#that’s probably the reason I love ink so much

[tetraandtheapples]

Thisss omfg. I actually love to think about how characters were coded, esp universes.....

I really love to think of Dream and Nightmare coding wise being almost completely the same. In fact, to such an extent that Nightmare's code is literally copy/pasted from Dream's with only a few variables changed here and there. If you were to have a look, you'd find multiple large chunks of code with comments like "// Dream's torso" or "// Dream's left leg" etc etc etc. The only parts that would be corrected to actually say Nightmare would be things that actually differ, like personality or his eyes being purple.

With their orb forms specifically (seen below LOL) I like to think between the two of them, the only difference in their code would be a single boolean (TRUE or FALSE value) deciding whether they are made of positive or negative energy... because then it sorta has this narrative add-on where legit they could've been very very similar if it weren't for how they were treated as children by the villagers. Whole nature vs nurture thing ykyk lmao

As for universes, I think it should be stated that Undertale's code is. Not the best! Fun fact, did you know all of Undertale's dialogue is one giant switch statement? For those without any programming knowledge, there are better ways to do this LOL.

But that aside, when coding an AU, I definitely think there are multiple ways to do so. I love to think the way Error actually destroys universes is that he actually is able to corrupt data... based on this bit of dialogue.

When Error goes to destroy an AU, he does state that he has to inspect it a bit, before nabbing the human to prevent any resets and such... undoing his work. When he does inspect though he's subjected to however a creator has made their own world. I really love to think certain worlds are harder to destroy for him just because the code is unreadable EHAHAHA.

For example, take these two simple programs I made in about 5 minutes:

Functionally, they do the same thing - take in a whole bunch of numbers given by the user and then spit out an average of all those numbers. However, where these two differ is that the first one is fucked to read - shitty variable names (pissShit, shitpiss, i hardly know her!), no spacing, no comments. Versus the much more readable second version where you can actually get an idea of what's going on. (I know the example is probably unneeded LOL but I like rambling and yapping. Sue me :P)

So there's Error, and sometimes he'll get very neat and tidy universes that are easy to read, understand, comprehend, etc etc. Hooray!! And from there he can be real slick with his destruction - maybe change a few important variables here and there and then immediately watch a world crumble into nothingness. Easy in and out job. Flawless. Sleek!

But then sometimes he'll come across this hellish AU - code completely incomprehensible. The creator decided it would be a good idea to use both the variable names "Fucked" and "fucked" and he didn't notice the capitalisation for an embarrassingly long time. Or they decided for whatever reason to write their AU in the joke programming languages Brainfuck or LOLCODE. And he'll go around crushing random bytes in a temper tantrum out of frustration only to see a single tree being deleted from existence, and then Ink decides to show up and it's all horrible and nothing goes his way ever. >:[

I also like to think he has to deal with these sorts of comments in his code... HEHAAHA (These are all from Simpsons: Hit and Run).

But yes..... ramble over.......... wah

Do u think that the way a character is coded affects how others perceive things once they're around them?

LOLE, HEAR ME OUT

what if the way u can know that Nightmare is nearby isn't even his aura, but the sheer LAG that happens? What if part of the misery comes from the fact that some people can identify these things w/ game behaviour, and they realize what is happening. Like, there are people noclipping through the walls, teleporting, and you speak something at the same time somebody answers something u said 2 minutes ago because Nightmare's code is held together by glue and prayers, and checks if there is negativity in an *immense* radius every second, yandere dev style?

I mean, how would it affect other characters? How would it affect battles? Nightmare is stated to know that there is something else outside of the multiverse, so I don't think it'd be mind boggling for him to know it's a game.

But a bunch of the other major characters have experienced realizing that things aren't real at least once. They would realize quickly. How would each of them individually react? Hell, what about the likes of Dream, which never had experience with anything like that?

AND ERROR.

OH lord, things must get impossible when Error's close to Nightmare. You try to move and you don't, and it's as if you're in a dream, and the hallways go on forever. What if AUs literally crash and restart in situations like this? I bet it'd annoy Error to no end, tbh. Man just wants to destroy an AU, but it keeps rebooting. :(

I also think Dream makes things laggy af. His radius is probably smaller, tho, so maybe it's less? I think that'd be part of why he's kinda warm.

Maybe Nightmare is not as warm because his body works like a cooler, but it could get really hot depending on situations.

Maybe he can get a hell of a lot cold if parts of his code get "innative"?

[returntosunder]

Day 2: Where it all began

[robots-are-kinda-hot]

New romantic Sans AU entourage x reader idea (under the cut, ‘cause it’s a little long):

Reader is something similar to a creator. They’re all powerful and like to watch over their carefully crafted “canon” multiverse that they made themselves, pouring over each original ‘Verse to create the perfect Multiverse (in their eyes, at least). I’d imagine the area they reside in is similar to the void. They could interact with their Multiverse if they wanted to, but that would ruin the “canon” to them.

Something happens, and our dear Reader is thrown into a fanon Multiverse. They are stripped of nearly all of their powers, except perhaps the ability to travel AUs.

Throughout the fic, they meet all the major fanon dimension-altering sanses and slowly start to become more open to fanon. Basically going from a Miguel O’ Hara mindset to starting to like these fanon skeletons.

Unfortunately for the Fanon skeletons, Reader can’t tell if something is romantic. Ever. So even if anyone (even Reader) catches feelings, Reader doesn’t ever get to know, because they eventually get their powers back just before anything romantic can happen in the Fanon Multiverse. They say their goodbyes to all the skeletons they met along the way, and go back to their “Canon” Multiverse.

Reader’s change of heart causes them to change a few things in their Multiverse- mending things that they had unintentionally broken with their iron fist (bringing back the real Nightmare, mending a little bit of Error’s broken mind, basically “undooming” characters from the narrative.) and actually going down to meet their skeletons, face to face. They don’t magically remove everyone’s trauma- just make it possible for them to change for the better.

Now, Reader can either stay here and develop feelings for the canon-adjacent sanses, go back to the Fanon Multiverse and do the same, or go back and forth. Your choice.

[yuriyuruandyuraart]

Opinions on Dream? :^

SO many feelings about him omgg rant under cut please forgive me

okay so i don't really talk or draw him much cause honestly,,,most of the times i just think he's a bit....boring? or more accurately plain? not in a mean way either but just in a 'fades into the background' type of way like don't get me wrong!! he's a really nice friend to his peers, his feelings about his powers and aura making his relationships harder to navigate and trust along with his whole conflict with nightmare and morality about what's good and bad IS very cool!! and i love it whenever they write him to be complex and not on this black and white mentality or when he's just straight up following along his friends with no free will or with a dubious purpose without ever addressing his issues or feelings! it's just unsatisfying to me :')

or when they're making him the 'naive' and oblivious, (sometimes childish?) character being marked as the obstacle and villain along with the other star sanses from the fic's pov, always talking about doing good things while fighting his brother and not hearing him out about the balance, (and for weak reasons most of the time. like it's been so long and you STILL haven't sat down with him when he's, generally, basically begged you to just have a talk? guys please :'( ) or when they go for the victim sad dream always missing the old nightmare, where corrupted nightmare is the incarnation of evil, with no sympathy or emotion except anger and sadistic glee, killing and hurting everyone and dream's just trying to protect the multiverse and dream's always been in the right. such extremes!!!

LIKE!! i hope i'm not the only one that thinks a 500+ year old should have had enough time to idk. learn things? about people and manipulation and deceit? after knowing what the villagers did to night? about the bad things in the world and how there's a lot of grey areas in life and that he maybe reflected on his past enough to process and ask himself if there should to be a convo to settle his differences with nightmare (and you can make nightmare the stubborn one too! or have them BOTH be petty and imperfect and have some things wrong and some right at the same time like why do i always see the good guy vs bad guy cliché with these two when they're the perfect example of why positivity doesn't have meaning without the negativity!! as long as there's a satisfying evolution or growth that doesn't leave me empty i'm good yknow?)

plus i believe dream really isn't as dumb as people view him. i do get some of you saying he probably can't read or write since that's actually a pretty interesting idea to explore! but in general please let him have emotions other than pure sunshiny happiness or endless sadness like he's gotta have more depth than that! let him make mistakes, have flaws that don't just make him the bad guy that's always in the wrong by default, and be angry or suspicious or jealous or bitter or battling his mental health problems/depression or malicious or smart or witty or mischievous and silly or sarcastic or ANYTHING dude i just want him to be put into different scenarios where he can be serious or lighthearted like it doesn't even have to be long or perfect but make him feel real.

