can’t get somethin’ for nothin’, but apparently you think you got plenty to give because you nod quietly. 

“G’on.”  He dangles the six-pack in front of you and lets you pick one for yourself. He watches the way you set your lips on the rim of the can, watches your throat bob as you swallow. Your gaze shifts uncertainly to him and he winks at you. You almost—almost—give him a shaky little smile. 

You adjust yourself in his lap, tug on your dress, try to get comfortable. He rests his chin on your shoulder and waits for you to settle. He likes the smell of his soap on your skin, even if it makes him miss the animal stench of you from before. Bringin’ you home was a good call. You clean up sweet and so far you’ve been learnin’ your lessons real well. Shit, he’s almost proud of you. 

Once you’ve mellowed out, sippin’ on your beer and pretendin’ this is where you wanna be, he slides his hand up your thigh, fingertips twitching at the hem of your skirt. He watches you frown and glance down at his hand and then back up at the TV like you think you can ignore him. He pushes your skirt up an inch or so and bites back a smirk when you shift and squeeze your knees together, shooting an anxious glance in the direction of his brothers. 

“Somethin’ wrong, baby?” he whispers. You answer with your eyes, give him this pleading look that makes him want to tear that dress off you right here, right now. “You’re alright. Watch the game.” 

Reluctantly, you turn back to the TV with this blank expression on your face that tells him he has your full attention. He moves his hand between your legs and gives your waist a hard squeeze when you stiffen. When you glance at him again he treats you to an ice-cold smile. 

This is a test, girl. Better hope you got a shot at passin'.

You’re bare beneath the dress ‘cause what would you need panties for, and he worms his hand between your thighs until his fingers find that soft, warm center of you. You jerk like a mare tryin’ to shake off a fly, but you don’t make a sound. He probes until his middle finger slips like silk into your slit almost up to the second knuckle and Jesus, girl, you’re so wet it makes his mouth water. This is why he never listens to you, because you don’t even know that you’re lying when you do it. 

He eases his finger out of you and back in deeper, watches your lips part but no sound come out. He does it again and your lashes flutter like a doll’s. You’re sittin’ still as a statue for now but he’s gonna break you. Promise. 

“You been so good, baby girl,” he murmurs into the shell of your ear. His thumb prods at your clit and you strangle the life out of a gasp as it tries to sneak into the room. “Wanna make sure you know how much I appreciate you behavin’ yourself.” He rubs that sweet spot in lazy circles and savors the way your back arches slow, so slow, tryin’ so hard to keep it a secret that he’s finger-fucking you ten feet from his family. 

You think they don’t know, huh?  You think they don’t see you’re nothin’ but a slut?  Maybe you oughta think a little less.

You get that look on your face like you’re determined to take back control of yourself but you belong to him, girl, that body is his. When he pushes another finger into your pussy your toes curl on the arm of the chair and this little moan makes it out alive and both his brothers were raised huntin’ so they know what a creature in distress sounds like and all the sudden, you’re the Sunday evening special. 

“Well looky here,” Les says, and wolf whistles. 

Your eyes go wide and you cover your face with your hands and Bo can’t help it, he breaks into a grin. He thought he’d wrung all the shame right outta you by now, but apparently he thought wrong. 

You peer over your fingers at him with tear-filled eyes and this time, you might just be cryin’ for real. You look so betrayed it makes him sick, makes him wish he could take it back just so he can do it to you again. 

“’S alright, baby, they’re just lookin’,” he coos.

“We are most certainly lookin’,” Les agrees, and ordinarily Bo would smack him, but the way your lip quivers makes his dick twitch. 

“Pretend they ain’t even here,” he says low in your ear. “Unless you like that sorta thing. You like bein’ watched, honey?  You some kinda slut?”

He already knows the answer even if you don’t. He can tell by the way that sweet little cunt keeps spasin’ around his fingers like somethin’ dying. And you don’t deny it, just keep beggin’ him to stop with those big doe eyes. He don't gotta work hard to pull your focus back to that ache between your hips. All it takes is a little spit on his thumb, a little less friction on that poor swollen clit, and you’re melting in his hands. 

