#they just always need to be way more fleshed out than they are

[evilgwrl]

Simon across the country getting irritated when you let it slip that you’re not taking care of yourself….leads to a million FaceTime calls, texts, reminders and one hell of a homecoming.

“My sweet girl, you’ve been using that brain too much huh? Let me fix that,” hehehehehe

I NEED this thanks

It wasn’t all your fault. You were a busy girl, always working overtime and handling difficult tasks and situations. Having Simon around just made things easier for you. When he wasn’t busy kicking ass in the Military, he was with you, looking after you and (all) your needs. You had grown used to it.

That didn’t really serve as a good explanation to him when you let it slip however.

“What do you mean you haven’t eaten properly in two days?”

“Pot noodles are enough, I just haven’t had the time or energy-“

“You think that’s enough? Jesus, love, what’s been keeping you so busy?”

“Work- I haven’t had the time to do anything, I’m so used to you being here that when you go, it’s hard to adapt.”

You could tell by the way his eyes crinkled that he was unhappy, a stare of disappointment thrown at you before you hung up, chasing after an errand for your incapable boss.

The next several days were a series of FaceTime calls and texts, practically yelling at you to look after yourself, or for the most part, eat a proper meal.

The poor man was worried sick, barely having enough reception to order you food, and when he did, you were impossible to get ahold of.

You would check your phone every couple of hours, another message flashing with the repeated words of, ‘Take a break.’ He was never much for emotion over the phone but you knew he was worried. He cared more about you and your wellbeing than anything.

It didn’t help your case either when Simon got off deployment early to surprise you, and he found you huddled over your laptop, frantically typing with a strained look on your face.

“What did I say about taking care of yourself, hm?”

You practically jumped out of your skin, eyes flashing wide before you jumped up, practically sobbing into his arms in a heap.

“You’re home early, I missed you,” you frowned, trying to hide how poorly you had been without him. He knew.

His lips pressed into your forehead, skin broiling with heat as it reacted to the simplicity of his touch.

“My sweet girl, you’ve been using that brain too much, huh? Let me fix that.”

You were practically a mess in his arms, body merging into the sheets as you whined, puffy clit sucked into his mouth with an exasperated suck, your legs curled around his beefy shoulders.

“Si- so good, don’t stop please-“

His tongue was rapid, diving into your whining hole with pleasure as his hands found your chest, groping the flesh as your hardened nipples rubbed against his palm.

Your sheets were soaked, both by sweat and your slick as you writhed against him, bucking your hips feverishly before coming with a loud moan, vocal chords singing out at the immense pleasure that was wracking through you.

It was good to have Simon home.

[jasminumdew]

Sylus (werewolf)

Notes: I loveee primal play, it was so fun writing this. I actually finished this about 10 days ago, but a big typhoon went through my place and cut out all power, water, and Internet for a few days, I decided to wait until there was Wi-Fi connection, didn’t think it would be this long. But everything’s fine now, hope you guys enjoy this ^^

Warnings: MDNI, he says “kitten” 3-4 times, pure smut, primal play, chasing through the wood, squirting x2, oral (fem received), piv, knotting, overstimulated

Wc: 1,7k

Event host: @nanamiscocksleeve

Summary: Being in a relationship with a werewolf comes with indulging in his instinct to hunt, and you’re more than happy to being his prey. With this being your first time in this scene, you and Sylus have planned out everything beforehand, he insisted on making sure you’re comfortable and won’t get hurt. It’s simple. You run and he chases after, then when he catches you, you need to act as if you don’t know him, and just unfortunately bump into a werewolf and fight back when that monster tries to mate with you. Sounds hot and easy enough. Ready? Run!

You’re out of breath. Barely a few minutes in this cat and mouse game and you’re already exhausted. You curse under your breath how you should’ve exercised more often for this. But how common it is to be chased in the wood by a werewolf? Your legs were screaming for a break for 10 minutes now. Or was it more? You don’t have any concept of time now, being alone in the dark cold wood, surrounded by darkness and relying solely on the faint light from the moon.

You can hear hardly hear anything besides the sounds of your heavy breath, your legs thumping on the dry grass, and the occasional howl of the beast chasing after you. You don’t know if he is still watching you in the shadow or that you’ve successfully cut your track. But the chances are thin, werewolf are famous for their extraordinary hearing and smelling ability. There’s no way you’ll be able to escape this wood without his canine mark deep into your flesh. Running away from him seems like a really bad idea now that you’re realizing it. Making yourself a small and easy prey to the mighty predator, who gets off on the high adrenaline of this little chasing game. It’s not like you can go back and make a different choice. So you run fast, completely oblivious to where you’re heading to, playing the dangerous game with no way out.

No matter how carefully you planned things out, it still didn’t prepare you for how intense it actually is, deep in the wood with no flashlight in hand, eyes hardly adjusted when everywhere looks just the same. Sylus knows this place in the back of his hand, you know he won’t let anything bad happen and you can trust him with your life, but your heart still beating like a drum, loud and clear in your ears.

Your whole body was burning, demanding for a rest. You hide yourself low, under the thick bush near an old white oak tree. You press your hands on the chest, forcing yourself to keep your breathing and heartbeat to quiet down. You heard an echo caw of a crow nearby, other than those, it’s all too quiet. Strangely so. You peak your head to watch out for any sign that he’s approach closer. Then you hear it, the sounds of a huge beast searching for its sweet prey, too big to hide his presence. You know for a fact that you can only hear him if he chooses to let you, you’re completely in his control. He doesn’t rush, just slowly goes through the surrounding, playing a little mind game with his prey, making her always on guard and overstimulated by fear.

The sudden grunting from behind your neck sends chill down your spine. Your body’s complete frozen, as if you think if you don’t move and keep your breathing even, you’ll disappear from his vision. But you understand it’s the only chance you get before being his meal tonight. Your legs quickly move but to no avail, you couldn’t even run away a few steps before being pushed to the ground on your back, making you yelp from pain. Under the moonlight, a massive wolf lays itself on top of you, heavy weight knocks the remaining air out of your lungs.