it could definitely be that i don't read or see much art about dream or really look for it hard enough but also i just. i feel bad for even saying this fr and i wanna be honest about why i don't enjoy most stories about him cause he always gets the worst treatment along with ink!!! especially ink omg the poor guy has it the worst i think like wow do they mess him up :'(

always one dimensional in non shippy fics, or too plain or easily replaceable by other, more entertaining people in the significant other's life in most of his ships like man. i have read fics out there that made me genuinely FEEL and root for him and love his character so much it restored all hope for me!!! but i can only name one on top of my head and the others? it's been so long i don't even remember their names i just legit feel terrible cause i love him still and i can't find many headcanons that fit my interpretation of him yknow?

not to say people who write him very happy, mislead or sad are ruining him like that's silly- if i see something i don't like i just. move on bro i wouldn't force people to feel or think the same way i do about him cause anyone can have whatever headcanons they want!!! just talking about what i personally look for in him and why i can't exactly find it since most of the stuff out there just isn't my cup of tea :')

hopefully i didn't set anyone off with this rambling opinionated essay i just pulled hhh xD i know i know he's a popular character and i know a lot of people like dream so *sobs* please please recommend me artists and fics about him that you think is good it's been so looong since i've read or seen anything new that makes me attached to this little guy aughg<33333

[fingertipsmp3]

I love getting paid less than I was expecting and immediately spending an irresponsible amount of money on shit I don’t need

[arolesbianism]

Mark meeting ded is just gonna be him going btw have you heard of the music producer 8ballin' 👉👈? And ae is just gonna sit there like I've been in every wrong place that you can imagine for the past half a decade you tell me

[mischievousmoony]

hi i saw your request were open, and i really love you’re work and i was wondering if you could do something with james where the reader talks very quickly and quietly and often is told that she needs to speak up. and james always knows what she says and its kinda just fluffy? no worries if you don’t want to write!! have an amazing night/day

- 🪷

is this my first emoji anon? 🤭 thank u love, i had a lot of fun with this request

𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚊𝚔 𝚞𝚙

⟢ james potter x reader ⊹ 1.9k ⟢ warnings/tags: not bully per say but other students are rude, fluff

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

"Miss. Y/L/N, have you found a group to work with?" Professor McGonagall asks as students around you huddle in groups of four whilst you stand alone at your desk, packing your things.

You mumble a response as you stuff your books into your bag, attempting to flee the scene as fast as possible. It wasn't anything to do with Professor McGonagall, but rather the fact that you always felt a little scrutinized when talking to anyone in a position of authority.

McGonagall squints as she tries to decipher your words. She finds herself having to make a guess.

"If not, I am more than happy to assist in finding–"

"She's with us, Professor!" James jogs over, returning from enlisting members for your group. As you straighten out your leafs of parchment, James starts packing away your ink and quill for you.

"And 'us' entails?" Professor McGonagall questions.

With a casual flick of his thumb over his shoulder, James gestures to a pair of Ravenclaws standing by the door.

"Very well," McGonagall hums in approval before walking off to ensure any other stragglers have found a group before they depart.

James would prefer to have Sirius and Remus as the other half of your group, but McGonagall has permanently banned James and Sirius from working together ever since they turned a simple demonstration into their own personal stand up comedy gig, resulting in some arguably intentional mishaps in their spellwork.

You've just latched your bag closed when James takes it from you and slings it over his shoulder without giving it much thought. He’s always absentmindedly doing you little favors, like it's his second nature.

"So, Cody has nothing better to do on a Friday night, why am I not surprised?" James says teasingly. "He’s insisting we hit the library and get a head start on the project. You free right now?"

"I'm free," you confirm, looking over James' shoulder at your group mates.

You hate group projects for a multitude of reasons. At least with most Ravenclaws— especially the two you're partnered with, Cody and Isla— you don't have to worry about them not carrying their weight.

This makes your main concern having to work with people you don't know that well. All you did know about them is that they're the kind of Ravenclaws that other Ravenclaws say give them a bad rap. They have a raging superiority complex, and you’d be surprised that James is okay to work with them if you didn't know him. That boy thinks he can make a friend out of anyone, save for some rivals he has in Slytherin.

So, you’re mostly surprised that they want to work with the two of you, but that probably has something to do with James being at the top of the class. Otherwise, they wouldn't normally branch out to students outside of their house.

You suddenly feel uneasy, realizing that for this project, you’ll be the student that the others are weary of not pulling their weight. You feel your hands get clammy over the potential judgement running through Cody and Isla's heads as James leads you over to them.

"Are we going or what?" Cody asks rather unmannerly.

James opens the door for everyone, "Lead the way."

You filter out into the hallway. Soon, the four of you fall in step with each other as James throws an arm around your shoulders.

"How long are we planning to spend on this today?" Isla asks.

"Well, if we dedicate the afternoon to it, we could get all of the research out of the way in one go." Cody responds.

James meets your eye with a sideways glance, and an entire conversation is shared through a couple facial expressions.

His lips curl into a knowing half-smile, See? No plans.

Your eyes twitch with amusement before they shift toward the pair. A microscopic scrunch of your nose conveys, I don't want to spend the whole day with these people.

His face contorts, Me neither, and he shakes his head, we can't anyway.

Your head tilts curiously.

"We have plans later," James verbalizes.

"We do?"

“Sirius got his record player repaired.” James smirks, “And I may have some butterbeer and a certain record waiting for us back at my dorm.”

Your eyes widen with excitement, “James, you didn’t!”

“Oh, but I did.” James says proudly.

“Sorry,” Cody interrupts, “you can’t work on the project tonight because you have to go listen to music?” Cody asks, and the rhetoric nature and judgmental tone are lost on you.

You dive into an explanation on how it’s not just any music, but your favorite band’s brand album. And not just that, but the limited edition record complete with bonus tracks not available anywhere else.

The record was wildly out of your budget and although record stores far and wide all received copies, they didn’t receive very many. You had accepted that you would likely never get your hands on a copy, but you hadn’t accounted for James’ readiness to move mountains at your whim.

You excitedly speak about your favorite band and everything you know about the new record, and it’s like you can’t get the words out fast enough. James listens intently, grinning widely and nodding along with your every word, interjecting occasionally with commentary of his own. You're too busy raving to notice the shared look between Cody and Isla.

"Is this supposed to be a private conversation or are we expected to understand you?" Isla sneers as the four of you reach the library doors.

James' grin falters as watches your excitement fade. You mumble out an apology, which James found completely unnecessary.

His tone flattens out from amused to deadpanned as he addresses Cody's earlier question, both to alleviate some attention from you and to deliberately ignore Isla, "We'll stay for an hour, maybe two. But after that, yeah, we're going to go listen to music with our friends."

Ever the gentleman, even when annoyed, he holds the library's door open for everyone. He eyes the back of Isla's head with offense as she passes, but his eyes soften when you walk through next.

The four of you quickly find a table, as not many are occupied to begin with.

James musters up a semblance of professionalism as he forces himself to stop glaring at Isla as she and Cody begin to discuss a plan for the project. Cody takes it upon himself to divide up areas of research without consulting the rest of the table.

"Hold on," James' brows furrow at his audacity, "What if I don't want to be in charge of researching the wand mechanics? And Y/N has an exceptional understanding of magical theory, she should be in charge of the magical formulas."

Cody and Isla's eyes fall on you and this time you don't miss their criticism.

"You have an exceptional understanding of magical theory?" Isla's face contorts into that familiar sneer.

James doesn't try to hide the way he rolls his eyes. He nudges you, "What was it you were saying earlier? The idea you had for the project?"

You gulp before you dive into an explanation. It feels like Cody and Isla were burning holes through you with their stares, so you try to distract yourself by gazing down at your hands as you them wring together.

In the middle of your explanation—

"Couldn't you at least look up so that I might have a chance at reading your lips?" Cody grumbles.

If looks could kill, James Potter would be a wanted man.

"S- sorry," you practically squeak. You do look up, but the glare on Cody's face intimidates you into mumbling even more. Even the most skilled lip reader wouldn't have a clue as to what you are saying.

"Merlin, could you just speak up?" Cody snaps his fingers in your face and your words die in your throat.

James suddenly wishes he had a beater's bat handy.

"Oi! Get your hand outta her face!" He raises his voice to levels that would surely attract Madam Pince's shushing any minute.

Cody retracts his hand but stands by his actions, "We'll hardly get anything done today if she can't even speak clearly. How do you expect me to deal with this?"

"Alright then, new plan," James says through gritted teeth. He stands abruptly, and his chair scrapes loudly across the floor as it shoved back by his sudden ascent. "The two of us will research the wand mechanics and magical formulas on our own, you two can have the rest. I'll let you know where we'll go from there next class."

James' hand finds yours in a grip that is surprisingly gentle considering the way he is currently conducting himself. He tugs on your hand, prompting you to rise from your own seat.

"You're just going to leave?" Isla asks.

