#thank you fan by nature

[crazyfanofmassculture]

Getting to know your tag game

Got tagged by @fanbynature thank you 💛

Last song: Heartshaker by Twice 💓

Favourite color: blue and yellow 💛/💙

Currently watching: Wedding impossible (in process)

Relationship status: single and open 🐾

Current obsession: Chinese traditional opera costumes (thanks to "Farewell, my concubine" and "Winter begonia")

Last thing you googled: "how to delete wps office" 😅

u don't gave to do it if u don't want to

Tagging: @the-winterofourdiscontent @yesungi @ssamja-trash

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Who is this sassy lost child?

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[ghost-bxrd]

You guys ever think about an AU where Jason goes to hound Tim through Titans Tower, and, mid pursuit—while Tim is screaming at him about the second Robin being his hero, tryin to crawl away in a trail of blood—realizes he’s become an even worse version of his own mother, who sold him out to the Joker?

Because I do.

[transformers-synergize]

Do you have any more stuff for Sunny & Sides? Your designs for them are some of the best I've seen, and I'd love to know more about your plans or headcanons for them!

No pressure ofc, I support you and your absolute galaxy brain :D

Sure, here is a bunch of random stuff about in no particular order, lot of this stuff was just pulled from my notes but whatever lol 

Sunstreaker is egotistical, he knows he is the best and makes sure everyone knows it too. He also has the skills, looks, and combat prowess to back it up. Sunstreaker only really cares about himself and Sideswipe, considering pretty much every bots below him or not worth his time. He often makes sly comments, belittling or cracking jokes about bots whom he deems lesser. His friends are either Sideswipes friends who can tolerate him or bots who think he's cool, which is usually due to factors outside his personality. He's always down for a good fight, being ruthless and downright merciless in combat while still somehow managing to get as little dirt, energon, or other various combat filth on himself as possible, sometimes being nearly spotless after a battle aside from the energon coating his blade. Sunny likes to keep himself in good condition, making sure his paint is perfect and his polish shines, it really helps accentuate how he's the best.

Sideswipe is the nicer of the two brothers. He's outgoing and usually pretty friendly. Sideswipes is always looking for a fight. He loves the thrill of combat. He often treats serious situations more like a game than the high-danger situations he often places in. Sideswipe often can't sit still and always need something to do, and if there is nothing fun to do then he will make his own fun, he is often sparring with his fellow Autobots, trying risky stunts, pulling pranks on other bots and generally just causing chaos. He's very impulsive, often doing the first thing that comes to mind because he thought it might be fun, never considering the consequences. He's kinda like a jock who treats war like a sport with an almost ruthless approach to combat. He often tenses and banter with other autobots, sometimes making jokes at their expense, but unlike Sunny, he usually knows when to stop or when he's gone too far.

info dump bellow↓↓↓

Sideswipe and Sunstreaker both emerged during the Autobot Decepticon war and never known peace times. They are the youngest of the crashed Autobots, both being around a thousand years old, which is very young when your species can live to their hundred thousands.

Twins are what happens when a shuttle-sized spark splits into two, so before Sideswipe and Sunstreaker split, their emerging was highly anticipated because shuttles are rare and extremely powerful, but their spark ended up splitting. When they finally emerged, it was a great disappointment.

they were mentored by Inferno and, to a lesser extent, his conjux Redalert (they are one of the many reasons for Redalerts anxiety). Sideswipe has a pretty good relationship with his mentors Sunny… not so much 

Sunny hates Earth, it's filthy it's wet it's squishy it's sticky it's too hot, at least compared to Cybertron's frigid temperatures, and its dominant species are nothing but a pain he hates he has to hide his existence from the stupid inferior fleshy creatures that rule this dirtball of a planet he hates how often on missions he has to have a fleshy human chaperone to perform basic task that he could easily do himself or wouldn't be a problem if humans just didn't exist. Whichever bot or bots are on a mission with Sunny where human help is required, the other bot will always be the one transporting the human because Sunny refuses to let a human inside of him.

Sideswipe likes Earth, there so much to see it his first time being anywhere without the war consent looming present of the great war, but having to hide all the time on Earth is frustrating, he's been able to seek out and do some street races without Prowl knowing, he likes quite a lot of human stuff human music is pretty good and he like some human tv shows and movies mostly the ones with a lot of actions and explosion, he like interacting with the humans he's allowed to interact with especially Carly and Raoul, thought Sideswipe often struggles to understand how fragile humans are and often can put them at risk without even knowing it. Sideswipe is still a little homesick for Cybertron, even if he's only ever known it as a war-torn mess.

their poses often mirror each other

Sunny tells Sideswipe to smile with his mouth closed because his split beak. 

Sunny is the decision-maker of the two, and though Sideswipe may make destinations for himself on his own as a pair, Sunny always has the final say. 

Sunstreaker hates Sideswipe stickers but gave up on trying to remove them because whenever he tried, he got his claws sticky. 

Sunstreaker and Tracks have a bit of a rivalry going on, though Tracks hates Sunstreaker more than Sunstreaker dislikes Tracks. Also, Sunny usually comes out as the victor of most of their little spats.