“I’m just showin’ ‘em, baby,” he whispers. “Just makin’ sure they know you’re mine.” 

He collects your wrists with his free hand and pulls them down to expose your face. You make a sound, some kinda protest, but you don’t fight him off like you used to. That girl’s been buried six feet deep inside you and you’re all that’s markin’ her grave. 

“Hey Vince. Do me a favor?”  Bo tosses his head towards the camera sitting on the coffee table where he left it, a brand-new roll of film ready and waitin’ inside. His twin snatches it up without question and puts his goddamn gift to good use. 

You’re fightin’ it hard, makin’ him work for it, but he knows your body better than you do by now. When you cum, you try to hide it, bitin’ your lip and screwin’ up your face. But you can’t keep that pussy from grippin’ him tight, throbbin’ like your life depends on it. You squeeze his hand. A whine sneaks out of your throat and he catches it in his mouth, swallows it whole, savors it to the last.

You slump against his chest, let your head roll into the hollow of his shoulder because it's got nowhere else to go. You're soakin’ his shirt, soakin’ his hand. You're made of water, girl. Maybe that's why you make him so goddamn thirsty. 

“Well she’s a delight,” Les says, slaps his thighs, stands up. “I'm gonna head home ‘n jerk off unless you gents need anything.”

He has the gall to reach for one of the Polaroids Vince is layin’ out on the coffee table like playing cards and Bo hisses through his teeth. 

“Leave it. I ain't handin’ out souvenirs.”

Les rolls his eyes and slinks off like a stray mutt. Vincent looks for a second like he might make a case for himself, but thinks better of it and rightly so. He hands Bo the stack of photos and creeps back downstairs where he belongs and now it's just you and him and the TV static. 

You're stiff as a board in his arms but you're clingin’ to his shirt with all you got so which is it, woman? He kisses your temple and starts shufflin’ through the pictures. Mama's favorite son ain't immune to the charms of the pornographic and most of them center on the view up your skirt, the curve of your ass, your juice shinin’ on his knuckles. 

But there's one, just one, of your face lookin’ up at him. With these big, round eyes fixed on him and your hands cupped together in front of your chest. You look like you're prayin’, girl. Like you're worshiping him. 

He licks his lips, looks down at you. You’re starin’ straight ahead into space, head on his chest, tits swellin’ against the bodice of that dress as you breathe deep in and out. He can tell you're searchin’ for the way back to that place you used to go, safe and warm without him. 

You can't find it. It ain't there anymore. All you got is what you got.

“Can we go to bed?” 

He’s surprised you’re speakin’ to him. Your voice is low and rough from the tears. You don't look at him until he tucks his finger beneath your chin and tilts your face up. There's somethin’ bright and broken in your eyes like glass. 

“Please.”

He hates givin’ you what you want, doesn't want you gettin’ the wrong idea about who's in control here. He can't be spoilin’ you any more than he already has. But he prizes that look of relief and gratitude you give him when he's generous. That little furrow between your brows that melts away when he's good to you. 

“Sure, baby.”

There it is. You slump against him beneath the force of your relief and fuck you for the way his hands move to hold you without him thinkin’ about it. 

He don't carry you to bed. You're not a goddamn princess no matter what you might think of yourself. But you drop that dress that ain't yours to the floor and crawl naked into his sheets and when he climbs into bed beside you, you inch your way over ‘til you're pressed up against his ribs. 

He can barely hear you breathin’. You're hardly even there. The old you would be rippin’ into his stomach, thrashin’ fit to snap your own spine. This new bitch, though, she’s manageable. Sweet, even. 

Probably you don't mean for him to hear it but something like a sob sneaks out of you and it gives him butterflies. He rolls onto his side and slings his arm around you. 

“Don't cry, now. You're alright.”