At the same time, Cody protests the plan, "There's no way that I'm accepting that."

"Well, Cody, if you wanted to be in charge, then I guess you shouldn't have been such a cun–"

"James!" This time you're loud enough to speak over James' biting words.

"See you in class" are James' parting words to the very stunned Cody as he pulls you away from the scene.

Once in the hall, James can't help himself from raging over Cody's behavior.

"What a slimy git! Who does he think he is?"

You squeeze the hand that James still has wrapped around yours as he tugs you through the halls.

"James," you call gently.

"Don't know why I said yes to working with them. They basically cornered me, I'll have you know! I should've ran the other way when I saw them–"

"James," you try again, more firmly.

"Maybe if we talk to Minnie on Monday we can get our group switched. You don't suppose we can work with Sirius and Remus considering these extenuating circumstances?"

You dig your feet into the floor, "James!" you call out one last time, finally earning his attention.

James spins to face you, his hold on your hand not letting up.

"Yeah?"

"Calm down, would you?" You're voice comes out tinged with laughter.

James' troubles melt away at the sound of your laughter. His eyes search your face for any sign that it's false.

"You're not upset?" he asks, knowing you've been sensitive in the past to people's commentary on the way you talk.

"No, the look on Cody's face when we stormed away was healing enough."

This earned a laugh from James, "It was pretty satisfying."

James gives your hand another tug so that you fall into step with each other again. He only drops his hold on you to sling his arm over your shoulders.

"Dunno why people become such dunces around you." A playful smirk dances on James' lips, "Distracted by that pretty face, maybe, whereas I know how to multitask."

You shake your head at his antics, but your lips can't be stopped from curling into a grin.

"I can't deny the fact that you're the only one who seems to always hear me."

In the past, you've considered the possibility that James can always tell what you're saying because you feel more comfortable around him than anyone else, prompting you to speak more clearly. In actuality, James doesn't even need your words to know what you're thinking. He's known you for a long time, and he's spent every minute of it learning everything there is to know about you. By now, he might know you better than he knows himself.

"I guess I just might be the luckiest guy around, then, that I don't have to miss a second of your charm."

You sigh at his teasing and knock your shoulder into his, completely missing the genuine adoration in his eyes as he studies the way you smile at his words.

He can't wait to see how your smile looks when you find out that record he got you is signed.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

[hwallazia]

OCEAN, BED, TATTOO – 정우영

synopsis . in which wooyoung tattoos your skin with ink... and with his lips.

pairing . jung wooyoung & fem! reader

genre . smut (mdni!), fluff & comfort, established relationship, tattoo artist! wooyoung

taglist . @bro-atz @purplenimsicle @vampzity @iykyunho | comment your username if you wanna be added to my permanent taglist! ♡

word count . 2,1k

DISCLAIMER! dom! wooyoung (he’s a teasing menace here) sub! (and very whiny) reader, fingering, clit play, light scratches, unprotected sex (boooo👎), tattoos involved, overstimulation, dirty talk, praise, petnames (my love, sweetheart, youngie & more). lmk if i missed anything.

NIC’S NOTES hey, i’m back at the game again after a long month full of exams !! i’m soo glad, i missed writing so much ♡ well, enjoy <3

tattoos aren’t as bad as people say. they look cool on your skin and they are aesthetically gorgeous. when you were about nine years old, your older sister, a few months after she came of age, got a tattoo of a beautiful, fine mandala on her right leg, and from that moment on, you were committed to tattooing your skin—probably the forearm, you often thought.

and you finally did it when you turned 20. with your sister’s company, you arrived at the tattoo parlor in search of a certain “wooyoung”, who would be the artist who would draw the permanent (and hopefully pretty) lines on your skin.

“excuse me. um, we’re looking for wooyoung? he’s supposed to be the tattoo artist for my sister.” your sister said to the man behind an old oak desk that seemed to be some kind of reception, her body leaning against the wood, elbows resting on it. 

“guess you’re looking for me then” a voice not participating in the conversation intervened. since you heard it coming from behind you, you turned around. just to meet the most good-looking, jaw-dropping, mouth-watering man you’ve ever seen, his figure leaning against the door’s frame that seemed to lead to his studio with his arms crossed in front of his chest, his notoriously pump chest.

“you must be yn.” he continued as he approached you and your sister’s position. “hi. i’m wooyoung.” he extended his right arm, placing his left hand under it. oh, he looks like a prince, a tattooed prince, but hush. “well, do you want to come in alone or do you want your sister to accompany you?”

fortunately, your sister could read you like a book. so when she saw your momentary inability to formulate coherent sentences —she’d later study the reasons why you suddenly were flabbergasted— and before you could say whatever thought your short-circuited mind processed, she answered for you. “go on. i’ll wait here. sometimes you gotta face situations without your dear older sister’s help, right?” she said as she ruffled your hair playfully, slightly messing up your hairstyle. an annoyed huff escaped from your lips with a small pout in reply. 

a cute, quiet snort came from wooyoung, your embarrassed heart racing a little at the sound of it. “come on, then” he tilted his head sharply indicating you to enter his studio. you walked side by side towards its door and before you both could pass the threshold, he stepped aside the door’s frame and extended his arm, his fingertips pointing to the inside of the room.

“ladies first” he uttered in a honey-dripping tone that made your heart skip a beat. and the warm smile he gave you after you locked gazes? double kill. heat flushed through your cheeks, now turning into a more reddened hue. when wooyoung saw your adorable, bashful face turning into a cute tomato, his eyes closed even more. two beautiful, heartwarming crescent moons decorating his eyes. you bowed your head slightly at the embarrassment and entered the studio. abstract art pieces hanging on the wall; a melting-type clock on the side of one of them; a few framed diplomas embellishing a narrow decorative table located below a large window, which gave the most beautiful view of the busy downtown of seoul and, at the same time, allowed the entry of divine natural light, changing the ambience completely. he also had some plants here and there.

“so, what did you have in mind for today?” he spoke as he reached for his chair, grabbing it by its back and pulling it to him so he could sit on it. his arms finding support on the top of the chair as his upper body vaguely leaned against it. “is it your first time?” he asked and turned around to prepare the tattoo machine by grabbing the black ink he’d possibly need.

“yes, um. it is, actually” you stuttered, trying to sound as clear and understandable as possible. “i thought about tattooing the word ‘resilience’ on my forearm. is that okay?” your eyes wondered between wooyoung’s fingers and the veins that came from them, a bottle of isopropyl alcohol in his right hand. 

“of course it’s okay. you’re the boss in here.” he chuckled a little at your stammering tone. ‘well of course it is, you’re the one getting the tattoo and paying for it anyway, so duh’ a bothering voice in your head replied to you, a soft huff from you was heard. “so, do you have an idea of how you want it to look?” he continued while he stretched the latex glove on his left hand and then replicating the action on his right.

“yeah, let me get my ph-” you started to say as you touched your upper body, and then your hips, and then your pockets, and then your pants... you had totally forgotten your phone, in which you kept the idea you saw on pinterest the other day of the tattoo you wanted to get. a murmured curse coming off your lips when you realized. “i, uh. i don’t have my phone with me right now. i... forgot it at home.”

“oh. well don’t worry! it happens to me more times than i’d like.” he laughed not too exaggeratedly. he wasn’t trying to piss you off by giggling at your disgraceful situation; he was comforting you in the best way he could because, after all, you were strangers. “hm. so do you wanna reschedule or-”

you didn’t think twice before responding by shaking your hands in front of you. “no! i trust you with it! it’s just a word anyway.” the words easily slipped out of your tongue, not a hint of doubt in the spark that glimmered in your orbs.

“but it’s your first tattoo-” wooyoung replied with notorious insecureness in his tone and you, unbothered, interrupted him.

“come on!” you spoke as you lifted your dark purple oversized sweater’s sleeve, revealing your soft skin to his fox-like eyes which doubted for a second before resting his slim, latex-covered fingers on your exposed skin. you were able to see a very close-up of the touch of his fingers against your skin, your hair standing on end as a result. his fingers sent shivers and sparks down your whole anatomy, a weird feeling forming in your belly and chest. you felt how his touch dragging flowers through the meadow of your complexion, creating the most beautiful garden.

who would say that that boy who marked your skin for life with his art would now be the one with whom you wake up every day, the one to whom you trust your most intimate secrets, the one whom you love and kiss every day. the one that makes you see stars.

like now, fucking his fingers sloppily from all the right angles into your wet cunt.

“youngie, wait i- hgh- i don’t wanna cum yet.” you whine as you grip the silk, champagne-colored sheets underneath you. he has spent a generous amount of time prepping you, playing way too much with your sensitive clit. and that has brought you to the brink of abyss. you want to cum when he finally fills you with his rock-hardened cock, but wooyoung seems to have no intention of stopping. he is a hundred-percent committed in making you cum as much as you physically can.