Sideswipe pulls pranks but doesn't dare prank Sunstreaker because he knows there will be hell to pay if he messes up his brother's paint job. 

sideswipe loves to cause chaos, Sunny often help

Sunny has some artistic talent, though he doesn't use it much

Sunstreaker always makes sure his frame is clean and in near-perfect condition. Sideswipe doesn't care as much but Sunny, make sure Sideswipe keeps up to a certain standard.

Sideswipe is very extroverted, loves interacting with other bots, and will talk to basically anyone. Sunny is more introverted and prefers to keep to himself and select bots. Sunny tries to encourage his brother not to hang out with bots he considers not good enough to be associated with them which is most bots.

-----------------

As for plans for them, I like keeping what I share plot-wise pretty vague. They appear pretty early on, and they both are pretty plot-important. I don't really care about spoiling characters who appear in the first seven chapters. After that, I'm a little more sneaky and vague about who will appear.

[97keanu]

୨୧ request ୨୧ daddy dom jw! reader in a collar and leash! size kink!

𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒔𝒌𝒆𝒅 𝒔𝒐 𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒕𝒍𝒚...

CW/Tags: smut, pet play, leash and collar, s&m dynamics, age gap, p in v, oral f/m receiving, trust dynamics, john is a VERY good dom <3, inexperienced!reader (to bdsm), commanding and authoritive john, use of daddy/puppy/good girl etc, SIZE KINK, John is a firm but caring dom, filthy smut, john ofc does after care, emotional reader after sex, might be the dirtiest thing I’ve written tbh…

Words: 5.3k

The steady rhythm of John Wick's footsteps on his morning walk always woke you up before your alarm. Like clockwork, he'd pass your house at 6:15 a.m., his black-on-black attire and leash in hand as his dog trotted obediently beside him. It was routine. Comforting. A reminder that the man next door wasn’t your typical middle aged dad-type—he didn’t care to invite you to the latest neighborhood cookout, or wave enthusiastically as he mowed his lawn on Sunday mornings. No, he was painfully, infuriatingly disciplined, in all he did.

At first, you only noticed him in passing. The quiet but polite neighbor who always nodded in acknowledgment, even when your conversations were limited to small talk at the mailbox. But something about John lingered: his presence, his patience, the way he seemed to see through people without saying a word. That quiet power drew you in before you even realized it, pulling you closer until your innocent hellos morphed into stolen glances—and eventually, something far less innocent.

Now, as you stood in his kitchen, sipping coffee while the leash you’d asked for sat coiled neatly on the counter, your heart raced in a way you hadn’t felt in years. John leaned against the doorframe, his gaze as steady as ever, though the hint of a smirk tugged at his lips.

"You keep staring at that like you're second-guessing yourself," he said, voice low and deliberate. "Changed your mind?"

You shook your head, fingers brushing the leather. "Not exactly. Just... getting used to the idea."

"Good," he replied, stepping closer.

His shadow felt larger than life as he closed the space between you, the width of his chest splayed out over a black shirt, the cotton holding him close.

"Because I don’t do halfway. If this is what you want, you’ll give me everything. Understand?”

Your eyes don't know where to go, your legs shift, thighs squeezing nervously with a rush of fear and excitement. You've had fantasies about something like this sure, but you never really thought…

“Eyes up here, puppy…” his voice isn't asking for attention, it's commanding, authority ripe in his deep voice.

Your obedience was what drew him in. The way you looked up when told, eyes big and full of nothing less than the want to please, even the highest of demands.

“If you want to back out, simply shake your head no.” His eyes watched yours, letting silence fill the kitchen without any hint of awkwardness.

He waits, letting you decide for yourself before continuing. Your head remains glued in place, worried even the slightest of flinches may give away any second doubts, something that John may see and deem a reason to stop right here and now. Your eyes search his dark ones, and you watch his lips part once more, a deep breath inhaled there.

“Or, you can put on your collar like a good girl and we can get started.”

Each word makes your heart thump in your ears, excitement rushing into every cell of your body. Your fingers twitch, and your eyes flashback over to that tempting leather that calls to you. Somehow, you know if you go through with this, you will never really be the same, never able to go back to how you were, placating frat boys at your college and having mediocre sex with boys who never even cared if you enjoyed a second of it. No, if you do this, you’ll crave it for the rest of your life.

Your fingers lift, grazing across the dark marble counter until they reach smooth, black leather. A collar just for you, perfect for your pretty little neck, custom made with the finest materials John could find for you. Your mouth parts, and a shaky, but excited breath leaves you as you bring the collar up to your neck.

“That’s a my girl…” John sets his coffee on the counter, walking behind you and brushing your hair to the side.

You feel his large, warm hands touch the nape of your neck, electricity passing between the two of you, unspoken tension building between your legs as he finishes the buckle back there. He tightens it just enough to be snug, but no more. He lets your hair drop once more, then lets his hands encapsulate your shoulders, their firm roughness bringing heat to your skin.

“Let’s begin.”

꩜ ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆ ✩ ୨୧˚

John had guided you—no, commanded you—into the living room, his hand firm but not forceful at the base of your neck as you followed his lead. The leash connected to your collar trailed in his other hand, the soft clink of the chain with each step grounding you. Your skin prickles, hyper aware of every move he makes, a wolf circling its prey before going in for the kill.