You shrink into him, make yourself small and bite-sized. You need him so bad and he knows it, figures you’re startin’ to figure it out too. What would you do without me, huh?

“Was I too mean, baby?” You choke on those tears and he bites his lip. “I'm sorry…you forgive me?”

You whimper, can't commit. It ain't your fault you're stuck tryin’ to make sense of it all, ‘specially with him feelin’ you up like he is. He can't keep a straight face, grinnin’ into the back of your neck. “I just got carried away, showin’ off my girl.” He pushes his hips against your ass. “You are my girl, right?”

A breath shudders through your body. You arch your back, don't even know you're doin’ it. He wraps his hand around your throat like a collar, nice and snug, squeezes just a little to get you back on course. “I asked you a question. You got an answer for me?”

“Yes,” you whisper. 

“Yes what?”

“Yes, I'm your girl.”

Your voice breaks and whew, he's got blood rushin’ every which way. “Tell me you forgive me.”  

You don’t respond. He tightens his grip just beneath your jaw, brings his lips to your ear. 

“Fuckin’ answer me, huh?  You forgive me?  I gotta hear it, baby doll, or I’ll be up all night.”  

His fingers dig into your flesh. He can feel you shaking like a leaf in the wind with fear or fury or something else he can put to use. He’s grindin’ against that ass, just about ready to flip you facedown and fuck the sense back into you, when you finally give him what he wants. 

He always gets what he wants, baby. Haven’t you figured that out by now?  

“I forgive you,” you rasp, and he loosens his grip and feels your tits press against his arm as you suck in air. 

“Ain’t you sweet,” he says, and he presses a kiss to the side of your head, and when he rolls back an inch or two you scoot right along with him until your back is flush to his chest again, and that’s fuckin’ hilarious, huh?  Just can’t get enough. 

He lays in the dark and feels your breath on his knuckles, feels it hitch, feels it slow, feels it mellow out and go feather-soft, and before he knows it, he’s out like a light. 

You wear him the fuck out, girl. 

[bluebirds-stuff]

Tang bo return au inspired by ge's and azu1as Tangchung arranged marriage au

Something Something happens and chung myung ends up needing to be (faked) married for a short awhile so the tang family offers the hand of a distant tang cousin who's been making waves in the cultivation world and getting stronger during the last 3 years (*note that this is after cm is 21 ) who seems to REALLY hate the demonic cult and the great sects who won't meet each other until the wedding day

Now on the outsider pov we have people up and down making sure everything is doing good on said wedding night , and it is ..... except for the fact that said wedding grooms seem to be late for THEIR OWN WEDDING

Thankfully the mount hua disciplines see their youngest coming, not so Thankfully he's coming covered in blood dragging a (dead or unconscious ? ) demonic cult member and all of you are worrying about the poor groom who doesn't deserve to be tied down to this heart attack inducing menace ,except the groom ALSO Shows up covered in blood dragging a (also dead or unconscious ?! ) body without a care in the world, then all of you see your youngest FREEZE at the site of him as if he saw the dead coming back to life he did

And the tang groom freezes too and whispers in awe and confusion " taoist hyung-nime!? "

The crazy bastards proceed to drop the bodies and launch at each other with desperation

And all of you are hit with a horrible gut feeling that this isn't going to be a "fake" wedding after all .

[emilyartstudio-s]

it’s not

[reading-is-an-escape]

Doom at Your Service: he need to hold her hand every day before midnight to recharge her so she won't feel pain from her brain tumor.

My Demon: he need to hold her wrist to use his power since his tattoo (the source of his power) is now on her wrist. Ergo, if he doesn't hold her wrist, he cannot access his demon power.

So, these 2 dramas have similar vibes, but different mechanism on how this holding hand/wrist works. And believe me, I ache for BOTH.