“huh? what’s that, sweetheart? didn’t quite catch that.” he mocks at you, deepening his index and middle fingers inside you and putting his thumb to work on your bud’s stimulation. a desperate cry bubbling out your throat. “but stop crying, baby. so you can respond.” his non-working hand releases its firm grip on your hip and moves up to your cheek to stroke it in the most gently way.

your voice lets you down, your tone drowning in the blubber that erupts from your lips once your body feels the consequences of wooyoung’s incessant thumb swaying over your clit. the palms of your hands sheltering your reddened cheeks.

he chuckles at the sight of you, “covering your face when you’re dripping all over my fingers?” he withdraws his fingers from your warm interior, your walls clenching around nothing due to the nostalgia of being satisfyingly full. he then covers your hands with his and takes them away from your blissed expression and pecks your lips briefly. “shameless.” 

he gets on his knees in between your legs, his hands pushing them apart before he bends over your figure, trapping you between his strong, tattooed arms. you have tried in the past putting your legs on his shoulder; and yes, he does push further than usual, but it was an uncomfortable and painful position for you. so you opted for simpler things, nothing so difficult so that it replaces pleasure with pain. wooyoung always puts your satisfaction over his, doing everything he can to give you the most toe-curling orgasm every time. and he never fails. 

your hands instinctively find comfort on his back, your fingers mindlessly stroking his back tattoo. “i’m putting it in, love.” he murmurs against the crook of your neck as he pushes in further and further, your nails digging onto his bare back. the combination of a masculine grunt and a whimper floats in the air, which is getting heavier and heavier. 

“holy shit- ah, wooyoung. you’re so.. fucking deep.” you blubber as you feel his cockhead faintly rubbing your g-spot. his thrusts are precise and strong, driving you quickly over the edge. his sighs blowing on your face as almost invisible clouds because of the humidity generated by the situation. 

“fuck baby. you feel so soft and warm. and tight” he exhals, some strands of hair sticking to his sweaty forehead. he does some kind of push-up to come down your face and kiss your swollen, red lips frantically. your tongues fighting and his winning over yours. “wanna stay inside you forever. ah.” wooyoung pants out his words, hips still going and knocking a little more roughly against your cunt with every push.

“i know you can give me a little more, though” he pants raspily, totally out of breath. your fucked-out mind can only process something about ‘wanting more’ or something like that, you don’t know, way too gone to even say your name without stumbling with your own words. you can only understand what he says when his very familiar touch lingers strokes on your clit, so swollen and tired of overstimulation. the cute, pleasured sounds coming out of you only encouraged him to speed up his fingers and his hips as well. he practically is wanting to break you completely until you aren’t able to even recognize where you are, your name or how much is two plus two. and wooyoung finds your current state quite amusing, so he starts to imitate you, mocking your broken sobs and pathetic mewls exaggeratedly. 

“if only you could listen to you right now. but you aren’t even listening to me, are you, doll?” he teases, enjoying a bit too much the tears that pitifully stream down your face profusely. your eyebrows furrow together, your thighs shake more than usual and you start feeling lightheaded; you’re about to fall into the abyss of pleasure and wooyoung is more than happy to receive your warm, dripping juices. 

“oh fuck, youngie. ’m gonna cum. you’re gonna make me cum. please let me... fuck... please, i—” you give up on the rambling begging and let yourself just helplessly whine and mewl.

“i know, my love. go on, cum for your youngie. make me proud, angel.” he encourages you, his fingers keeping a steady pace on your bud as well as his thrusts. three or four more are more than enough to melt you under his divine touch as your throat lets out the very last shriek of the night. “ah you’re so good, so fucking tight for your youngie, aren’t you? ugh” he shakes above you as he lets out a moan that sounded more like a cry. he quickly, but carefully pulls out, your body shuddering at the sudden emptiness, releasing hot shots of cum over your belly, painting your navel’s surroundings with pearl-like spurts.

he finally lets his body surrender to the overwhelming tiredness, collapsing above you.

“wooyoung. love. get off of me, i can’t breathe.” you speak, receiving a drowned and unbothered ‘mm’ as a response. you chuckle with the little strength you have left, “at least get off of my arm?” you try to negotiate with him the dumbest thing ever. but he finally does as told and moves a little to the side, releasing your right arm from his weight, “there you go. see? it wasn’t that hard.”

“hush. i’m sleepy. and tired” he mentions separately in a grumpy tone. of course, how could you forget the grumpiness that wraps your boyfriend when he runs out of energy?

“fine, babygirl.”

“don’t call me that!”

| masterlist

[imfinereallyy]

I wonder if you look both ways (When you cross my mind) pt. 2

pt. 1 pt. 3

🐝･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･✦ʚɞ

June 1996, Chicago

Steve doesn’t exactly know when Eddie Munson became one of his best friends, let alone when he fell in love with him.

He supposes both things occurred between the end of the world, and Eddie’s back walking out the door for the last time, unbeknownst to anyone. Though, that is five years of time, who’s to say when it really happened.

Dustin will argue the friend part. He likes to think it was he who brought them together (it certainly wasn’t; in fact, it put a real bump in the road for them). Dustin also thinks, which Steve is more inclined to think is true, that the two of them had become friends during Eddie’s slow recovery and Steve’s guilt complex, which made him feel responsible for him.

Which—ouch, Dustin—but years of therapy would prove him right.

Little shit.

Dustin doesn't know about the love part, though, and Steve doesn’t think much of the party knows except for one or two of the perceptive ones.

Looking at you, Lucas.

Robin likes to argue that Steve doesn’t know when he fell in love with Eddie because Eddie was different from everyone else.

Steve puts everything into love, moves fast, falls hard, and ultimately gets crushed by his own passion. Steve doesn’t know how to take things slow or wait around for the right person.

Until he did, with Eddie.

Steve managed to have a slow decent into the madness of loving a man like Eddie Munson. And he never did anything about it, although he didn't mind. Steve was okay with just being friends and loving from afar.

Until they weren't even that, and Eddie was gone.

Steve can't think about that now, instead he should probably worry about the man himself breaking into his apartment at 3 a.m.

"Get. Out." Robin hisses, breaking Steve from his thoughts.

Suddenly, Eddie stands. His hands thrust forward in a placating nature, and nervous energy radiates off of him. "Robin, please—"

"No, Munson. You don't get to disappear from our lives for five years, and then break into our apartment!" Robin whisper shouts, the metal bat waving around in her grip.

Steve still hasn't said anything, still unsure of any of it is really happening. But he can't help but warm at Robin's fierceness.

She will go down swinging for Steve, even against someone she cares about.

Fuck, he loved her.

"Give me one good reason not to bash your skull in with this thing, Munson. I dare you!" Robin took the metal bat and pushed it into Eddie's chest.

Steve gets a good look at him as he stumbles backward. He doesn't look much different—well that's a lie. He does look different; more tattoos, more piercings and Steve is pretty surprised to catch him wearing anything other than a band tee. It is just so all quintessentially Eddie. The jewelry is all silver, any tattoo he got after 1986 appears to be in black and red ink only. Even his tee is still black despite the lack of a band on the front.

"Birdie, I don't think you should have Steve's bat in your hands, you're a bit dangerous." Eddie tries to grab the bat from her hands but Robin yanks it back.

"Oh, fuck you, Munson! You don't get to call me Birdie, and this is my bat. Steve's is wooden and full of nails and underneath his bed. You should know that, or has the last five years really rotted your brain?" Robin is now waving the bat around with gusto, nearly missing Steve's head at one point.

Trying to shake himself from his frozen state, Steve decides it is probably in everyone's best interest if he steps in.

"Robs." Steve speaks gently, hand on the bat as he slowly lowers it down. Her shoulders drop, the fight draining out of her in seconds. "It's okay."

It's not okay. Steve doesn't understand what's happening right now. But Steve is okay as long as he has Robin, and Robin has him. Steve hopes she understands that's what he meant.

Robin nods her head, and shuffles closer to him.

Steve takes a shaky breath, "What are you doing here, Munson?"

Eddie cringes at the use of his last name but doesn't comment. "Listen, I know it's weird me just stopping by suddenly—"

Robin snorts, "I wouldn't exactly call breaking in 'stopping by'."

Eddie shakes his head, ignoring her. Stray curls start to fall loose from their bun. "I just want to talk, for you guys to hear me out."

Steve rubs a hand down his face, he is getting too old for this stuff. Being blindsided, being surprised—being thrown sideways and upside down. Sure, twenty-nine isn't exactly old, but Steve has lived practically six different lifetimes by now. There is so much damage to him—physically and emotionally. He is supposed to be past nonsense like this.