His red eyes staring deep into yours, it reminds you of the fresh color of blood, and you, being the center of those, will soon be swallowed whole by it. What looks like a huge wolf shifts into a more human-like one, returning to a hairless body, still bigger than any man you’ve encountered, with his hair the same shade as the pale moon that’s now shining down on his silhouette. Your cheeks and ears turn bright red, observing his naked body, prominent abs and full muscles. Focus focus focus. You chant in your head like casting some kind of spell. You try your best to fight back, pushing his jaw away from your face, biting his hand, kicking him, only to get laugh at. “Come on, struggle a little more for me, kitten”. His deep voice sends a wave of arousal deep to your core, scratches an itch deep down inside you that you tried to hide. “Shut up” you snap, your legs pull to your chest, kicking his belly with your whole strength. His hands grab your ankles with ease, letting your thighs rest on his broad shoulders. Then before you have the time to react, he pushes up your top to your wrists, tying your poor shirt like a bow to keep you from squirming. “There, all nice and pretty. Wrapped like a present for me huh?”, he smirks, kissing your inner thighs through your leggings.

“Let me go you disgusting pervert!”

He doesn’t faze by your words, but instead, his hands find their way to your waistband, pulling it down to your ankles. He hums in amusement with a clear view of your core soaking wet, your pretty clit clenching as if begging for some friction. “Are you sure I’m the pervert here, sweetheart?” he teases, before kissing his way down from your belly, to your inner thighs, then he dives right in, devouring you without mercy. He’s such a messy eater, slurping and sucking on your bundle of nerves so eagerly like he’s gone for days without anything in his stomach. You cry out the sweetest moans, can’t move away from his tongue abusing your sensitive bud, his hands have your thighs in a dead grip, refusing to let go even when you’re twitching and sniffling. You cum hard in his mouth, squirting like a small fountain and he slurps it all in with a satisfying hum.

You let out a shaky breath when his mouth finally left your pussy, drenching in the mixture of your shared fluids. But the relief doesn’t stay for long when you notice his rock-hard cock in his hand, the tip has an angry red shade and his knot swells uncomfortably, waiting to be buried deep inside your wall. He pushes through your first ring with a throaty grunt. You’re always tighter after your first orgasm. Sucking on your neck right on top of his mating bite mark, his cock touches all sweet spots of yours, making you squeeze down on him unconsciously. His red eyes never leave yours, capturing your every expression, every gasp and moan, how your soul seems to be sucked out of your body every time his tip brushes through her cervix.

Your wetness makes it all too easy for his knot to slip in than usual, but he still feeds his knot to you slowly to let you adjust to his size. Your cunt’s so overstimulated with his knot keeps pushing in and out, brushing through your small beans. “Please...” you cry out, wishing your hands were untied so you can reach down and rub it until you reach your peak.

“Hmm? What’s that?” he asks, not even bothering to mask the smugness in his voice.

“Touch me” you plead, gasping for air when he grinds on it more. He turns his head, looking clueless, “But I am touching you, darling? Be more specific and I might give it to you”

Ughh you want to slap his face so badly. He knows what you want and chooses to be mean about it when you crave him so much. His touch feels so good, the only thing you need now is to cum on his thick, veiny cock and squeezing his knot until he burst inside you.

“I need you to rub my clit, I want to cum so bad, please please please I beg you” you whine, clenching down on him oh so sweetly to make him pleased. “Good girl” he chuckles, massaging your sweet spot with his thumb, you whine in pleasure, arching your back. Taking all of his knot, he bites down on your neck, grinding into your G-spot so hard you can see stars. His grinding turns sloppy, he kisses you when you cum together, and that to you was the most heavenly feeling ever.

When you can catch your breath, his thumb moves again, drawing tight circles around your poor clit. “No, please, I can’t anymore” you cry out. He coos, “Yes you can, give me one more, kitten”. His tongue swirls around your nipple before sucking it in, playing with the other with his free hand. A tight knot unravels too fast, you didn’t get to warn him before squirting again, making a mess on his abdomen and thighs. You can feel him twitching inside, the warm fluid paints your wall white again.

He rolls over, careful not to hurt you with his knot, and lets you lie on top of him. He frees your hands from your now creasy shirt and strokes your cheek. “How was it?”. You rest your head on his shoulder, answer sleepily. “I really enjoyed it. Though my legs probably won’t be able to move tomorrow after all those running…and banging” you giggle, breathing in your mate’s scent. Then, suddenly remember something, your head jerks up. “Did you use Mephisto to cheat, Sy? I heard a crow with a very annoying voice, guess you’re not that good at hunting”.

He pinches your cheek, “Are you underestimating my ability? I don’t need assistance when your sweet scent leads me straight to your hiding place”. You yelp, holding your sore cheek and glaring at him. “That’s not fair. I’ll rub all kinds of smells on me next time so you’ll be distracted and I can win for once”. His answer makes your body tingle. “That won’t work because I can recognize my mate’s scent no matter what. Besides, you love it when I win, don’t you kitten?”

You huff in annoyance, hiding your grin in his chest. It won’t be long until his cock starts twitching again, better rest while you can, you have a long long night ahead.

[alastor-x-reader-stories]

"Bite Me" - Alastor x Reader

You were a strange addition to the hotel.

A quiet sinner demon with no merit to speak of who just waltzed in without much fuss or fanfare. No blowing up walls, no trying to kill anyone, no entertainment what so ever.

You were so boring, Alastor didn't even want to mess with you.

...

At first.

Then, quiet and unassuming, you slowly established yourself as both over-forgiving and sharply blunt.

It was amusing watching the whiplash on a demon's face when you flip between them so much in a single day.

Once, Angel Dust was high as a kite and practically lobbed a brick at your head. Your response was "No harm done, don't worry about it." later that same day, the spider-fellow draped an arm around Vaggie's shoulder and slung some sort of ridiculous insult. You moved his arm off of her and said "You need to learn to watch what you say or I'm ripping this arm off and shoving it down your throat."

Usually that last threat would lead to some other comment, but the flat way you said it and moved on to a different subject left the spider fellow standing there without much else to say.

How amusing!

Even he was no exemption from your two-faced nature, it seemed. One moment apologizing for accidentally blocking his path, the next informing him that you'd use his antlers as forks if he didn't leave you alone. Silly little threats that were oh-so pathetic when said by such a...underwhelming, individual.

Alastor's favorite of yours was 'I'm going to eat your kidneys'. Then how rude you were to decline the cooking lesson he offered!

Typically your quips and comments were about trivial things, little things that Alastor would purposely do in order to get a reaction.

THIS TIME, THOUGH

He had a particularly annoying run in with Vox one day, trudging back to the hotel with his patience already at its limit. Husk knew better than to comment on it, shying away from him as he prowled through the lobby. Angel Dust was at the bar counter, eyeing Alastor as he strode on through.