[azu1as]

Hi, Tin! I love your writing and I have a prompt for you, if you are interested) what if Tang family is too afraid of Tang Bo leaving permanently and eloping with Cheong Myeong? So they initiate marriage negotiations with Mount Hua. It can be angst (CM is socially isolated and insecure about his position) or romantic comedy (awkward situations and protective Cheong Mun), up to you). Thank you in advance!

It was a well-established fact that the Dark Saint of the Tang Family was one of their generation's best.

So it came as no surprise when an influx of marriage proposals flooded their family's estate—because rumors started flying around that the Dark Saint was in search of a partner.

The Dark Saint held a reputation for being cold and ruthless. To cultivators and martial artists, he was someone they feared making into an enemy due to his sheer battle prowess and poisonous abilities. To normal civilians, he was a genius who wielded the Tang Family's techniques with cool precision and intent; to them, he was just another mysterious cultivator that they would only ever know of through gossip and stories.

However, in recent years, something shifted. His reputation among common folk was slowly altered. It started off with a supposed battle between him and the Plum Blossom Sword Saint which turned into a sudden and unexpected friendship.

Whereas in the past the Dark Saint would only go around Sichuan and closeby villages, he was now found going around different major cities and unknown ones.

He was often in the company of Mount Hua's Plum Blossom Sword Saint, who worked with him side-by-side to eradicate groups from the Demonic Cult and the occasional bandits and thieves.

For supposed Taoists, the two visited different establishments to drink alcohol and talk cheerily. It was during one of these moments that the first rumor began its spark.

"Ahhhh," The Plum Blossom Sword Saint groans in satisfaction. "That sure hits the spot!"

The Dark Saint chuckles as he tosses back his own drink. "If only I could enjoy everyday like this. Alcohol really is the best."

"What would your future wife think?" The Plum Blossom Sword Saint jokingly and dramatically shakes his head in disappointment. "To have a husband who loves alcohol more than his own wife...!"

The Dark Saint wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. "Trust me, I would make sure that my wife knows full-well just how much I love them."

The two of them share a silent, private conversation with just their eyes alone, that none of the other restaurant's customers could decipher, before they leave a generous tip and went on their way.

It snowballs from there.

All of a sudden gossip went around about the Dark Saint's interest in finding a wife. And so several people came to the same conclusion.

The reason why the Dark Saint is travelling around more than usual is because he's looking for a prospective wife.

Clearly, the Plum Blossom Sword Saint was there to provide moral support. How truly admirable and strong their brotherhood must be!

On the other hand, the head of the Tang Family was fully aware of their Dark Saint's single-minded interest in Mount Hua's Chung Myung.

Seeing all the stacks of letters that ranged from proposing strategic alliances and general marriage offers brought the current head of the Tang Family to a very different conclusion.

Tang Bo was trying to slowly draw himself away from their family by leaving their estate. He might be on the hunt, jumping from village to village, trying to create a dowry befitting for the hand of the Plum Blossom Sword Saint and scouting out all the best locations to settle down in.

It really wouldn't be too surprising of an idea if one day a letter turns up from the man with an intent of permanently moving to Mount Hua or some backwater village.

The Tang Family head shakes the thought of losing one of their best and genius members to one of the Ten Great Sects. If he wanted to maintain their family's reputation, he'll need to strike the first move.

And so he begins to pen a decisive letter to the Sect Leader of Mount Hua.

%%%

Chung Mun's hands tremble as reads the letter sent to him by the Tang Family.

'Who did they think they were?' He would have bit out if he had any less self-restraint. The paper crumples in his grip and he receives a questioning glance from Chung Myung who was sprawled eating mooncakes on the opposite side of his desk.

"What's got you so worked up?" The subject of the letter askswithout a care.

Chung Mun takes a deep breath. "The Tang Family wishes for you to transfer into their estate."

He refuses to say out loud the marriage proposal that came along with this request. His Chung Myung was too young! The man might be a sixty years old, but that round face, cheeks carelessly bulging with mooncakes with crumbs littered on his chin, screamed too young for marriage!