Robin takes his silence as permission to snip at Eddie, "No. Go away, Eddie. You don't get to do that. Get out."

Eddie moves a step forward, he is now illuminated completely by the side table's light. He looks tired—good but tired. It's not the kind of tired you see of someone in distress, not the ache that comes along in the tunnel that has no light in the end. No, Eddie looks tired in the way that comes with healing. Like working hard exhaustion. As if coming home from a long but good day at work, and the night grows weary.

Eddie opens his mouth to argue, but Steve cuts him off. "It's fine, Robbie. It's late; let him crash on the couch."

Eddie's shoulders sag in relief, "Thanks, Stevie, we can talk—"

"No." Steve chokes out, moving his hand towards his throat so he can remember to breathe. "You don't get to call me that. And we're not talking about anything. You'll sleep here, but that's it. I might not want you here, but it doesn't mean I'm going to let you wander the streets at night."

"Steve, please—" Eddie reaches out his hands to touch Steve. It is most likely going to be a gentle touch, but Steve can't help the way he violently flinches.

Eddie looks taken aback, eyes wide and full of sadness. He pulls his hands back.

"No, Eddie." Steve grabs Robin's hand and starts to pull her to bed. She doesn't protest and instead leans into his touch. Steve turns over his shoulder to look at Eddie again. "You'll stay the night. It's not an option. But my morning? I want you gone. I don't want you to be the first thing I see after sunrise."

Steve turns quickly back around, ignoring the pained grunt from behind him.

Bypassing Robin's bedroom, Steve pulls them both into his. Robin doesn't question it and instead makes herself comfortable in his forest green blankets.

Steve quickly follows after, snuggling into the bed beside her. People have thought them weird over the years—always in each other's spaces and knowing every little thing about each other. Partners, friends, family—all of them had something to say about it, never even bothering to understand.

Well, except Eddie. Eddie appreciated it, accepted it. Adored it at times.

"Are you really okay with this, Dingus?" Robin whispers softly between them.

"No." Steve never lies to Robin; she'll know. "Not at all, but I'm not going to let him wander the streets, no matter what I loved him at some point. I don't let the people I loved, get hurt."

Robin squints in pity, "Loved?"

"Not now, Bobbie," Steve whispers.

Robin nods, "Besides, I'm pretty sure 'Ed Sloane' can afford a fucking hotel room."

Steve lets out a loud snort, it echoes throughout the room. "God, don't remind me. What a stupid fucking name."

The two of them dissolve into giggles, bumping their heads together. Under the covers, they clasp their hands together tight. "I just don't want you to derail your life, for someone who walked so easily out of it. I know you have that important lunch with Drew tomorrow."

Steve takes a breathe through his nose, "Yea, I do. But it'll be fine. He'll be gone before I'm even up. You know Eds, he's a runner. Wouldn't stop trying to prove it, in fact."

Robin's face is scrunched in pain, and her eyes pool with pity. It's as if she knows something Steve doesn't or sees something he chooses to ignore. She doesn't comment on it, though. Instead, she raises an eyebrow, "Eds?"

It isn't snippy or accusing. Her voice is soft against his cheek. Steve doesn't have the mental capacity to argue though. "G'night, Birdie."

"Goodnight, Stevie." She whispers.

Steve closes his eyes, knowing it will all feel like a dream tomorrow.

Steve is familiar with having dreams with Eddie in them.

🐝･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･✦ʚɞ

more to come i promise, especially after your (loving demands). especially my mutuals who yelled at me in the tags and my dm's (it made my day).Part 3 is currently being typed up. Also might fuck around and make this a full-blown ao3 one shot; who knows.

tag list!:

@stevesbipanic @withacapitalp @emryyyyy09 @brainfugk @blueberrylemontea-fanfic

@slv-333 @thetinymm @connected-dots-st-reblogger @helpimstuckposting @dreamercec

@goodolefashionedloverboi @stripey82 @little2nerdy @anne-bennett-cosplayer @resident-gay-bitch

@ghostquer @sourw0lfs @devondespresso

(please let me know if you don't want a tag, I had to guess by the comments, and sorry if you’re getting a random tag after posting, I had to fix the tag list cause tumblr is weird)

[justporo]

You might (probably not) have seen a post from me today saying I was feeling empty and exhausted. I deleted that because I figured nobody would wanna see me cry on main all the time, so yeah... I feel better now though, don't worry.

Still I had very self-indulgent thoughts today, that I will share because three cheers for turning bad energy into positive stuff:

Headcanons for Astarion comforting his partner

Oh gods, you're almost already crying: your lips are already wobbling and your eyes are dangerously wet. What's a vampire gonna do about it?

Astarion is really lost about what to do, but he knows for sure: he really doesn't want you to cry or feel sad

"What's wrong, love? Did I do something wrong?"

He's definitely worrying and overthinking about if he's the reason behind your tears

The rock dropping from his undead heart when you eagerly shake your head though

So he awkwardly drags you into a hug and strokes your back while you just let tears flow

He holds you as long as you need to, just being there and willing that you'll feel better soon

"Do you want to talk about it, my heart? Maybe putting it into words will help you send it away."

Astarion will get better about this the more he learns about his partner and he's eager to be prepared the next time this happens: for example, learning what kind of hot beverage you love, to prepare it (specially with something fancy to make it even better and he calls it "à l'Astarion" with a wink and it makes you giggle with it already)

Astarion will absolutely try and make you feel better by cracking absolutely stupid jokes: "You know, I really didn't think water elves did exist. But you're the living proof aren't you, my sweet sad darling?" (The jokes are terrible... but that's why they cracked you up so much)

He'll also really listen to what you tell him helps and he'll try his best to make you happy again as soon as possible

Sometimes that entails just letting it all go while he simply holds you, humming a lullaby and swaying you in his arms

He nuzzles his face in your hair, the top of your head

Also lots of loving kisses of course

Sometimes he just talks and talks until you peacefully drift into dreams in his arms and he'll smile at you, seeing how your face has become relaxed again and wrap you in a blanket on the sofa or carry you to bed carefully

And after a good cathartic cry: "Feel better now, love? Then let me run you a bath - and join you if you want..."

Then sometime he'll have it figured out and just needs a bit of input to figure out what will help: "No no, my sweet, you will not just sit here and spiral! Do you want to go for a walk?" You shake your head. "Smash some old mugs and curse all the Gods?" More head-shaking. "Want me to grab ink and paper and write down an action plan with you?" Still head shaking. "Alright, darling, you're making this a hard nut to crack. How about I make you some fresh tea, wrap you in some blanket and read you a Drizzt story?" You eagerly nod your head and wrap your arms around the suddenly flustered vampire, also maybe rubbing your snotty nose on his shirt a little. Entirely on accident of course. "Ugh, and you're also getting some tissues, you nasty little gremlin."

[aakeysmash]

cw: toxic relationship. sukuna x f!reader. angst. suggestive. no happy ending. unedited because i can't be bothered.

it’s been years since you last heard his name.

it happens randomly. it's cold outside, your breath forming little clouds near your mouth, making you look like a smoker. you're walking inside a cafè after a long day, trying to warm up your hands and face, when, suddenly, you hear it.

a couple just exited from the door you were about to enter in. you don’t know why you stop to look at them, but you do. they're a bit awkward, averting their gazes, and you don't think the cold is the reason why their cheeks are reddening. fingers fidgeting, mouth gaping before closing suddenly.

"i had a really nice day," murmurs the girl. one of her hands is scratching her ear, the other beside her mouth to warm it up. "wanna do it again?"

"i work tomorrow," responds the guy. a wince. a glance to her lips. a subtle half step to get closer to her.

"oh," her face falls. she retreats on herself.

“but we can still see each other,” he rushes out.

a hopeful look. another subtle half step, from her this time. "where do you work?"