"Ya look like shit." He commented passively.

"Thank you ever so much for the keen observation." Alastor said with a smile. Husker flinched, ears dropping. It was only then he noticed you there as well, a forgotten drink in your hand as you gaze lingered on Husk, a frown setting to your lips.

The rest of that particular exchange wasn't of any significance. It wasn't until later when you sought him out in the Hotel's parlor things escalated.

"You need to calm down."

His grin hitched up and he leered down at you. You were more than a foot shorter than him and your big eyes did little to make you look more intimidating.

"I beg your pardon, dear?"

"I said you need to calm down." Your tail swished in agitation. "I get you had a bad day but that's no reason to take it out on other people."

Alastor chuckled "Oh goodness. My apologies, my dear. But you have absolutely no ground to tell me to do anything."

He back you up against the wall, hands planted on either side of you. His antler stretched out and his eyes took on the appearance of dials as he leaned down. Sharp teeth grazed your face, hot breath stung your eyes. Claws carved their way into the wall on either side of you.

"So, my dear, what was it you said? I'm afraid I didn't quite catch it."

"I said you need to calm down."

Alastor's eye twitched, his grin twisting into something so much more unhinged. No hesitation. Were you stupid?

A look at you said yes, but you knew damn well the danger you were in. You were trembling, pupils shaking breath shallow. But you still had the nerve to speak to him that way?

"All right, what if I don't?" He purred, tracing a claw over the side of your face "Go on ahead and let me hear whatever pathetic threat you have."

"I'll bite you." spoken in that flat tone of yours.

Alastor laughed "As amusing as always-"

Pain burst from his shoulder, sharp and sticky as fangs burst through flesh. Perhaps it was shock that had him stumble back, perhaps it was amusement that allowed you to get away from him. You opened your jaw, withdrawing your teeth from his shoulder as skin and cloth clung to the spaces between your bloodied fangs.

You gave him a pointed glare as your wiped some excess blood off of your face and prowled off without so much as giving him a second glance.

He had every right to hunt you down and rip apart your soul right then and there.

Instead he found himself losing his balance, falling onto his rear on the floor. Fingers curled over the fresh and large bite mark on his shoulder. The damn thing nearly covered the entirety of between his collar bone and his arm socket.

He pulled his hand away to stare absently at his own blood.

You must be venomous. That was the only way to explain why his heart was suddenly racing and his face suddenly felt far too warm. His breathing was off, shallow and uneven.

You actually bit him.

Were your threats actually not so empty?

Did you really intend to use his antlers as forks?

He laughed to himself, letting his hand drop back to his side. This was ridiculous! If you meant even half the strange threats you threw at him....then...

Well. He was in danger.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Bad Guy 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, power dynamics, cheating, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: The men your mother brings home rarely stick around, but her latest catch can't seem to unhook himself from your life.

Characters: Destroyer!Chris

Note: I'm going to a physio today for the first time.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The house is quiet as you come out of your room. The single floor is just enough room for you and your mom. You’ve never needed much else and all your life, you’ve made do with what you have. It’s just the way it is.

You stretch your arms and arch your spine as you stop in the doorway of the kitchen. You yawn. You fell asleep reading outdated discussions about your most recent syndicated obsession. You should know better by now, that thorn in your neck is only driving deeper. 

You bend at the elbows to rub your neck and drag your feet over the cold tile. Your nipple poke rigidly against your cropped tank top and goosebumps raze up your bare thighs. You open the fridge and pull out the bottle of orange juice, your panties riding up with your movement.  

Before you can stand straight, a sharp strikes snaps against your ass and radiates through your flesh. You yipe and grip the bottle by the neck as you jump and turn to face the culprit. The strange man stares back, his brows twitching. 

“Mm, you’re not Gail,” he mutters. 

“No, I’m not,” you press the juice to your chest, overly aware of your barely covered body.  

You don’t ask who he is. You stopped doing that in middle school. She’s another one of her ‘callers’. You don’t usually see them more than once, if at all. Most leave before you’re awake. 

“Was takin’ a piss, heard you skittering around, thought...” he trails off into a shrug. 

He’s shirtless too. He only wears a pair of briefs as he stands shameless before you. A dark tattoo covers half his chest and extends around his shoulder and down his arm. It’s the typical snake and skull aesthetic sported by men like him. 

“Nope,” you reach for the fridge door and step to the side as you close it.  

He doesn’t move. You go to dip around him and he moves with you. 

“Taking all that with you?” He points at the bottle. You look down and sigh. You push it towards him. “Here.” 

He puts his hand under it and you let go. You skirt around his other side and squeeze through the door behind him. You don’t look back as you flee to your room. You resist the urge to reach back and cover the bottom of your ass, not wanting to draw attention to it if he is watching. 

You shut your bedroom door and cringe. Great. You can’t really complain. Your mother hasn’t kicked you out. Yet. Not like half your friends’ parents. She just asks for half the rent and you can manage that. With the rent around here, you’d be on the street otherwise. 

You cross the room and flop on the bed. You pull out your phone and go back to scrolling the old discussion boards. It’s funny. The more recent posts are totally contrary to the ones when the show aired. You’re not sure who you agree with. 

You roll onto your back and drop your phone to the mattress. You have to work at noon. So much for a relaxing morning. You’ll just be hiding in your room until that man leaves. 

A knock jerks you up and you roll your eyes. You search the floor and pull on the wrinkly pajama bottoms. You go to the door and crack it open an inch. It’s him. 

“Uh, hi?” You utter dully. 

“Got you a glass,” he offers one of the cups in his hands. You squint at it then look him in the face. 

“Thanks?” You go to take it but he doesn’t let go as you wrap your fingers around the cold glass.  

“There a problem?” He asks. 

“Uh, no,” you scrunch your nose. “I said thanks.” 

“I don’t like your tone.” 

You let go of the glass and retract your hand. His eyes flick down and yours do too. The white tank does little for your modesty. You cross your arms. 

“Okay? Well, never mind,” you go to close the door and he steps forward, digging his elbow into the wood as he blocks you with his body. 

“Your mom said you’re a nice girl,” he looks you up and down again. “Coulda fooled me walking around like that.” 

You frown. It’s your house. Why should you worry about what you’re wearing? Besides, if you knew he was there, then you wouldn’t wander around in your panties. 

“Thanks for the orange juice but you should just give it to my mom. That’s why you’re here,” you shrug. 

He scoffs. “Got a smart mouth.” 

“No, I—I didn’t do anything.” 