“Good,” he murmured, the single word full of approval as he turned you to face him, your heart blooming at the idea of pleasing him. His eyes, sharp and unyielding, roamed over you with an intensity that made your knees weak. “You’re already learning.”

You tried to swallow the knot in your throat, but his presence made it impossible. John Wick wasn’t the kind of man to rush anything—he took his time, measured and deliberate, savoring every reaction you gave him.

“Sit,” he instructed, gesturing to the plush ottoman in the center of the room. His voice was calm, as if you’d done this a hundred times before, and the weight of it settled over you like a blanket.

When you hesitated, his lips curved into a faint smile—not playful, but knowing. “Second-guessing yourself again?”

You shook your head quickly, not wanting to displease or seem childish in front of him, sitting as instructed. The moment you obeyed, his long fingers hooked under your chin, his large hand tilting your face upward so you couldn’t look anywhere but at him. Those dark eyes pierce right into the very depths of your being as his soft lips move.

“Good girl,” he said, his voice dropping just enough to make the air between you feel electric. “Now, let’s see how far you’re willing to go.”

John continues circling you slowly, his footsteps deliberate, each one echoing softly in the quiet room. You felt his presence like a heavy shadow, his gaze burning into you even when he wasn’t directly in front of you.

“Do you know why I like this?” he asked, his voice calm, almost conversational.

The question makes you pause.

You hadn't considered it. You were used to men using you for your body, for their own pleasure, disregarding yours entirely. You figured it was any mans dream to have a sweet, supple young woman such as yourself, collared and begging to please their every whim. You briefly open your soft, glossy lips to reflect.

John stops behind you, his hand brushing lightly against the leash before pulling it taut—not enough to restrict, just enough to remind you it was there.

You shook your head, words failing you under the weight of his scrutiny.

“It’s not just the control,” he continued, his voice low, steady, and far too composed. “It’s the trust. The way you give yourself over to me without hesitation.”

His fingers trailed along your shoulder, sending a shiver down your spine.

“It means you believe I’ll take care of you... even when I push you.”

You inhaled sharply, the meaning in his words sinking in.

“But trust,” he said, moving to stand in front of you again, “isn’t just given. It’s earned. And right now, you’re going to show me exactly how much you trust me.”

He crouched slightly, bringing himself to eye level with you, his sleek suit pants tight against his thighs, his expression unreadable yet entirely commanding. His hand tilted your chin up again, his thumb brushing along the line of your jaw.

“Speak,” he ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Do you trust me?”

You breathe, looking at the man before you, at his imposing presence and how easy it would be for him to take advantage of you at any moment. How you could just be another silly, young girl he's lured into his trap.

But your mouth says otherwise.

“Yes,” you whispered, the word barely audible, but it was enough to make his lips curl into that faint, knowing smile again.

“Good,” he said, his approval like a reward in itself. “Then you’ll listen. You’ll follow. You’ll let me guide you.”

He tugged gently on the leash, urging you to stand. The movement was unhurried, meticulous, as if he wanted you to feel every second of his control.

As you rose to your feet, his free hand pressed against the small of your back, steadying you. The simple act sent a jolt of awareness through your body, reminding you that while he held all the power in this moment, it wasn’t about domination—it was about connection. About trust.

“You’re doing well,” he said softly, his fingers brushing the leather of your collar before settling back on the leash. “But we’re just getting started.”

His hands gently leave you, and he steps away once more, eyes flickering across every inch of your body, taking you in.

“Strip.” he commands, his voice unyielding in authority.

You hesitate. You had never felt so subconscious of yourself as you did in this moment. It's not like you hadn't been seen naked before, but that was always hurried, dark dorm rooms and drunken kisses taking up most of your awareness. You had never been inspected the way John's dark eyes were watching you now.

His eyebrow flicks up for a moment, and you hesitate no longer, hands going up under your short black mini skirt to begin pulling down your stockings, the way you usually get undressed at home, without much care for the act.

John's hand gives the leash a tug as he speaks.

“Slower. Start at the top.”

You freeze, your mind overwhelmed by the scrutiny, but your need to please take over.

You straighten, eyes flicking from John to the floor and back again over and over as you slowly begin to unbutton your pale pink blouse. You think about it, taking a breath and releasing it slowly to calm yourself from all the attention, hands steadying and making sure to be intentional, calculated in their strokes.

You had never had to be sexy in front of someone like this, a worry forming in your brow and your excessive fluttering lashes as you wonder if you're accomplishing the job. John's eyes give nothing away, his gaze steady, as if testing just exactly how you will react to such stimuli.

You shrug your shoulders as your blouse begins to gently glide off, falling down to your elbows and exposing your pretty pink bra beneath, complete with lace and bows. You wonder if you seem too inexperienced, too girlish, a waif who knows nothing of this dominant world that John is so clearly a part of.

As your first article of clothing falls to the floor, John gives the slightest of approving nods, and nothing more, eyes hungry to see just what else you will do.

Your hands reach behind your back to unbutton your bra, but you see John give a shake of his head, and your hands fall anxiously onto your thighs.

Right, right. Slow. Sexy. Deliberate.