"sukuna's corporations, you know, down the street?"

sukuna. your eyes widen. your breath stops. a chill runs down your spine.

the outlines of the couple and of the café blur. suddenly, you're thrown back in time. you see your face in front of you, but you look weird. younger. innocent.

you’re ten. books are all scattered around you, a big red imprint of a hand on your cheek. your mother is high, tumbling over her words and tripping over her feet, screaming at you in the library. everyone is watching, but you don’t shed a tear. you’re so used to this. security comes, just like last week, and the one before that. a boy a little older than you pushes your mother away, offers you a hand to get up from the floor. you notice him: smirk that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, pink hair, black inked bands on his outstretched wrist, probably done by himself without any parental agreement. let’s get you out of here. i’m sukuna.

the scene changes. you’re sixteen. your left ear is bleeding, but a hand reaches out to dab a cotton piece on it. a whisper. an attempt to comfort you from behind you. you try to turn around but you seem to be unable to. it's okay, baby, you look so much hotter like this, i promise. his voice is all around you. condescending, like he always was. more mature than the last scene, almost as if he developed. he’s eighteen, of course he developed.

the scene changes again. you’re outside of a club, he’s coughing blood. he just got out of a fight, you think. you’re crouching to give him a napkin, your hand on his back to reassure him. he grins up at you, red staining his usually pearly white teeth. your breath gets caught again. did his eyes always look so void? i love you, baby, you know that, don’t you? a lie. a smile. a kiss that tastes like iron.

then, the scenes in front of your eyes blur, like a massive sped up version of your last decade.

a cat on the street, you scratching its furry chin, looking up at the man behind you. it reminds me of you when it purrs, sukuna. a bored look. your smile dropping. a fake smirk, his fake kiss on your cheek. you're so cute, i love it. another lie.

his first car, you in the passenger seat, his hand on your thigh, a song playing in the background. i feel like this is our song, baby. a laugh. a kiss. you two fucking in said car, his breath on your ear, your moans in his. never cum like this for anyone else, do you understand? a nod. i love you, sukuna. he doesn't answer.

him moving in with you, buying you flowers every monday, because you told him you love flowers. you're everything, sukuna. tongues swirling. one of his hands grabbing your left boob. i'll always care about you, baby. a bite on your neck. insincere words floating too high for you to see them.

drinking coffee on a snowy morning, him working on his computer, getting snappy when you ask what he's doing for the third time. i'll be big some day. not like you. your gasp. his indifference.

you and him on a jog, him forgetting you’re there, flirting with a girl that passes by. your hurt look. a sorry, whispered on your lips with a flower behind your ear ten minutes later. i only have eyes for you. your faith in him. his averting gaze.

a man groping your ass. his fist colliding with the man's jaw. never touch my fucking girl again. happiness on your face. his arm draped over your shoulder. him massaging your calfs when you get home. you're mine only. forever. don't forget that. his kisses. his possessive hold on your hips when you sink on his cock.

him wiping your tears. him making you cry. him making you laugh about something stupid on his phone. more tears. love letters on your kitchen counter, signed with his name. glasses rimmed with lipstick in the sink, but you don't own that color. messy sheets after you fuck like animals on his birthday. the house empty on yours. his things gone. no texts. no calls. no signs that tell you he's been living inside your house, your head, your heart for 15 years. your fingers frantically pressing his phone number on your keypad for a month straight, going to voicemail. can you come home? did i do something wrong? please, sukuna, i'll be better. i'll never complain about anything ever again. i promise. just come back to me. you're all i want... you're all i have. i'll be whoever you want. whatever you want. please.

your gaze focuses on the café in front of you again. the couple isn't there anymore, and it makes you wonder how much time you spent out here, freezing. it looks like he made it, at the end. you ignore the poster with his company's name near the street you came from.

it happens randomly.

you put your feet one after the other, entering the café.

randomly.

[lemmesayimyourbiggestfan]

Make me

Sirius Black x fem!reader

in which James planned you a blind date with your nemesis

requests are open!

word count: 2,1k

warnings: language, drinking

...

"I'm so tired of all the boys. I swear, there is not even one normal man here in Hogwarts." you grumbled despairingly as you landed on the couch in the common room next to James.

"Oh sweetheart, so I take it the date didn't go as planned?" he chuckled.

You covered your face with your hands and loudly exhaled.

"Well, we did go to Hogsmeade but instead of Honeydukes he took me to Scrivenshaft's quill shop. Stop laughing, this isn't even the worst part. He then kept blabbering on about some new type of rainbow ink that he, in his own words, just has to buy."

At least James tried to not laugh as much as he desired to, though you wouldn't blame him - because what the actual fuck.

"Oh, I just love hearing of your escapades, Y/N. Such a shame, though; me and Lily are desperate to find another couple to go on double dates with." he smiled while pouting his lips mockingly. You punched his arm with surprising strenght.

"Just no more guys like Mr. Rainbow Ink, please." you laughed.

James looked as if he wasthinking of something and after a moment of silence, his whole face lit up and you knew that whatever he thought of was no good.

"Just leave it to me, 'kay? I'll find the perfect guy for you and arrange a blind date."

"Fuck no." you said immediately, knowing that James would singlehandedly mess up.

"No, no, just hear me out, okay? I will take this job seriously, in my own interest. I promise not to make a joke out of it."

You rolled your eyes in answer but didn't argue further.

"Plus, I think I have the perfect candidate."

At that moment, you should've already known that something will go really, really wrong.

...

Three days later, James already had everything planned out and was nearly jumping with excitement. Well, you didn't really share that feeling. But for some reason, seeing your childhood bestfriend so invested in finding you the best match made you soften and not argue that much.

"You know that this Friday is the Celestial ball, right? So, your date will pick you up at five and please, dress nicely so he doesn’t change his mind. Yeah, that's probably all you need to know." he gave you a wicked grin.

"Why the secrecy?" you raised an eyebrow at your friend.

"Nothing, just making sure it's an unfiltered experience for you."

“At least if he turns out to be another idiot, I have an excuse to get hammered.” you grinned.

“That’s the spirit!” James bumped your shoulder excitedly and you couldn’t help but smile at his childish happiness.

But when you tried to think of even a single person with whom he would set you up, your mind went blank.

Who are you gonna be, stranger?

…

In preparation of the upcoming ball, Lily and Dorcas braided your hair into a sort of messy half-up-half-down hairstyle and you girls shared quite a laugh when they tried to get you into your very - very - tight dress.

With your black high-heels on, you examined yourself in the mirror. Your Y/H/C hair looked so sexy tied liked that and you decided to go with the same messy vibe regarding your whole look. From the smudged black kohl lining your eyes and the bold dark-red lipstick to your floor length burgundy dress with black lace adoring its edges. Oh, it might have been just a bit too slutty for such an occasion, but you didn't mind at all. You and Marlene always enjoyed wearing things just a smudge out of pocket.

You also liked shy boys stuttering when they looked at you. You hoped your escort would be one of those. You grinned at the thought and left your room with a light step.

"I see you take this date seriously." James nodded at you approvingly as he watched you approach him in front of the Great Hall.

"Yeah, yeah, dream all you want." you rolled your eyes. "Where is he?"

"Darling, getting all pretty and dressed up for me today, aren't you?" a voice purred behind you and it affected you in the same way a bucket of icy water would.

Oh no. Oh fuck no.

"Are you fucking serious?" you gritted your teeth at James and he paled when he saw the murderous look on your face. He better.

"Darling, he’s with Lily, remember? He wouldn’t be fucking me. But you, on the other hand… You know how my usual dates go."

You turned to face that ridiculously handsome face of Sirius Black. That fucker was you nemesis since the moment he saw you on the Hogwarts Express sharing a booth with James. It didn’t matter to you that James found a guy bestfriend – you were okay with sharing the same pedestal with another – but Sirius, on the other hand, just purely despised you for it. So after two yers of trying to settle this tension between you two, you gave up and started to treat him the same way he did.

And that nickname, that god-forsaken nickname; it drove you crazy and you both knew it.  

”I’m not spending even a second of my time on this… existence.” You spat at James instead, wisely ignoring that egoistic shit and silencing all your witty retorts. In your fourth year, you once wrote an entire list of those retorts, spending all your nights sitting crouched over that one piece of paper with anger flowing freely in your veins.

Obsessed much? a small voice in your head whispered.

“I think that if you give this a chance-“

“No. Fucking. Way.”

“Angry already, darling?” Sirius purred and your knuckles turned white from you trying so hard not to break his perfect nose.

“Wipe that smirk off of your face before I do it for you.” You have been such a fool for trusting James to do just one thing right. Now you would do anything to be here with any of the guys you were previously complaining about. But instead, you were left with the only person you truly hated. So much for an unfiltered experience.

“Oh, are you gonna kiss me, Y/N?” Sirius smiled even wider.

“This was probably not a good idea.” proclaimed Lily as she approached you three.

“Probably not.” James nervously tugged at his hair.

You and Sirius were just staring daggers at each other. And after deciding this staring contest was fucking ridiculous, you just turned on your heel and began walking back up the stairs.

“Oh, darling, leaving so soon?” Sirius shouted at you and every head in the hallway turned your way. You turned around and bared your teeth at him, not caring that you probably looked like a wild animal.

“Stop fucking calling me that.” Your voice was cold as you took the tree steps it took to reach him. Even though Sirius was towering over you, you felt as if you were looking down your nose at him.

“What, darling?” he puffed, one corner of his lips turning up. He was toying with you, you knew it. And you hated that he knew it, too.

“Yes.”

“Or what?” Sirius stepped closer and you felt the tips of your shoes touching his. With every rise of your chest you could feel the fabric of his shirt.