"Oh." Chung Myung nods in understanding.

Chung Mun is glad that Chung Myung agrees that this was nonsensical. To think, they thought that Chung Myung would even leave Mount Hua for—

"After the war is over, Tang Bo and I were planning to be roommates and travel the world a bit."

—?????

"Roommates?" Chung Mun's voices comes out slightly strangled.

"Yup. It's going to be great."

"No."

"'No'?"

Chung Mun tries to run through his previous conversations with Tang Bo. He knew that the man was capable of being underhanded, but he was also well-aware that Tang Bo respected him enough to not blind-side him with something like this. Especially since it concerned Chung Myung.

...

...Oh no.

"Fuck." Chung Mun says, full of feeling as he recalls Tang Bo off-handedly asking permission to live together with Chung Myung in the future.

"...Sect Leader?"

Chung Mun had thought that was a joke! He thought Tang Bo wasn't being serious! They were talking with alcohol in their systems!

The alarmed look that crosses Chung Myung's face informed Chung Mun that the way he felt his blood drain from his face was a visible, physical reaction.

"He asked for your hand in marriage." Chung Mun says faintly. "I said yes."

Chung Myung blinked at him. "Yeah? He told me?"

Okay. Tang Bo, to his credit, hasn't been leaving Chung Myung in the dark at least.

If Chung Myung knows and isn't reacting violently that means that he isn't completely against this. Even if Chung Mun was, he had to reorganize his priorties.

And his number one would be to make sure Chung Myung was happy.

((And to make sure that the Tang Family doesn't think they can step on Chung Mun and pull his little brother away.))

"I'll have to recheck the sect's budget and my own savings to make sure we have enough for the wedding preparations..." Chung Mun mutters as he begins drafting a response to the Tang Family with what he thought were better marriage agreement conditions.

But then, a flash of dread causes Chung Mun to pause writing and leave a dark ink blot on the paper. He suspected, but he really wishes that he was wrong—!

"Huh?" Chung Myung gives Chung Mun a confused look. "We already got married though?"

[three-headed-monster]

back to camp!

[voidthewanderer]

2, 3, & 13 from this ask? for whichever ocs you feel like answering for

Well damn, I didn't see you'd sent this to me! I'll answer for all three because why not! Long post will be long.

Where did your muse grow up? What was their home like? Did they like where they grew up?

Crow: Crow was born and raised in Sussex County, New Jersey. They lived in Vernon for the majority of their life, to be exact; their family only moving to Sussex Borough when they were in their late teens. They certainly didn't mind it; with their younger siblings living much more active lifestyles, they found themself in parks a lot just getting to enjoy the outdoors and getting to go on hikes to discover new places to just relax and unwind. Their home life was decent, fairly standard for the typical "we understand you want to be different, but we're not calling you a boy or using a ridiculous name for you" from their parents. It was stressful, but not unbearable.

Ripper: He was born and raised in Atlantic City. He definitely thrived in city life and loved the non-stop nature of it all. The lights, the glitz and the glam. He loved it. The flashiness of it all did seem to reflect a bit in his personality, loving to be the center of attention, a shining star among everything. His family life was actually fairly decent up, sans some issues involving food. Once his grandmother was no longer able to cook, his parents quickly realized "oh shit, we never learned" and that was the start of his strained relationship with them.

Arsenic: Born in Watertown, NY; his family lived in Cape Vincent. He hated it there; there was nothing to do. It's a tourist town, through and through. Once that season ended, most everywhere shortened their hours. He never really enjoyed being around his family; they were the vicarious "we want to live through you" type. His mother was an additional evangelical flavor on top of that. It wasn't pleasant; that's for sure. It made him start acting out young; though he didn't get into particularly bad things until he was in his late teens.

What did your muse's family look like? Parents, grandparents? Big or small? Who was around the house when your muse was a kid?