You instead do something bold. Turning around, one step after another, a click of a heel then the other. Your manicured hands come under the waistband of your cream mini skirt, slowly but surely shimming the soft fabric down. You feel the bare parts of your ass tingle against the chill of the room, matching lacy panties snug against your skin, white stockings sheer in the light.

You can't see his face, and for a moment you wonder if you've killed the mood entirely until you hear him release a breath.

“Good.”

This one's softer than the others.

Your skirt pools at your ankles, and you slowly step one foot out, the other kicking the fabric away.

You take a moment, your back still to him, and you let your eyes close as you compose the butterflies fluttering deep in your stomach.

Your hands reach once more behind you, your bra seemingly the next logical clothing item to go.

You didn't realize John had come so close behind you, a frightened gasp slipping from your pink, pouty lips as his hands circle around both your wrists.

“Let me savor you.” His voice drips with want, his nose and mouth pressed against the back of your head, taking your scent in.

As he breathes you in, you feel your body press into his, his warmth, his tight suit, his hard cock pressed against your ass.

A moan escapes you as his hands come to your waist, touching the exposed skin of your midriff, goosebumps left in the wake of his lingering fingertips.

“John…” You breath out, and you feel a hand take the leather of your leash once more, a firm tug to let you know your place.

“You may call me master, sir, whatever signature of authority you choose, but never John.” He whispers it into your ear, his breath tickling you and his serious tone sending shivers all the way down your spine.

You mull this over, your lips curling into a smile as you finally land on the right one.

“Daddy…” you breathe out, a bit nervous to use it out loud for the first time, but knowing you’ve been thinking it ever since you laid eyes on John.

John chuckles in your hair softly, and you can feel his lips smile against you.

“Daddy it is…” he softly agrees, then pauses before letting out a long breath.

His heat moves away from your back, his hand moving around your neck gently as he comes to face you from the front. His eyes search yours deeply for a moment before speaking.

John’s thumb traced a slow, deliberate circle against your collarbone, the silence stretching between you like a live wire. His gaze softened, just for a moment, a rare glimpse of something gentler beneath his steady exterior.

“You’re doing so well,” he murmured, his voice low and rich, a quiet reassurance that sent warmth blooming in your chest. “But we’re not done yet.”

The leash in his hand shifted slightly, the chain catching the light as he gave the slightest tug. The motion drew your attention—and your body—closer to him.

“Kneel,” he said, his tone calm but leaving no room for question.

You blinked up at him, the weight of the command settling over you. His hand moved to cradle your cheek, his touch firm yet tender.

“No hesitation,” he reminded you, his dark eyes locking onto yours. “Show me you’re ready for this.”

The steady authority in his voice made it impossible to resist, and you sank to your knees without a second thought, the floor cold even through your stockings. As soon as you did, John let out a satisfied hum, the corner of his mouth lifting in approval.

“Perfect,” he said, tilting your chin upward again, his fingers brushing your skin like a promise. “Now, keep your eyes on me.”

Your big eyes gaze up at him, lashes fluttering with the slightest hint of confusion before reminding yourself that you need to put your trust in him. Your heart races in your throat as his size-able hands reach down to his belt, the cold sound of metal clinking against itself and leather ruffling through fabric echoes through the room as he slowly slips his belt off. You gaze in wonder for what is to come next, your mouth opening as if to ask then closing again as you remind yourself of your position here.

John wraps the belt around one arm, leaving it there. With the other he holds your leash, his dark eyes bore into yours.

“Take my cock out.” He instructs, and your immediate reaction is to flush, a heat rising in your cheeks hotter than it ever has.

You feel like a fish gasping for air on dry land as the command washes over you. You blink a few times before the tug of your collar grounds you back into reality, and you look to where you can see the massive outline of John's cock showing against his black suit pants, tight and ready to be released.

You look back up into his eyes, and without another word, your hands begin fumbling with the button and zipper, your big doe eyes searching his for that much needed approval.

“Y-yes…” You whisper, barely audible to keep yourself going, and you feel John's hand tighten its grip on your leash.

“Yes, what?” He raises an arched dark brow, his expectations in his eyes.

“Yes, Daddy…” You fumble a few times more with the zipper as the words drip from your mouth, sweet as honey.

“That’s a good girl…”

As the zipper comes to it's final resting place at the base of John's cock, you press beneath the waistband of his underwear, almost struggling to get a cock of his size out from such a cramped space.

Heat radiates from there, your hand almost refusing to wrap all the way around his shaft as it pops out in front of your face, dangling there with all its girth and surprising length.

Oh god…

You wonder how you will anything that size anywhere inside of you, and your pussy aches as you think of it filling you all the way to the brim. You feel your mouth water as you look back up at John from his cock, your eyebrows pressed together in worry and lust.

“Alright, puppy,” John sighs out, a smirk curled on his lips at your reaction. “Let’s see just how much your mouth can take…”

You gulp back fear, and look back at his cock, two hands coming up to grip it from both sides. You breathe out slow, and you consider all the other cocks you've taken before, but none have even compared to the one before you.