Before you could say anything back (which would be hard because, apparently, your mind just went blank at Sirius’ closeness), James tugged at your elbow and walked you to an alcove nearby.

“What the fuck, James?” you spat at his accusingly. He winced at your words as if you had hit him.

“I just- Well, I don’t have to justify my gut feeling to you, but I think you guys should get over your hating phase and start acknowledging the chemistry between you two,” he whisled slowly at that, “So please, hate me all you want tomorrow. But tonight, just give him a chance.”

You looked over his shoulder back to Sirius. He was talking to Lily and it wasn’t a smirk on his face but a soft smile that has not even once been aimed at you. That fact made you queasy. You knew he wasn’t always an asshole – it was only in your presence that he got so riled up. But, you thought, it would be nice to be smiled at just like that.

“Okay. But just tonight.” You were surprised by your own words. Were you an idiot for saying that? You didn’t know.

“Thanks,” James sighed, relief lacing his words. He took your elbow again and brought you back to the group.

“I’m gonna get myself a drink. Maybe two.”

Lily giggled at James’ words and grabbed onto his arm and the two of them hurriedly left. That meant you and Sirius were left alone, which was very, very dangerous. You started walking to the bar without looking back at your escort, because all you really needed at that moment was a strong ass drink.

“Firewhiskey, right?” Sirius asked you when he caught up to you. No matter how fast you tried to go, he infuriatingly and casually kept his pace next to you.

You raised an eyebrow at him. In answer, he shrugged. “I just know.”

You tried to shake off the feeling that embraced you after realizing he somehow knew your favourite hard liquor.

 You also didn’t know how to react to the fact that Sirius paid for his and your drinks that some students smuggled into the party for a laughably ridiculous price.

As he handed the cold glass to you, your fingers touched, just barely. You told yourself your heartbeat was quick because of your temper, no other reasons.

“I don’t think you realize just how angry you make me.” You smirked ironically at Sirius, the alcohol already burning sweetly in your throat.

“I have that much of an effect on you? I should be flattered.” Sirius retorted. But it was not an angry answer, just…. A playful one. And you had no idea what to do with that.

“Don’t think you’re all that, Sirius.” You rolled your eyes. “Should I ckeck for a poisoned drink? Or a love potion?”

You knew you were dancing on the edge of a very sharp knife. But somehow, that made it much more fun.

“Don’t think of me so poorly, darling. As if I needed a love potion to get you on your knees and beg.”

“In your dreams, Black.”

“Yes, in my dreams, darling.”

You froze at that. Was he actually impying he dreamt about you being on your knees, begging before him? But of course he did, that arrogant prick. He always had to feel superior.

But that didn’t stop the blood from seeping into your cheeks - but you blamed your blush on the firewhiskey.

So in answer you just took another sip of your drink. Were you an idiot for flirting with him? But were all those quarells of your shared pasts actually any different from flirting? You’ve never been so confused.

“You really aren’t making this any easier.” Sirius mumbled but instead of your eyes he looked around the room. Thank Merlin the music was so loud that any awkward silences were swallowed up by it.

“As if you are?” His eyes met yours and you had to fight the instinct to fight with him, to get closer to yell at him - or get closer to kiss him?

Instead you got yourself another drink, just so you could do something with your hands.

“Slow down, tiger. Didn’t think you actually hated my presence so much you would rather get hammered.” Sirius mockingly frowned and before you could react, he snatched the glass from your hand.

“Give it back, you little fucker.” You growled and tried clawing at his raised arm. But he was a lot taller than you and to be honest, your attempts were just meaningless.

“Make me.” And maybe it was that crooked smile of his, or how good he looked in his suit or how soft his hair looked in the dim lights, that made you reach on your toes and kiss his infuriating dirty mouth that made you want to combust most of the time.

How was it possible that his lips were so intoxicating but the words that usually came out of it were so infurating?

But you forbid yourself to think of all those things. Instead you now easily reached for his hand and grasped your glass, snatching it from Sirius’ weakening grip.

“Made you.” You smiled. The bewildered look on his face was worth it. “I didn’t fluster you, did I?”

Sirius gave a startled laugh. “You clever little vicious thing.”

And he leaned into you, his nose touching yours, your breaths mingling. “Now do it again.”

[opal-owl-flight]

TIRED OF WAITIN’ MAKE UP YOUR DAMN MIND

YEAH ITS ALRIGHT, WE BOTH KNOW THAT YOU WANT IT, DONT YOU BE SO SHY, SHY!

OH MY GOD I LOVE STARKILLER WIDNEKD. I had this idea for Tartar manipulating 3 with words similar to the song…

more abt that below + the piece without the words :]

I wonder if 3, at that point in OE, carry a thought within them... something Tartar can use.

The sanitization is absolute mind control, yes, but it would be neat if it was preceded by a sort of hypnosis; a suggestion that tartar puts out for a victim to bite onto (not that it really matters. The forced body control happens anyway.)

Theres a yearning for the past. That much I know. But I do wonder if Tartar also suggested something else alongside that.

"Ah, the legendary captain of the Squidbeak Splatoon. He probably was the one who pulled you out of that life, hm?"

"...Yes."

"Despicable, this old coot, forcing you to fight a war that ended a century ago. Forcing you to dig up a city your nation already buried.

Making you a weapon in this...disgusting show of continued dominance."

"..."

"Dont you want to end him, right here, right now?"

"...."

"Avenge that younger self, child. Join me, and we will make sure he never hurts you again."

"..."

They look at Cuttlefish. Cod, theyre so weak, their head hurts, they are in no shape to defend themself. Neither is the old man, but...

Their hearts were burning with a feeling theyve been burying for years. A feeling thats gotten stronger and stronger over the long patrol.

This...doubt. Towards the captain they followed the ends of the earth for. Day by day, being pushed to their limits for his continued war. Wanting his approval, wanting to make him proud. Believing that theyre indeed keeping this fragile world safe.

Wanting to...keep being this hero he said they were.

But its getting harder to believe those words now. Not when that Octarian from earlier was such a sweet soul...among others theyve encountered and observed in other patrols.

Their arm burned. It was drenched in that cyan ink the telephone was oozing.

They have no reason to trust this thing that almost killed Cuttlefish and that Octarian that he was with moments before.

Still...

They feel...

Their mind is slipping.

So tired...so hurt...

"Join me. I can give you rest.

Ill bring you...to the promised land."

"...Okay."

--------

They went fully unconscious for awhile. When they "awoke" (but is still under Tartar's control), they were already fighting 8. And their body hurt even more than before.

They never shouldve trusted him.....

--------

This baiting rings familiar, doesnt it. Order did it to 4, as well. Much to 3s horror, they were the reason she took that bait. Her desire to be their perfect agent, and their desire to never be hurt or used by anyone like Cuttlefish again...

They wanted her to be strong enough so she can stay safe and live her life the way she wanted to. But their fear spoke louder than their adoration for her.

Hurt people hurt people, cycle of violence, and all that.

[n3ptoonz]

Hello! Can you write Baraka, Syzoth, Kenshi and Liu Kang reacting to an s/o who likes to trace their tattoos. (Also tattoos are hot)

hiya and i certainly can anon! (i fully agree. whenever i see THAT raiden skin i literally want to jump through a closed window)

mk1 hcs: how baraka, syzoth, kenshi, and liu kang react to their s/o tracing their tattoos

warnings: none; fluff

Baraka

Would be confused at first. He had lost most of his sense of humanity since his affliction, so he'd think you just got bored or wanted his attention

When you explained how his tats were interesting and wanted to know the reasons/origins of them, he was genuinely surprised. Nobody has ever asked him such a thing, let alone pay that much attention to him or his tattoos

Now he doesn't mind it and lets you do as you please. He purposely wears sleeveless shirts around you all the time just so you'll get the idea to trace his tats later

Syzoth

Since the first noticeable tattoo is on his face, he'd get startled the first time you did it. You were waiting for him to wake up one day and became interested in them suddenly

He'd ask what's so cool about tattoos in the first place since he's not originally human. It's not that he doesn't value them, but to him they are more important in the sense of they reminded him of his family (i made that shit up don't quote me), not necessarily "cool" and you had to explain you took interest in all the above

Now he fully welcomes it and would probably go as far as being around you more often to get you to notice and engage in some form of physical touch that ends up in tracing his tattoos

Kenshi Takahashi

I feel like sometimes he didn't like his own tats. Being a former Yakuza and all, he wouldn't get why you think they're cool. You tell him despite their origin they objectively look really cool and make him look even cooler/finer and now he's a happy camper

Whatever his thoughts were slowly vanished out of his own mind. Though he can't really see them anymore, he likes that someone he's in love with is for one not scared away by his past but also thinks they make him look cooler? After a while he'd start appreciating them himself

Also the type of man to walk around the house either shirtless or a tank top more often because "he gets hot easily" righttt righttttt. He loves the sensation of your touch on his body too. I'll never stop advocating for him appreciating other senses more post losing his sight!!!