Crow: They had a fairly large family, at least for the area. Their immediate family was their parents and two younger siblings. All grandparents were in the picture until they were in their late teens when they lost their grandmother and grandfather on their father's side from old age. They were definitely the obvious family at any sort of outing that involved their siblings and any of the sports they did; as it had their three aunts and uncles from either side of the family there as well. They were a family unit type; everybody has to do everything together.

Ripper: He was a single child and his household was just him, his parents, and his grandmother (father's mother). He'd lost his grandfather (father's father) when he was young and his other grandparents had decided to move back to Italy, not enjoying life in America. His much smaller family was made up for by the many, many friends he made along the way whom he loved like brothers and sisters. And he'd started dating Amelia while in high school, so it had seemed like she'd be around for the long run as well; occasionally being called the "future daughter-in-law".

Arsenic: Also a single child, though his household was just him and his parents. This was made up for by his many uncles, cousins, and their family. His mother had four brothers and his father had three. His parents loved to push the "perfect family" dynamic; especially with the extended family being around so often. Though, he knew most of the family secrets and they most certainly were not the perfect family people wanted to look up to.

What did your muse want to be when they grew up? Did they have any childhood dreams, and have they achieved them?

Crow: They wanted to do wildlife conservation. Anything that involved being outdoors. If not that, then to open up a cafe for people who just didn't like the daily grind. A place where people like them could go and just relax and recharge. In a way, they achieved something more, having been able to sustain an apartment on a part time job, their art, and living with a roommate. They didn't have to work 40+ hours a week just to make ends meet and that was the most that they'd wanted in life.

Ripper: He wanted to be on the stage; somewhere he could get attention. Having always been musically inclined, he hoped that maybe he could be a musician; though that dream would have never actually flown well with his parents. He did wind up getting to have the attention and love that he so desired in ways that he didn't even think about with his kids and his found family. Sure, he did become very public eye for a short while, but it wasn't for a good reason and it knocked him to reality that being in the limelight isn't all that it's cracked up to be.

Arsenic: Unfortunately, he really didn't have any ambitions growing up. If you asked him as a child what he wanted to be, he'd give a generic answer that all the other kids did: a doctor, a lawyer, a vet. But when asked why? He would just shrug. None of that stuff actually interested him, but he really didn't get to have an interactive or imaginative childhood. Everything was always just planned out for him and if he tried to deviate from that path, he'd be punished. Though, I suppose he did wind up having the greatest achievement he didn't realize he needed: finding someone who loves him for who he is and who lets him be himself.

[ohbo-ohno]

blatantly inspired by tlou but currently thinking about a zombie apocalypse au where reader is lost and alone, no one to help her and no clue where to go, and she stumbles into this random trap in the forest, ends up in a pit in the ground. she just sits down there feeling sorry for herself cause she thinks there’s no way she’ll ever survive now that she’s trapped with no way out :(

and then here comes ghost, checking to see what set off one of his traps and he sees a pretty little thing, teary and dirt-covered. she’s clearly helpless without him, and he might be a little heartless but he’s not just gonna leave her down there to starve. so he helps her out and takes her back to his base <3

[emry-stars-oc]

I’ve been wanting to do @icannotreadcursive ‘s oc-tober prompt list but I have very little extra time to devote to it, so I’ll probably take my oc-tober into the rest of the year as well lol

But Day 11’s prompt was “in a different world/setting” so I took the excuse to finally draw Q and Bo as garden fairies :) Bo is a little moth prince and Q is a butterfly prince perpetually clad in blue, as is his wont

[livindeadgirlgrav]

Are they ass, tits or thigh’s for Vincent Sinclair and Charles lee ray (seperetly) with fem reader

It can be as filthy as you want

Ooooooooo okay! This is definitely going to be fun! Alsoooo this is my first time writing for Charles lee ray!! I'll try not to disappoint

Warning: NSFW! violence, bad language, kidnapped, Stockholm syndrome, just evil slasher men lol, mature themes/content. 18+, filthyyyyy👀👀 nastttyyyyyy

Vincent Sinclair

Vinny is an everything man. He loves you for you buuuuuut if he did have to pick a favorite its probably a tie between your thighs and breast.