You bring your mouth to his tip, pressing it against the flat of your tongue, taking a few long licks and savoring his taste. Your eyes meet his, hoping desperately you're being a good girl as you move to take more and more of him into your mouth. He fills every inch, and soon enough, you've barely got half of his cock in your mouth before he's reached the back of your throat. A slight sense of panic starts to wash over you as you consider the very real possibility that you won't be able to get all the way to the base of his cock, and you squirm as you try to readjust in a way that might.

“Take your time,” John whispers while letting a hand come to rest on the back of your head, his fingers gently petting your hair there. You can't help but moan into his cock, the feeling of being treated as such making you wetter by the minute.

You work his shaft with your hands, trying your best to get him down the back of your throat over and over as you begin to pick up speed. You notice that certain things you're doing right now illicit a moan from John, like swirling your tongue or twisting your hands just right, and you almost whimper into his cock as you realize what a good girl you're being.

“That’s right puppy, take as much as you can…” John's hand begins to apply pressure to the back of your head, slowly but surely forcing you deeper and deeper onto his cock until you're practically choking on it.

Your whimpers get cut off by his huge cock filling up your throat, and your toes curl beneath you as your knees begin to scream against the hardwood floors. You squeeze your eyes closed tight, trying your hardest to not let any discomfort come between you and being a good puppy.

Your nose begins to hit against his lower stomach, your mouth filled with spit that has no where to go, your pretty little throat tight around his cock. John’s hips buck into your mouth, controlled thrusts forcing himself deeper until you don't think you can take anymore, until the breath in your lungs swells up from being cut off so often, and your moans are silenced by John’s hand working your head into his cock and keeping it there for way too long. You squirm, your weight shifting in your thighs and your cunt dripping with want, your eyes beginning to water and looking up at him with the most pleading, desperate look.

John grips your hair one last time and pulls the entirety of his cock out of you, your breath suddenly rushing back in, a few coughs and a trail of spit from you to him as well.

John’s breath seems to be stolen for a moment as well, his hand rubbing your head with respect and admiration for your job well done.

“God…” He catches his breath, looking down at you with thinly veiled awe. “You’ve been such a brave girl for me, taking all that cock.”

You have no idea what you look like staring up at him from the floor, your make up beginning to slide down your cheeks from the tears that welled up, but you imagine you're beaming at him. Hearing him say that has you in a daze of euphoria, and you nod along, his hand coming from your head to cup your face softly.

“Does a good pet like you deserve a treat?” He smiles gently as you nod into his hand, your eyes closing from working so hard.

He leans down and gently lifts you from the floor, picking you up effortlessly, as if your weight meant nothing to him. You watch his strong arms tense under his shirt, and you practically swoon.

He takes you over to a nearby chair, laying you in it softly and beginning to kneel now himself, positioned between your legs. You look down at him, lids half closed and still out of it from the throat fucking you just took, watching as his hands take in your legs, rubbing all the way up to between your thighs and grabbing your stockings there.

Before you can question just what he's doing, John’s strong hands grip the white see through material there and tear, a startling rip making you jump for a moment and hold your breath. Before you can react to John ruining your pair of stockings, he slides your pretty pink panties to the side to expose your glistening cunt, and your legs tremble for a moment, considering closing in embarrassment before his hands firmly open you back up.

“Don’t you dare try to hide such a pretty pussy from me ever again.” He looks up at you with hunger and adoration. “Understood?”

“Yes, Daddy…” You nod eagerly, body tense with want and waiting for what comes next.

He watches you for a moment, making sure you really understand, before diving in.

You gasp as his mouth refuses to hesitate, refuses to let you acclimate to the warmth of this tongue and the softness of his lips. Instead, he devours you, sucking on your clit until it stands to attention, aching and wanting more. He laps at your juicy cunt with relish, savoring how good you taste on his tongue, his fast and short breaths tickling every part of you down there. Your hands clutch the arms of the leather chair, your legs up over his shoulders and your heels clacking behind his head as he bobs up and down on your pussy, licking every inch of you he can.

“Fuck,” You moan out as you feel yourself shaking at his every touch, your heart beating out of your chest.

With the hand that’s not keeping your panties out of the way, he lets two fingers soak up your wetness before slowly making their way inside of you. He refocuses his mouth on your clit, his fingers twisting and testing just how well you adjust. You cry out, trying not to curse so much but you can’t help yourself. It’s as if your body has been possessed with lust and ignited by John Wick’s tongue.

”Oh god, John, I think I’m going to cum!” You feel that familiar tightness in your lower stomach begin to build, your thighs tensing and attempting to close in on John’s head.

“You better not, puppy!” John pulls off of your clit, mouth soaked and shiny from your wetness, his hands moving to opening you nice and wide as well as giving your collar a firm tug to bring you off of the edge.

You practically yelp from the sudden difference, your chest heaving, your eyes unfocused and confused from being stolen away from such a beautiful wave of pleasure.

“Not until I get my thick cock inside that tight cunt of yours.” John warns, moving to line his throbbing cock up with your entrance.

You gulp back fear as he taps his cock against your cunt, the heaviness of it bouncing off of you as you shudder.

“Now, are you going to be a good puppy who waits to cum until Daddy tells her too?” His tone makes you remember your place in all of this, makes you remember that you have no say in when you derive your pleasure.

All you can do is nod, wide doe eyes looking from his to his cock with wanton want.