Liu Kang

He has a lot of tats so like, he's going to think you're asking for a lil alone time wink which he doesn't oppose to but sometimes you simply just find interest in appreciating his ink

He will not shy away from telling you the origins and history behind each and every one. He'd even show you the ones he got for fun. He may be a god, but he was human first who lowkey liked to have as much fun as his comrade, Kung Lao, he was just better at hiding it

He now offers you to do it while you're cuddling or just chilling around each other; in reality he looks forward to it since he's never heard of such a fascinating with something like tattoos and it brought you two closer

a/n: i hope this was good enough! i've been writing so much lately just in general my brain is kinda mush ngl but i ain't no bitch! plus i gotta think more for smut so i went for fluff lol

[zep-zep-blog]

If I had a nickel for each time I made a oneshot based off a prompt from @timeslugarts I would have two nickels, which isn't a lot, but it's weird it happened twice.🧍🏼‍♂️

Vox x gn!reader

Genre: Fluff, hurt/comfort

Cw: Talk of sex, mentions of feeling not good enough

The last red rose🌹

Reader feels like Vox is ashamed or embarrassed by their relationship and a drunk Valentino only solidifies those thoughts.

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You were Vox's prized diamond, a rose surrounded by thorns, the last unicorn in his eyes. You were kind, thoughtful, funny, tons of stuff the average sinner wasn't. He went to several lengths to make sure your beauty was safe and protected from the several news channels and overlords that were looking in. Unfortunately, his actions came off as him being ashamed of your relationship with you. It made you feel like you would never be enough to be seen with him in public.

Valentino had made another borderline porn film and Vox chose to go to the red carpet premiere with Velvette to support his friend and fellow overlord. You sat in your shared bed, wanting to stay in and not watch the smutty movie Val produced. The silk sheets rubbed comfortably against your skin as you settled into a more comfy position. Watching as the camera panned over other famous demons, hellborn, and overlords. The camera then focuses on Vox, bringing a subconscious smile to your face as you see him answer questions and look into the camera.

"Are you seeing anyone?" The journalist asks, shoving the mic into his face. Before he could answer a drunk Valentino takes it and giggles, "We are like rabbits." This made you sit up, shocked as he went on and on about different bedroom acts. This felt like a red, hot iron strike your heart. How dare he just let him speak like that when he knows you're watching. All for an image to sinners that he said were less important, less worthy of his time, less worthy of him.

His laugh was what broke you, that nonchalant chuckle he made when he tried to escape awkward situations. Warm tears started to roll, muffled sobs escaping your mouth as you covered it with your hand. You were angry. The man you loved, cherished, and planned on marrying one day just betrayed you after his actions made you think you were nothing more than some toy he could play house with.

When he comes home he's shit-faced drunk, removing his jacket and throwing it to the floor, expecting to cuddle with you. Unfortunately, he was only met with a cold bed and messy sheets, a clear sign you were here, but you were nowhere to be seen. This sobered him up a bit, he did everything to protect you, but he failed. That is until he found the note, at first he thought it was a ransom note or something, but it was your handwriting. He read the scribbled ink;

'I went somewhere else. As I know you're probably embarrassed by me, so I hope you're happy with Valentino'

This shook him to his core, he tried everything to keep you out of the public eye for your safety only to be the reason you left. He crumpled the note, cursing under his breath. He did this and now he has to fix it. He collected all the photos he had and wrote a script up for his nightly talk show.

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He addressed the journalist's question and Valentino's response. Stating that his relationship with Val was only friendly and platonic and that he was very much in love with someone else. Pictures of your first date, birthdays, holidays, even one of Vox sleeping faded in and out slowly on the screen as he talked about his genuine feelings and how he felt about your relationship, and his reasons to keep you hidden.

He talked about how your nose scrunched when you giggled and how you held his hand when you felt nervous.

"I fucked up. I tried so hard to keep you out of the camera that I pushed you away. I know words can't fix actions, but please come back to me so I can make things up to you. Please." He said while looking directly into the camera.

This was broadcasted all over hell, even on the radio in hopes you would hear it and hear it you did. You had went to Charlie for advice and help, sobbing on her couch when the broadcast came on. You were touched, hell genuinely thinking about fully forgiving him, but a small part of you was still angry. It took you to leave for him to wake up to address the rumors of his and Val's relationship that spread months ago and finally speak the truth about your role in his life. You ultimately decided to go back, apologizing for leaving. "Darling, don't apologize. If anyone should apologize, it should be me. I made you feel like nothing, but you're everything to me." He stated, hugging you tightly when you walked into his office.

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Cameras clicked as the limo rolled up, shouts of questions and excitement started up as the door opened and Vox got out, giving the cameras his signature smile before turning back and holding out his hand towards you. You grab his hand nervously, stepping out and giving a shy smile to the crowd. Finally, you both felt like you were his only thought.

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Carpal tunnel core <3 /j Hope yall enjoy (^^)

[moonstruckme]

Omg omg omg I love you writing so so so much!

I was wondering if you could do poly!marauders (or can be just Sirius x reader) where Sirius goes to a tattoo shop and gets a new tattoo and the reader just gets a piercing.

Just rlly cute fluff with Siri holding her hand and babying her for the rest of the day, even tho his procedure (that’s a scary word) is more painful than hers

Thank you love

XoXo

Thank you sweetheart!!

cw: mention of needle

Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 607 words

Sirius’ fingers are curled around the inside of your thigh while he drives with the other hand. He hasn’t let go of you for probably a couple of hours now, since you’d first gone into the tattoo shop. At first he’d let you pretend it was for him, holding your hand while the artist inked up the side of his ribs, but it became clear pretty soon after that his touch was your security blanket. You haven’t relinquished it since. 

“Feeling good, sunshine?” he asks, pulling up in front of your place. 

He’s being a little extra gentle with you, which doesn’t seem strictly fair. He’d sat through his whole session with little coddling, didn’t even complain about your bruising hold on his hand when it was your turn. Your eyes had watered something fierce as the needle went through your septum, and Sirius’ eyebrows had pulled together distressfully. He’d brought your hand to his lips, murmuring a You got it onto your knuckles. Meanwhile, his side had to be throbbing the entire time. 

“Mhm,” you reply, brightly as you can. 

“Yeah?” He turns toward you, smiling prettily. “You look good. It suits you, gorgeous.” 

He reaches for your face, and you flinch instinctively away, backing yourself up against the passenger door. Sirius’ eyebrows rise. 

“Sorry,” you laugh at yourself. “Sorry, I just got scared you were gonna touch it.” 

He cocks his head to the side, giving you a deadpan look. “I wasn’t,” he says. “Fuck, babe, give me a little credit. I’ve had piercings before. I just want a kiss.” 

He leans forward again, and again, you dodge. 

“Actually,” you squeak, “I’d feel a lot better if nothing got near my nose. For like, the next several days.” 

He blinks. “You serious?”

“No, that’s you,” you remind him. 

“Funny.” He narrows his eyes at you. “You’re really not going to let me kiss you for the next several days?” 

You shrink a bit under his gaze, the unflinching intensity of it overwhelming. He’s doing it on purpose, you know. But you won’t fold. You know how to get him back. 

You let the pressure that’s stayed stuck in the back of your throat grow, your eyes watering. “I don’t want it to hurt worse,” you say pitifully. 

Predictably, Sirius melts like ice cream on a summer day. “Aw, it still hurts, baby?” He reaches for your face, then, checking himself, detours to your shoulder. His thumb rubs at your clavicle. “Maybe we need to do a saline wash already, it could take out some of the sting.” 

You worry at your lip. You can see Sirius itching to pull it from between your teeth, but he restrains himself, settling for giving you a stern look until you stop. 

“I don’t know if I’m ready for that,” you admit. 

“I can do it for you,” he offers easily. “Oi, don’t look at me like that. I’m not a fucking newbie. I know what I’m doing.” 

“After,” you say tentatively, “can we put on a movie and lay for a while?” 

He grins, slipping his fingers from between your thighs to take your hand in his. He smooches your palm. “I’ve got nothing else going on today, sunshine. And I got us that ice cream for a reason.” 

You perk up, joy sparking to life in your chest. “We have ice cream?” 

“Oh, so that can come close to your face but I can’t?” 

“I’ll be very careful with my spoon,” you tell him gravely. 

“Whatever.” He rolls his eyes, pulling your arm closer to smudge a kiss onto the inside of your wrist. “I can improvise.”