“There you go again. Disrespectful.” 

“Huh?” You shake your head in confusion. 

“That way you talk. Low and flat, like you don’t give a fuck. Maybe you don’t. Would explain why you’re grown living in your mommy’s house,” he mockingly pouts. 

You blink, “you don’t know me.” 

“I know girls like you. Pretending like they don’t care. You care. We both know you do.” He moves a glass closer, “say thank you. Like you mean it.” 

“I don’t want it,” you insist. 

“Don’t want to waste it. Was it you or mommy who paid for the bottle?” He taunts. 

You grit your teeth. What is his problem? Why won’t he just leave you alone? 

You deflate. You really just want him to go. You look at the ceiling then back to him. He’s the kind of man you would avoid on the street. His blue eyes are as cold as ice and his hair is shaved, but a little longer on top, and he sports a goatee amid the short stubble on his jaw and cheeks. 

“Thank you,” you reach for the glass again. 

“Thank you, sir,” his voice grizzles as he corrects you. 

You steel yourself and your lips slant. You really just want him to tell him to fuck off but like you always do, you don’t say what you think. You keep it inside. Put on that face that keeps you safe. 

“Thank you, sir,” you repeat after him. 

“Now smile,” he demands. 

You flinch and look away. You take a breath. That’s you’re least favourite, when they tell you to smile. It happens often at your job and it always sours your day. 

You force a smile. 

“Come on, you can do better,” he snickers. 

Your cheeks tremble and your smile falls. You tuck your chin down. 

“Can you please just leave me alone?” You mumble. 

“Excuse me, girl? I can’t hear you.” 

“I said...” your throat locks up and your eyes singe. God! When you get angry, you don’t get bold, you just get teary. You hate it. “I said ‘thank you, sir’.” 

You grab the glass so abruptly that it sloshes over the side. You don’t stop, you just spin and throw your weight against the door. He lets it close and it slams. You spill most of the juice down your front. 

You hear the friction of his fingers dragging down the wood. It sends a chill through you. You slowly pull away and put the glass down, juice dripping down your arms and chest. 

He’ll be gone soon, just like the rest. 

💀

Your mom’s still asleep when you leave for work. As you sneak out of your room, you listen for any sign of life.  If the man’s there, he doesn’t make himself known. You step into your shoes and leave through the front door without looking back. 

You head down the street with your earbuds in, a podcast about an old show you watched in high school droning on, as you take the shortcut behind the house at the end of the street. It’s almost four blocks to work but you save money on bus fare. You try to only waste the change after dark. 

The ice cream shop is never very busy outside of the post-soccer game crowds. You take your vigil behind the cold counter and bob along with the radio station’s Top 10 countdown. Miley leans in the corner by the till as she chews gum and scrolls through her phone. 

You’re fidgety to do the same, but you hate just letting your eyes glaze over. You pace a bit back and forth until her shift is up. When she’s gone, you feel a little less on edge. You always prefer being alone, you don’t have to worry about performing. 

Customers come and go. You greet them with the usual ‘how can I help?’ You’ve never been very good at the customer service part but you’re not rude. You just do your job, which it to scoop ice cream and toss some sprinkles around. 

You’re entitled to one cone a shift. You rarely have it. You don’t need the extra sugar or the brain freeze. That day, as you close up, the chocolate peanut butter entices you to go outside your routine. You put the lids on all the canisters except for that flavour and do yourself up a waffle cone before you lock up. 

You lick the softening cream and turn to face the dark plaza, lit only by the overhead marquee. There’s a car idling just by the curb. You ignore it. A few neighbouring businesses close up around the same time. 

The engine revs, and it jolts forward. The horn nearly has you throwing your cone. You fall back into step and keep walking. The Trans Am continues to follow you and honks again. The window rolls down as someone whistles. Only your name stops you. 

You turn and bend to see through the window. What the heck? It’s him. The man that invaded your house and threatened you over orange juice. 

You exhale through your nose and stand up. You turn down the pavement and keep going. The bus will be there any moment. 

“Hey,” he barks, “get back here.” 

You keep going. Why is he there? Because of the orange juice? 

The car door opens and closes. You speed up as you hear him following you. 

“Your mom sent me to pick you up,” he says. 

You snort, “sure she did.” 

“Really,” he says as his footsteps echo yours. 

“She doesn’t even know when I work,” you keep going and he catches your arm, yanking you back. 

You spin to face him and yelp. Your scoop shifts precariously in the cone. You try to pull away but not too hard as you selfishly want to keep your treat intact. 

“Alright. I offered. I heard you leave. Figured you could use a lift.” He squeezes and you whimper. “I can be a nice guy.” 

Can be. 

You wince and flutter your lashes, “can you let me go... please?” 

He opens his fingers sharply and lifts his hand, showing his palm. “Since you said please...” 

You look over your shoulder then back at him. Finally, you glance at your cone. You weigh your options. You’re not a quick runner. 

“I appreciate the ride but--” 

“I appreciate the ride, sir. Like I said, I can be nice, but respect is earned, girl.” 

You swallow tightly, cheeks pinching. 

“Sir, I appreciate the ride but I have money for the bus--” 

He clucks and points over your shoulder, “that bus?” 

You turn and watch the headlights blow by the stop. You flick your eyes to the sky and face him again. “Mmhmm.”” 

“So, is that a ‘thank you, sir’ on your lips?” He challenges. 

You slant your lips back and forth. You fight back a wave of hot frustration. You’re used to feeling powerless but he is suffocating. You nod. 

“Thank you, sir,” you choke out. 

“See, not that hard to be a good girl.” 

He waits until you move. You head back towards his car, and he gets in the driver side. As you claim the passenger seat, he huffs. He looks at you as you try not to acknowledge him. 

“Don’t like food in the car. Try not to get it all over,” he snarls. 

“I can--” 

“Just be careful,” he snips. 

Just be quiet, you tell yourself. You pull the seatbelt down and stare through the windshield. You lick around the cone as the cream threatens to melt onto your fingers. The car idles and you glance over. He watches your tongue as you lap up the trickle.  

You sit back as his eyes cling to your lips. He lifts his chin and turns straight. He grips the wheel and cranks the volume on the stereo. He speeds off and you struggle to keep from doing just what he warned you not to. You’d tell him to slow down but not only will he not listen, but the sooner you’re home, the better. 