Vincent enjoys holding your thigh when he sits beside you. He will consistently grip your thighs and rub his thumb across your smooth skin. Now when you two are alone Vincent loves to kiss up and down your thighs, occasionally nipping at your skin.

When it comes to your breast Vincent loves to grope them. He loves how soft and squishy they are under his rough hands.

He will definitely suck your breast hard, leaving hickeys all over your chest. He enjoys playing with your nipples and seeing how you gasp when he tugs on your nipples with his teeth.

Secretly this man is very kinky. He very much enjoys sitting on top of you, ripping your T-shirt off to reveal your soft chest. He'll pin your arms above you head but if you move he is quick to tie them down with a rag. Once your hands are out of the way he'll grab one of the many candles within his room and drip the hot wax onto your delicate breast, down your stomach, and on your inner thigh.

Vincent loves to fuck your breast, he enjoys the softness and loves to look down at you, watching you please him in such a way turns him on even more.

When you two are having sex, Vincent loves to have your legs on his shoulders. He loves gripping onto your thighs and having the options to bite and kiss them while he thrust into you.

Vincent also loves to use your thighs to push himself deeper into you. And trust he loves pushing your legs above your head thrusting deeper into you, watching your face scrunch up in pleasure.

Vincent tends to forget how tight he holds onto your thighs and breast so at the end of the night you are typically left with a couple finger prints and bruises.

Vincent loves it when you go bra less, its easier for him to run his hands up your shirt and tug at your breast but it's definitely hard to keep his attention for all of it goes to your freed breast.

His favorite position is cowgirl; He loves watching your breast bounce up and down while he rubs your thighs, occasionally gripping them hard enough to leave marks. He also loves to warm his cock within you as he sucks your breast but trust he wont leave the other one unattended, his hand will quickly tug at your nipples and grope at your breast. Then he will switch after a few minutes now sucking on the one he was tugging at and now rubbing the one he was sucking.

It drives him crazy when you wear shorts or skirts and v-neck shirts or shirts that just showoff your breast.

Vincent also gives the best massages, he has no problem rubbing your legs and thighs. And hey he'll massage your breast too

Charles Lee Ray

Charles Lee Ray has to be an ass guy!

I'm pretty sure this man would take anything you give him but in booty we trust.

He constantly slaps and gropes your ass daily

If you are wearing a skirt or a dress he has no problem hiking the skirt up to grab your bare ass or just see it in your black panties.

Very much prefer you wear thongs he loves having easy access.

This man loves back shots! He enjoys gripping onto your waist and slapping your ass as he slams himself inside you.

One of his many favorite positions is reverse cowgirl, he loves watching your beautiful ass bounce up and down on his cock.

Charles loves anal, he loves how tight your ass is and enjoys the sweet moans and groans to make as he takes his time sliding into you.

Will eat you out any day of the week and trust he loves leaving bite marks on your ass and enjoys feeling you tremble underneath him as his licks up your valley. (you know exactly what I'm talking about)

Charles loves to punish you, mainly spanking you. He loves watching how your ass jiggles with each slap. He also loves seeing how red your ass can get, he thinks its pretty seeing his hand prints left behind on your soft skin.

Thank you for reading!!! I hope you guys enjoyed and I hope I didn't disappoint with Charles Lee Ray I really did enjoy writing for him! Thank you tons for the request! <3

[helsensm]

I'd love to see a sketch of (non-mk1) Raiden/Bo' Rai Cho if you're down! :)

got drunk and sad af so I'm gonna finish some drunk sketches requests I got back in december, yaaay??

I'M NOT TAKING any hew requests now though!

"We old warriors need to stick together, eh?"

[perigilpin]

Nitearmor Week Day 3 FLAME HARDEN: a hardened surface with a soft core. Prompt: Romance Pulp Fiction