“I need to hear you say it.” He growls as he rubs himself against you, his length evident as he does so and beginning to make your stomach squirm in worry.

“Y-yes…” You breathe out, forgetting the rules as you focus on just how much cock you will soon be taking.

“Yes, what?” John growls as he lets the tip of his cock play with the idea of entering you.

“Yes,” You take a deep breath, bracing for what he’s about to do. “Daddy…”

John’s hips snap back, the forward, slamming the entirety of his cock into you in one swift blow. You have never felt such a rush of pleasure and pain at the same time, a guttural cry escaping your mouth and your hands leaving marks in his expensive leather chair.

“Oh, John…” You cry out as he thrusts into you, his want taking over, his need beginning to spiral out of control.

“What was that?” He mocks the use of his real name with harder thrusts, his breath coming quicker and heavier as the seconds pass.

“D-ad-dy-“ You moan out, the word cut off by each powerful thrust, the movement taking over the whole of your body.

“That’s it darling,” He closes his eyes, getting lost in just how tight you feel around his cock, just how warm it is inside you. “Touch yourself like a good girl, now.”

You do as he instructs, the feeling of your fingers circling your throbbing clit taking away some of the edge of the pain of his massive cock, and you bite into your lip to try to stop from cumming right then and there.

You have to be a good girl for him, you have to do what Daddy says and wait for him to tell you to cum.

You never thought you would see John lose such control, lose himself inside of you and let go of such rigid mannerisms. His long hair falls into his face, a slight gleam of sweat building up on his shoulders as he puts all he can into fucking the absolute shit out of you, using up every inch of you he can, pressing himself so deep inside you, you don’t think you’ll ever be the same again.

You play with your clit intermittently, having to stop now and then to keep yourself from falling over the edge and cumming right then and there. It’s pure torture, you can barely keep up with it all.

John’s muscles tighten, and you can see he’s getting closer. You hear soft moans coming from him, held back by only the slightest bit of control he has left. As his cock swells inside you, the raw feeling of him sliding in and out overwhelms your senses. You feel as if you’ve never been this full before, never been fucked as deep as you have now, and you know that nothing else will compare ever again. Your moans become incoherent, hands gripping for anything they can get a hold of, legs wrapped around John’s waist as he pulls himself in deeper, deeper, deeper…

”Please Daddy…” You whisper out, barely able to form the words. “Can I please cum?”

John groans, his teeth gritting, and nods.

“Yes, babygirl…” He huffs.

You take no time waiting, your fingers dashing around your clit in mad circles as he continues filling you up over and over again, hitting just the right spots inside you effortlessly. You feel yourself tense more than ever, your legs clamping down around his waist, your pussy tighter than ever around his thick cock. John lets the last bit of control he has go as your cum around his cock, your cunt fluttering and throbbing, leaving him no choice but to spill the biggest load of cum inside you you’ve ever had. He moans out, unable to keep himself from doing as such, his breaths shaky and his hips rocking out the last few bits of pleasure that they can. You ride his wave, bucking with him and taking everything you can like the good puppy you are. John practically collapses into you, the arms of the chair keeping his full weight from weighing down on you.

He leaves his cock inside you, letting it throb out any final bits of cum for the moment, his face close to yours, your breath intertwining with his. Both of your eyes are closed, but his mouth finds yours with ease, those soft lips of his tiredly taking soft kisses and whimpers from you.

Finally, when he has the strength, John Wick stands, slowly pulling out of you, his hot cum leaking out of your abused hole. He pushes his mess of long, dark locks out of his face, then looks down at you with half open eyes, before leaning down to scoop you up. He takes you to a larger couch, where you can both sprawl out more, collapsing into it with you in his arms.

He says nothing for a moment, the sounds of his breath and heartbeat beneath your cheek as you try to catch your own, completely out of it by now.

You feel his big hand begin petting your sweaty hair, stroking it with softest, most admiring touches. Your ears ring as you come down from it all, and eventually you make a sound that isn’t his heart or his breath.

“You did such a good job…” He breathes out in tired, half mumbles. ”I’m so proud of you…”

Your heart swells, and the exhilaration and emotion gets to you, tears welling up in your eyes. You dip your head into the crook of his chest and arm, hiding your face as to not embarrass yourself from crying after sex.

“Oh, come here, darling.” John purrs, pulling you closer, gently rubbing your back as you let it all out.

“You’re safe,” He whispers to you. “I got you, you’re safe right here, baby.”

He purrs sweet compliments and assures your safety over and over, gently kissing the top of your head. You let the emotions come and pass into pure bliss, and eventually, to the sound of his soft cooing words, you fall asleep in John Wick’s arms.

[milktea-grn]

🕸

[frederickkreibug]

Re-entering this fandom by giving A tier list based on how/if these vat7k characters would fuck up a 20 piece buffalo wing

Free for debate

[kathaynesart]

After seeing Ron Circilo’s confirmation that F!Leo did have mystic powers, I can safely say that I actually prefer the fan canon that he didn’t, least not when the prologue happened. Makes Leo cooler knowing he still leas the resistance and fought back the Kraang without any magic whatsoever. Just his training, strategic skills, and intelligence to keep him pushing to the next day and so on, and his teammates and family to help support(as long as they could). Just feels cooler. Your thoughts?