[sir-adamus]

Why do people think rw/by isn’t profitable so they need a reboot? If it truly wasn’t profitable the way it was then why would viz pick it up wouldn’t they just leave the ip to rot?

sunk cost - these are people who have wasted up to eleven years of their lives hating on this show in spite of its continued survival and popularity (which is another thing they're in denial about, that the show is popular and has a dedicated global fanbase. these people need to believe that the only people who watch RWBY are people who share their opinions and only do so to make fun of it); so they're clinging to farcical ideas like "RWBY only has one more season and then Viz are gonna reboot it so it'll be good", "Viz is gonna scrap the main show and just continue Ice Queendom because that's more their brand" or flat out "they're gonna cancel Volume 10 and reboot the whole show so it'll be good" because they need to live in that delusion that the show doesn't have a large following invested in seeing it through to the end, and ignoring the enormous fallacy that is purchasing the rights to a show that's nine volumes in to its story only to scrap the whole thing before it's finished (not to mention Kerry's still involved which - even precluding that means a reboot won't happen - means the things they hate about the show wouldn't go away)

and not only that, under Viz, RWBY is likely to be even more popular and profitable once it picks up again, because Viz is bigger than RT so there's gonna be less issues in accessibility (getting the show out to bigger audiences), greater merchandising opportunities (merch was something that RT always struggled with) and more funding for the show itself (so more money to go into refining the animation, more animators on the project, fleshing the story out because they've got more runtime to work with), stuff to appeal to the already existing audience as well as draw in new crowds with easier access to the content

[temmtamm]

I need you to write SOMETHING about yan Ford locking up (gn) reader slskxlflwld please I need him,,,,,,,, ogh

It wasn’t an easy feat to do this, y’know??

Really, he’d expect more appreciation on your part. Don’t you see all that he is putting on the line just for you? But, no. He supposes it is to hasty for a wild animal to suddenly get used to being loved and having a home.

And trust, that IS what you are. A wild, stray dog. One he intends on domesticating.

After all, it would do you no good to live on your own in a town like Gravity Falls. Too many creatures who would tear you limb from limb if given the chance.

Really, it’s much more preferable that he found you than the others.

…

Now, suuure, he may have found you through unconventional ways—But, hey!! Every Romcom starts with miscommunication!!

…His just happened to be him tracking you down after seeing you at the Mystery Shack, finding your home, your family, your first pets name.

It was all in the name of research, however!! Research is what he does best!! He can pick apart and dissect any topic of interest with enough time.

You just so happened to be his latest topic of interest.

—

“You have to eat, y’know?” Ford knelt down next to your curled in form laying weak on the ground, malnourished, sick, with sweat clinging to your skin and hair that hasn’t been washed in days. No matter, he’s seen worse. He’s lived through worse. They don’t exactly have showers in every single dimension, so a couple months is nothing compared to his nearly 30 years without a shower.

You didn’t respond. That has been your new gimmick lately, he noticed. You’re newest stage of grief.

You’ve already went through anger, bargaining, denial—Now, he just had to deal with your depression before he could get to the sweet ivory bliss that was acceptance.

He’d be waiting with bated breath for when you accepted him and how good this truly was for you, when you’d lean into his touch rather than jerk away.

Maybe then you can finally see more of the house than the basement—So long as you don’t snitch to the others why you’re here.

First things first, however, he needed to make sure you were healthy.

“I said eat.” He huffed, thick bushy brows knitting together as his tone grew more stern. That’s how he usually got his way, he noticed. He had to intimidate you. That’s what he had to do to stop you from stabbing him with his pens, to stop you from using any broken shards of glass to cut yourself, and to stop your from telling him how much you hated him.

Strangely enough, however, it didn’t work this time. If he had to guess, this was your new way of getting back at him, of not giving him the satisfaction of taking care of you. You’d sooner die from starvation than eat anything he cooked.

Too bad he wasn’t letting you. “They always want it the hard way..” Ford sighed, shaking his head before one of his hands jutted out, grabbing at your jaw, already so sore and bruised from the other times when he was…less than kind when handling you. It’d stop if you stopped biting, y’know.

“Glk—“ A choked gag left your lips, your nose wrinkling as your eyes grew misty from the pain. You tried to stay strong, to fight against him, though, inevitably, your mouth parted to let out a cry of pain. “Stop—“

You barely had time before a metal spoon was forced down your gullet, burning hot chili following it. You weren’t allowed solids yet.

Your eyes watered further, feeling it burn at your tender flesh and gums, making you swish it around, desperate to alleviate some of the pain before giving up, swallowing to make the pain, and food go away.

You hated that defeat tasted so good, especially with how you had been neglecting yourself lately.

“There we go,” You hated how Ford cooed even more. “That’s much better, isn’t it?”

A pathetic groan left your lips, with your head ducking back in to hide in your curled up form as he reached out, a rough, calloused six-fingers palm petting and playing with your hair as you laid like a old, tired dog.

…The feeling was soft and sweet, contrasting how tired and sore your bones were.

“There we go…Good dog.”

[futturmanspookie]

˗ˏˋBreak୨୧

Summary: Josh is feeling a bit needy during work, so you take a break and go see him at the janitor's closet. Pairing: Josh Futturman X GN!Reader Tags: Smut, sex on inappropriate places, penetration, complimenting, unprotected sex, Josh whines a lot. Word Account: 1k

A/n: Hey guys! i know i've been a long time without posting and i'm so sorry for that, i also know its a pretty short fic, mainly for me, and im sorry for this too! I've been through some shit and i really hope you enjoy this! Love yall 🫶🫶

-Nic

Your moans echo through the room. The insistent banging of the old product cabinet against the wall of the janitor's closet is getting more intense and a little louder.

How did you ended like this? Easy. It was Josh's fault. Like always.

The two of you have not had enough alone time this week. The last time you both even tried to make out, Gabe -Josh's father-, barged in saying it was taco Thursday.

Anyways, Josh needed your touch. So he did the most rational thing he could; Interrupt your job just so he could get a bit of attention.

"Hm... Babe." He said, stopping by your door and looking inside. He looked like a lost puppy in need of care. "Oh, sorry- No babe during work-" He mumbled.

"It's okay." You answered shrugging. He was acting a bit strange, that's for sure. It was clear he wanted something. "What do you need?" You ask softly, scanning his expression.

"Hm... I wanted you to... Go to the janitor's closet with me... There's something i really need to show you." He replied, and it sounded like a big excuse just to have you alone with him.

It's not like you're innocent anyway, so you agree to go with him. Even tho you already knew what was going to happen.