Well, first off, I must say that I have nothing but the utmost respect for Ron Circilo and the Rise team in what they were able to accomplish! The fact that he was willing to come online and answer all of our unending questions was such a gift and a true act of kindness on his part. One that is deserving of our respect and gratitude.

It is amazing how much the little bits of knowledge have invigorated so many within the fandom, myself included! With this in mind, it is not my place or intention to disregard anything he has stated in these answers. For the most part I found everything he said to be insightful and very much in line with the impression given by both the show and movie. (My particular favorite being that future Mikey is physically in his 70's due to the use of his powers. I am very happy that Replica is already slated to be going in that direction.)

The answer in regards to Leo's mystic powers, I will admit, is probably one of the few answers I personally interpreted differently from the opening scene of the film. Even so, I think it's more important to take into account that projects such as the Rise Movie involve a lot of people and writers with differing opinions and thoughts (for example I heard many while interning on AtLA). So at points like this I can only shrug and say that whatever isn't stated outright within the final source material, is still open to interpretation. It's just nice to be given some insight on what could have been!

Just know that I will continue with what I had planned for Replica, in which Leo does not have his mystic abilities. For me this will play a key role in his character growth (many of which you mentioned in your question) and also explain a number of issues the opening film would otherwise face.

[goshushin]

kris rkgk いつも気にかけてくれる人が好きって… (I like people who always take care of me/others)

[friendrat]

The problem with the church today is that so many "Christians" do not actually believe in redemption.

[666silco]

This is something I’ve wanted to do since my first one, I have updated my character tierlist from s1 to s2 now that it’s finished! I always think these are fun so I just wanted to post them. As you can see my opinions on many characters changed quite a bit. Also these are in order, even for very minor characters. The “first” one is accurate to the one I made in 2022 when I first watched the show, I just remade it so the tierlists match.

[shalom-iamcominghome]

Tallit Update:

This is about an inch (2.5cm) up, and this spans fifty-one inches (129.5cm) across. This represents about four hours of work at least already, and yes, I feel like I'm going crazy.

For reference, this is my rough outline of what it'll look like. The numbers are in inches, of course:

Some new ideas:

In the "blank" space left between all the stripes, I want to alternate between one row of half double crochet and the second row double crochet. Will that be visible? No. But it sounds fun.

I might add a border, but here's the catch: I want the sides that are fifty-one inches to be done in picot stitches. I'm really not sure how it'll look, but I really don't want to add the more "traditional" fringes that go around many tallit. However, I think picot might be a good imitation of that traditional look. Honestly, I either need to be talked into this, or talked out of it

For those who don't know, this is what a picot stitch looks like:

[legendary-guest]

Thinking about how Monkey Fist and DNAmy got to where they got to in the show. Special thanks to @danglovely's post about the subject for helping connect the dots and turning the gears in my head. More than a professional relationship, as stated. Here's my take. It's long!

The step to alter Monty Fiske's hands and feet was years in the making. Searching for someone who would do something so experimental and insane took a lot of time, all the while hiding his growing obsession and madness from the public and academic colleagues alike. When he finally found Amy, it was a huge relief, and he was overcome with so much joy, with genuine appreciation.

Amy, recently exiled from the scientific community, was greatly flattered by Monty's sheer enthusiasm and willingness to be altered. He knew exactly what he wanted and was so knowledgeable about primates. In fact, he knew a lot about her and her research. Really, it was more of a collaboration. No one at the scientific institutes ever wanted to collaborate with Amy, on her projects and fields of expertise. O, Lord Fiske….

Amy calls the procedure radical genetic mutation in the episode Partners. Aspects of fanon think it's surgery. Just wanted to address this here before continuing. The infamous hobbling scene from the movie Misery (spoilers + grievous, non-bloody violence, if that matters) is how I imagine the preparation for this 'procedure' went. Monty is conscious, he wants to be awake for every step of the transformation, to really feel it, experience it, to remember it. He fairly yells Amy's praises as she does this. (Yes, I would love to think she says, "God, I love you." just as Annie does in the movie. Unaware that she has even said it, perhaps. He doesn't hear it over his screaming).

You know what, Monty might even be the one yelling "I love you!" - that's way funnier. Yes, let's keep that. Yes, you are right to think this is analogous to another activity, dear reader.

Surgery, genetic mutation, whatever happens, he's lucid for it and endures it very well. Amy takes care of him, dotes on him. He's such a good patient, so polite. Always saying please and thank you. He never swears, not even when he's in immense pain. A real, proper gentleman. O, and the way he looks at her with his striking blue eyes and his heavy, British (simian?) brow giving him this air of mystery. Smiling at her all the time, talking about how grateful and happy he is, how she is fulfilling his lifelong dream. The poor woman is about to faint herself! His British accent and eloquence don't help either!

They continue to get to know each other during his recovery. Amy has him do basic physical tests and exercises to get used to his new appendages. She continues to be impressed by his knowledge of primate anatomy. They practically finish each other's sentences on the matter. A lot of bashful turning away and tender smiles between them.