"So? What did you want to show me?" You ask, looking around at the peeling walls and old shelves that threaten to fall any moment.

Josh shrugs and smiles. Then he moves closer and seals your lips in a kiss. You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer, his hands instinctively gripping your hips and pushing your back against the nearest cabinet. He ran his tongue over your lower lip, parting them slowly and exploring your mouth with his tongue.

"We can get fired-" You whisper against his lips, your breath getting even heavier as your heart rate picked up.

"I don't care-" He replied, moving the kisses down your neck. He lets go of your hips, clumsily unbuckling his belt.

You sit up on the cabinet, not sure if it can support your weight. Josh carefully spreads your legs apart, kneads the soft flesh of your thighs over your jeans, then moves closer and kisses your lips softly.

"You're so pretty... I still can't believe you date me." He mumbled, smiling a bit and moving his kisses down your jaw and neck. You blushed and sighed, unbuttoning Josh's shirt slowly.

"I could say the same about you-" You whispered, kissing his lips softly and running your hand over his bare chest.

Josh was usually shy and insecure, but when he got horny, he started acting different. He gained a little more confidence and was able to say things without having to think of 12 better ways to say it. It excited you, more than you would ever admit.

Josh started kissing your neck, undoing your pants. "I've been thinking about you all day..." He whispered, it sounded a little desperate and whiny.

You bit down at your lower lip as Josh started pushing your pants down to your ankles. As soon as they were on the floor, he got between your legs and tugged his own pants and underwear down.

You looked down at his now exposed cock, the pink tip was leaking with precum and it was throbbing.

You blushed more and he slowly moved closer, pressing his tip against your entrance. "Can i?" He whispered in your ear.

You nodded quickly, anticipating him inside of you. He slowly pushed him, his hand tightening on your thigh. Josh sighed, his breath hot against your ear.

He started with slow thrusts, but they quickly got faster and deeper. Your hands held on Josh's back, your fingernails digging on it.

Josh's free hand found support on the wall, his whines getting needier with each thrust. "I love you-" He whimpered against your ear.

You instead of answering just buried your face in Josh's neck, trying to suppress your moans. The continuous pleasure and adrenaline left your mind hazy, you could swear this was your best fuck, ever.

Some items fall from the shelf above you, but it's not like either of you cared. Josh was so concentrated in how you felt around him, that he didn't cared to anything else, not even a bit. The world could explode and he would die happy.

He kissed your neck right above your ear, moaning lowly. "You're so pretty..." He whimpered, nuzzling against your skin.

His thrusts slowed down a bit, but he let out a long and loud whine as felt your walls clenching around his cock. You scratched on his back, moaning too.

"God- Babe... I'm close-" He whimpered, trying to keep it down. You nodded, humming lowly and clenching around him again.

His thrusts started to get unsteady and his whines started to get more breathless and hoarse. Your started to buck your hips forward, not being able to support the eagerness.

He thrusted deeply, biting your shoulder as spit his hot seed inside of you. Even after his orgasm, he kept fucking you.

Why? It was simple; He wanted you to cum. He wanted to feel you melting around him, trembling and crying out his name.

He moved his hand down and slowly started to stroke you, kissing your neck and shoulder.

"Cum for me... Please?" He asked, groaning softly as kept moving slowly.

Your breath was fast and shaky and you were moaning like a bitch. God, you loved Josh, you loved his face, his mouth, his dick, his hands... Everything on him. He was so hot and so good at pleasuring you, it's like you needed him.

Your moans got a bit louder scratching on his back again. He thrusted deeper, feeling you shudder and moan louder.

"Josh! Oh fuck!" You moaned, quickly feeling him covering your mouth with his hand as you finally released. It was the best orgasm of your life.

He pushed out slowly, kissing softly on your neck and smiling at you.

"Oh... What a mess we made..." He mumbled, smiling proudly as looked down at your legs.

"Shut up." You said, rolling your eyes.

"Sorry!" He replied, chuckling and pecking your lips.

You got up and started dressing, trying to make yourself presentable. You turned around and looked at your boyfriend, that had a big goofy smile and his pants down to his ankles.

"Don't forget zipping your pants." You said, pecking his lips and leaving.

[valentine-cafe]

Hi there! I normally walk just past this place, but something smelled particularly good. The croissant, maybe? Chocolate? (Dark content, smut)

Yeah so like this is a bit of a weird ask and I know that... but the aesthetics of your page just made me think of an enigma whose body was like that of taffy? Squishy, soft, sticky, and most importantly, stretchy. I was thinking reader would be a man, who was working for the Resistance but ended up in the clutches of some very nefarious people.

Maybe they can start out with just invasive physicals, but it slowly worsens and... yeah. Do as much as you feel comfortable with, please!

Yours truly, Hush~

. ˚◞♡ 𝒚𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒎𝒂𝒅 𝒅𝒐𝒄𝒕𝒐𝒓 𝒙 𝒃𝒕𝒕𝒎 𝒎𝒂𝒍𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 ꒰ 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒂𝒅 𝒅𝒐𝒄𝒕𝒐𝒓 𝒔𝒏𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓 ꒱◞ ₊˚

⊹ ۪ ࣪ ᥫ᭡ 209 jingyi / bttm male reader ꒱ you caught the mad doctor's eye. he hated the idea of feeling attracted to an experiment. and no matter how much he tried to sate it, he needed to get his hands on you

𖹭. content warnings◞  dark content . experimentation on reader . implied torture . dub con . mind control . explicit content . rough sex . penetrative sex . 0.7k

𖹭. receipts◞  glad that you decided to stop by dear customer<3 one croissant coming up! this honestly was so much fun to write and quickly became my favourite request because I have been itching to write some dark stuff with the herrera husbands<3

. ˚◞ ꒰ 🍰 𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒌𝒔 ꒱ m.list . guidelines . characters . lorebook ⊹ ۪ ࣪ 

𖹭. the mad doctor of valence has certainly seen many peculiar enigma around, but you by far were quite the special case. he is well aware of the classification of “body morphers” under the enigma hat, but you caught his eye in quite the special way.

𖹭. jìngyí had seen you around his brother a few times. he was uncertain why the depths of his soul burned with bitterness. he assumes it was the idea of an enigma type being out there that he had not quite explored. in reality it was you. the fact that a lowly enigma had sparked his interest in a way he never thought it would.

𖹭. he was disgusted, yet thrilled. like a snake eager to sink its fangs into new prey. one can imagine his excitement when his husband admitted to the same dark desires.

𖹭. lucky them. you’d found yourself caught in the last hunt and now found yourself along an examination table. jìngyí did well in exploring your limits. how far your body could go. viscosity? durability? compressibility, torsion, extensibility and temperature? oh he was salivating like a kid in the candy store.

𖹭. he especially loved the way that you would scream. how your voice would change depending on the shape and condition your elastic body was in. he found himself especially fascinated with how you’d cry when his hand would bury into your squishy side or around your sticky neck. even your tears tasted sweet.

𖹭. no matter all his experiments, he couldn’t rid himself of those dark desires that plagued his very being. so what better than to offer you a place in his circus? to perform, to live - while he induced you with a mind control mechanic?

𖹭. oh how you begged for him. how he adored the way your body would wrap around him and cling like a lovesick fool while he pounded your tight, gummy walls. one strong arm wrapped around whatever amalgamation your figure took while the other palmed at your squishy ass.

𖹭. you felt amazing. his mind would swim with pleasure every time his thick cock buried and throbbed into your warmth. he’d cream you so many times an over. it mattered how much or how long he fucked you over whatever surface he could find — he’d always end up cum drunk.

𖹭. jìngyí would be in a state when you started wrapping around him more intensely. extending your hands to provide him more pleasure as well. he’d bite down on whatever soft, messy flesh he could and buck his hips into yours like a feral animal.

“god you are so tight,”

a pant. a ragged groan. snake pupils constrict and his lips part. displaying fangs extended and blood on his tongue. soon to be more when he buried his cold face into your chest and bit again.

“h-hngh fuck -” your hand reaches to cling onto his hip. feel the way that he’s pounding your poor ass raw. filling it to the brim and fucking out his cum onto your thighs from the sheer intensity of his thrusts.

“d-don’t stop - dontstopdontstopdont -”

you choke out when strong fingers squeeze around your dick. a calloused thumb rubbing messy circles around your tip.

“you are disgusting.” the deep hiss finds your ear. followed by a hiccupping moan. his brows crease and he messily thumps his hips against yours as he tenses and squirts your walls white once more.

“d-disgusting little creature. but ah, d-damn. . . do you feel so good.”

he’d hoist you up. twisting your limps into whatever way he wishes as he presses you up against the examination table and goes for a third round. a fourth. a fifth. anything to ease this insatiable sweet tooth.

𖹭. taglist◞ wanna join the taglist? fill out this form

𖹭. remember◞ you make a writer's day every time you like, reblog and/or comment on their piece. if you enjoyed my work, please considering doing so<3

. ˚◞ ꒰ 🍰 𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒔𝒖𝒑𝒑𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒖𝒔 ꒱ tip jar . masterist ⊹ ۪ ࣪

[socially-awkward-skeleton]

tagged by @mkdecimation this week (thank you <3)

got some more vampire au goodies for this week just in time for the temperature dropping here and the leaves changing color, it's very much spooky season for me already.

warnings for blood and gore descriptions, but mostly its just Price waxing poetic about his conflicted feelings over his hot vampire gf

It's not the first time he’s seen her in this state. Covered in blood that isn't her own, drenched to the point her clothes are a slick oil spill of black, the fibers so steeped in it they reflect the light. Her mouth drips red, crimson pouring down her chin. It’s always a startling realization to see her in her glory, a beast with prey, rending flesh from bone. The metallic tang of copper hits his nostrils and oozes down the back of his throat. It’s a stench he knows all too well, and not just because he’s involved with a vampire. It's a scent he carries with him. His hippocampus storing it. A reminder linked to memory, to emotion. Fear. Danger… The way she moans. He shakes his head, clearing the thoughts. Refocusing. 

The way she feeds in seclusion, hidden in the dark— this isn’t the way she treats him. There’s no romance here. The way she drinks from him is an act of bonding. Something tender, draped in all of the seductive elegance Rory had always carried with her. This— this is predatory. Violent. Cruel and crude as she satiates her most base need: to eat, to perpetuate her life. Even her undead one still requires sustenance.

That doesn't stop the disgust that burrows deep within him on a level he doesn’t quite understand. That primordial fear of the things in the shadows that go unseen, the reason why man sought fire in the dark. He’s learned not to let his emotions get the better of him when it matters, not to fall prey to instincts that went against his training, but witnessing the woman he loves turn into the very thing that parents have been checking under the bed and in closets for for centuries still needles in his brain.

She’s the top of the food chain, and he knows it.

The complete lack of humanity in her as she feeds on their enemies is a grotesque thing to witness. She had always been cold when it came to her kills, resolute with a trigger, never questioning her motivation to take a shot. Now, the weapon was removed from the equation. This was all just her. No switch flipped or order given. She was in her natural setting. 

Her long, sharp fangs descend and they don’t merely puncture small wounds into the artery to drink. Instead, she rips the layers of skin away with the frenzied delight of a child and a gift’s wrapping paper on Christmas morning. Giving into whatever it was that sustained her, whether disease or curse, he couldn’t be sure. No one did. It was just the truth of things. 

John lingers just out of sight, in the shadows watching, feeling like a voyeur as she grips at this stranger's dark hair, clawing at his scalp as she forces their head back and latches on with the same persistence as a leech. Her lips (the same one he’s fantasized about being on him) wrap around the throbbing pulse point, flooding her throat with their essence. Bleeding them like a stuck pig. Draining them until they're little more than a husk— as dry as the bloody desert. 

He grimaces at the spectacle. The body tossed away from her when done. Discarding the trash. A lesser life form that’s only use is to be fed upon after being a bullet sponge, fodder for some piece of filth they’ve been sent in to deal with.

Her hand drags over her lips as she smacks them and her tongue dips over plump lips, drenched in the color of life while she remains so plainly dead. Pale, pallid. Forever perfect like one of those stone angels guarding over tombs in a cemetery. 