Amy feels comfortable enough to share her Cuddle Buddy collection with him. She's somewhere between shy and enthusiastic when introducing him to it. He's said all these nice things, to her, about her, and he's so educated and goes on so many grand adventures. Her collecting hobby, her passion, seems silly in comparison.

Let's throw this in here - I reckon he holds her hand with his monkey hand. That's sweet. He smiles at her.

Monty calls one of her Cuddle Buddies cute. Amy knows she's in-love with him now. She also knows the way he looks at her isn't just politeness for politeness' sake…

Lord Fiske is utterly elated, on Cloud Nine the entire time he's staying with Amy. Her cooking is good, her abode is well-kept, she is hospitable, she's intelligent and interested in what he has to say and knows so much herself. It's…comfortable, here. Though, he knows, this is all just the icing on the cake. The first step to his ultimate goal has been made. He allows himself to enjoy it wholly, savour it.

Finally, they part, exchanging good-byes. It's a little sad, they've both enjoyed their time together (for different, or perhaps, not all that different, reasons).

Ever the gentleman, Lord Fiske takes one of Amy's hands in his (simian) one, and kisses it gently. A proper good-bye. Amy is stunned. He takes his leave with a smile and a nod.

Amy cannot stop thinking about him. At all. Even when that really handsome teacher came around, with that gangly teen and his pet naked mole rat. And then Kimmie! Ugh, her lab…well. At least she has Monty to think about.

She still can't stop thinking about him when that cute (and charming) Dr. Drakken (though, not a doctor, he is very intelligent, he's definitely been to college, at least) comes along and asks to collaborate. O, he's so sweet. He thinks she can't see him smile when she's not looking directly at him. He should smile more often! Though, that green lady, his not girlfriend, seems to enjoy hovering around him a lot…. When he gets down on one knee and looks the most vulnerable and smitten she's seen him in their short time together, she knows what she must do. He handled it better than she thought he would, even when he screamed his sidekick's name (not girlfriend) as if he were in mortal danger.

Monkey Fist finds his thoughts straying from his destiny, every now and again. Back to Amy Hall. Back to her home. Back to the dinners they shared. Holding her hand, so small in his now…. It wouldn't hurt to incorporate her into some of his ritual praying. No, not at all. And why not? After all, she'd helped him in such a big way! He could have never become Monkey Fist without her. What a curious thing to think about. He finds himself burning a lot of incense and reverently holding her picture (which he printed off of the official Cuddle Buddy Fan Club website; professionally, of course) over the months.

Unable to bear being apart from the one she loves, and who she knows loves her, too, Amy makes contact with him. Probably whilst Monkey Fist is in the middle of some plan, so she is sure to catch him at a terrible time. She didn't call, she didn't send a letter, or even an e-mail, she just showed up.

Monkey Fist doesn't know what to think when she starts blathering on about how much she has missed him (well, it's not like he didn't also - NO, NO HE DIDN'T MISS HER!), and about monkeys, and the surgery, and Cuddle Buddies, and true love - true love? She can't be serious….

"O, Monty!" she cries, before flinging herself into his arms, holding him tight (was she always this strong? She did help him about, but this was ridiculous!), causing him to stumble back. Heck, maybe they even fall to the ground, her on top of him. (Thank you, romance tropes. Hope someone enjoys this).

He doesn't have time for this! He shoves her off, maybe a little more harshly than he intended, but she doesn't seem to be put off by it. In fact, she just keeps smiling at him, and batting her eyelashes! What's gotten into her? She didn't act anything like this when he was staying with her!

More of this nonsense occurs, I reckon. She's even found him in weird places, like in the middle of Cambodia. She's just…there. How did she KNOW? How did she FIND HIM?

She finally tells him, maybe the third time she 'meets' him, that she was sure that he loved her. Why, he even screamed at the top of his lungs that he loved her! Monkey Fist is stunned. No. That didn't happen.

He gets all uppity, maybe even red in the face (blushing. Amy is delighted, she's never seen this side of him before!). That wasn't what he was really thinking, or feeling, for that matter! It was just a side effect of whatever she drugged him up with!

She just continues to smile at him. He starts feeling unease, real unease. She tells him, knowingly, a little coyly, that she didn't give him any medicine for the procedure. He specifically requested no pain killers, or drugs, of any kind. She repeats to him, verbatim, what he'd told her about wanting to experience the entirety of the operation, even its ugliest moments.

Well, Montgomery, you've really done it now, haven't you? Told an incredibly intelligent, persistent, obsessive, and frankly, insane woman you loved her as she was shattering your joints. You wonder how you got yourself into this mess. O, right. Ultimate Monkey Master. Maybe Bates had a point. Or your mother. Okay, not her, but maybe Bates.

And that's that! That's how we get to Gorilla Fist!

[yandere-toons]

I got some art! This is my first time sending something like this so I hope it’s alright!

I…kinda failed at making them run but oh well. I was inspired by the count duckula episode the rest is history where count duckula went back in time and try to stop his Orginal recarnation/first count from being a count. As I watch I had an idea what If reader come and all count’s past gain the same obsession as our count. Don’t know how that would play out, but it would be a cool and chaotic idea and even for a storyline! Maybe?

But anyway I hope you enjoy! :)

[eldritchqueerture]

replaying bg3 and,,.... i am not immune to the emperor