A quiet groan of sated pleasure echoes in the silent room as she stands there, bodies strewn around her, and his breath hitches. He’s caught only the last dregs of her feast, her plate finally cleared. It’s clear Rory has a near insatiable hunger, an unquenchable thirst that constantly drives her, and he can only imagine the sheer will it must take her not to devour an entire base of soldiers when she’s stationed at one. She could do so far too easily. How she hasn’t lost control and torn his throat out yet, he can only imagine. The indomitable strength she carries was something he always recognized in her, it had never been more apparent than in this moment. She glances over her shoulder and the swirling depths of scarlet in her irises regard him as if he’s caught her in a lie, a secret, something that was never meant to be divulged to him. But there's no judgment in his stare, just the same unreadable gaze of a man who’s seen and done monstrous things-– 

Who was he to cast the first stone, after all?

tagging the cod list folks [opt in/out]

@taciturntraveller @writeforfandoms @imagoddamnonionmason @chadillacboseman @efingart

@alypink @roofgeese @harmonyowl @g0dspeeed @simplegenius042

@voidika @strangefable @direwombat @la-grosse-patate @josephseedismyfather

@statichvm @clicheantagonist @tommyarashikage @aceghosts @inafieldofdaisies

@raresvtm @cloudofbutterflies92 @justasmolbard @finding-comfort-in-rain

@imogenkol @cassietrn @carlosoliveiraa @confidentandgood

[creatingblackcharacters]

(This is a little messy as I still have things to flesh out and also don’t want to give you an insane amount to read through. How is he looking as a Black character?) Darryl Carter Michaels Darryl is a young Black man with a flair for the theatrical and a never ending curiosity. He has a love for fantasy, musicals, and fiction in general. While he is a capable singer and actor, having been in theater throughout his school years, he tends to prefer working behind the scenes. He enjoys making the magic happen and seeing how things work. Having lost his birth parents to a car accident when he was just shy of two years old, he was raised by a well off mixed race couple who believed they could not conceive. His father, a Black man, and mother, a white woman, loved him just as they would their own flesh and blood. They showered him in love, attention, and any material good he could ever want. When Darryl was five years old, his parents were shocked to learn they had conceived. His parents made sure to thoroughly explain the situation to their son and give him lots of love and encouragement to be a big brother. Even so, the preparations did take away some of their attention that would usually go to Darryl. When his twin sisters arrived, he was both excited and jealous. While his father was certain to give Darryl the love and attention he needed, his mother was more wrapped up in her new babies than anyone or anything else. While the mother did give Darryl more attention as the girls aged and could better handle themselves, things were never quite the same between them. It felt more like he was a nephew of hers, rather than her son. His father, on the other hand, was just as loving as he always was, sharing his love equally between his son and two daughters. The twin girls loved Darryl and Darryl was loving and protective of them. He takes pride in being their older brother. As Darryl grew up, he tried to win his mother’s love the way it used to be, excelling in school, performing as an actor, and being the best person he could possibly be. When he got older, he realized it was a futile task and seemed to settle for what he had; a loving father, fantastic sisters, and a mostly loving mother. During his time in college, his perspective changed. He met his best friend, Joyce, a Black trans woman who taught him to see the value in himself and realize it was his mother who was in the wrong. After graduation, Darryl decided to confront his mother about her behavior and not put up with it any longer. He moved to another city (a bit over an hour away) and is now trying to find himself without judging his value based on his mother. He still keeps in contact with his father and sisters, still visiting on occasion, but has a tenuous relationship with his mother. She wants to rekindle what they once had, but knows it will take time and a great effort on her part. Meanwhile, Darryl met Audrey Davis, the woman who will one day be his wife. Between her, Joyce, his father, his sisters, and Audrey’s family, he has more love than he could ever know what to do with.

Hell of a story, especially as someone with Value of Mother™ issues. I hope she does right by him, he deserves it. Sounds good to me 👍🏾

[iguessitsjustme]

Be My Favorite - Episode 12 Thoughts

Oh look I’m watching it the day it airs for the finale. My predictions are: Max deserves better and Pear deserves better. I made myself some nachos and I bought chocolate earlier that’s not chillin in my freezer so let’s goooo:

-I was actually sick last week while watching the episode. Just a cold but I still have a cough and I think it’s so funny. Art imitates my life I guess lol

-Listening to the background vocals for the first time on this opening and holy shit way to go Krist hot damn I’m impressed. 

-I actually agree with Kawi about fame. It’s not everything and privacy concerns are so valid. 

-I’m still lost on this time travel thing. Do they inhabit their 17 year old bodies? Is it like a possession? What’s happening? I want answers I’ll never get. Wait are they even 17 at this point or are they older? Like early 20s?

-Dear BMF, I appreciate you giving the audience the roller coaster experience however I have severe motion sickness and now I feel ill so thanks for that. 

-I do like that they hold onto each others hands when they need support. I wish we had better build up to these moments though. 

-How long are these two gonna stare at each other? I get it but it’s boring to watch.

-Max my beloved. I missed you. 

-I’m glad Pear found someone who makes her happy. She deserves her happy ending more than any other character. 

-Did this show just give Not a happy ending of being a famous author cause I’m gonna go dive into some concrete. Dear lord we suffered him and yet there he remained. 

-WHY WAS THAT GUITAR SO CLOSE TO THE WATER?

-Also put that down before I scream. 

-There have been way too many montages in this show. 

-Seriously move that guitar before my blood pressure rises even more. 

-This was a perfectly passable show. Which is more than I can say about most Jittirain shows. 

-Max definitely deserved better. Where is his show? Where is his boyfriend?

[allegoryofthebeast]

I am obsessed that Jedi: Survivor explores Cal more or less slipping into the dark side/dark behaviors and patterns and how leaning into emotion as a Jedi can make you significantly more powerful though also extremely reckless and aggressive - however a balance could perhaps be reached by Jedi with the patience and support to understand their darker emotions and how it could be beneficial or harmful given the situation. But they fr don’t. Every time something within that vein happens to Cal everyone is like damn… crazy. Anyway

[icewindandboringhorror]

Recent game related things .. hrmm...

[silverselfshippingchaos]

man.. shipping with characters from movies is so hard..

[awkward-thinker]

So I’ve been rewatching the first season of Beyburst recently, and oH MY GOD?? I missed it more than I ever thought I would. ;A; Coming back to it feels like this Fallen Down cover. Which is absolutely amazing and super calming, by the way, it’s my favorite one. ;w;

I started watching Burst waaaaay back when it first came out (my first introduction to Beyblade was watching the barest minimum of Metal Fury, then I only watched a little bit of Shogun Steel), and it was my favorite thing ever. It’s how Beyburst latched onto me for like 6 years and never really let go. I’ve been with the Turbo gang for so long that I forgot how much I loved the Burst gang, and don’t get me wrong, the Turbo characters are good individually, (although most if not all of them have untapped potential) but the Burst characters hit different. Their bonds with each other are just so wonderful. ;W;

[peapod20001]

Cracks me tf up how Ozzie is literally. He looks exactly how he did when I first drew him