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lushrue · 5 months ago

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dinner party (nsfw)

ghoap x fem!reader

cw: oral (m and f receiving), dubcon (sort of?), voyeurism, dom ghost

it was supposed to be a normal dinner party.

by all accounts, it had been up to this point. it wasn’t unusual for your husband to invite the men he worked with over for dinner, especially johnny. the man lives alone, he’d said, least I can do is give ‘em a nice home-cooked meal every once in a while. you always pulled out the stops, cooking something bordering on gourmet that the mess halls couldn’t even hope to replicate. tonight, it had been grilled salmon with wild rice and roasted asparagus.

conversation over dinner was normal, aided by the wine and whiskey loosening everyone’s lips. you’re far more sociable than simon is, but that doesn't take much, so the alcohol kept the words flowing freely. it wasn’t until after dinner that things started to shift.

the three of you settled in the living room with your respective spirits, wrapping up the night with friendly conversation over light dessert. you moved to your usual spot in the armchair beside the bookshelf, but the sound of simon clicking his tongue at you stopped you in your tracks. he was sat in his own chair nearest the sofa, legs spread like a king on his throne. you couldn’t quite keep your eyes from wandering, admiring the way his jeans clung to his thighs. he met your gaze, the corner of his lips quirked up in a mischievous smirk. he patted his thigh and you felt embarrassment burn your cheeks.

you glanced over to johnny, as if to remind simon that you had company, but he didn’t seem to care. his dark eyes stayed fixed on you, silence falling over the room as johnny’s gaze followed his lieutenant’s. simon cocked his head, a gesture that you recognized as obey or else. you didn’t feel like testing the waters tonight, so you padded over to him, perching yourself on his thigh.

your husband’s arm snaked around your waist as you swirled your wine in your glass, staring at the whirlpool it created to distract you from the way johnny was eyeing you. simon had pulled you onto his lap for a reason, and part of you wondered if it wasn’t entirely selfish motivation that had you positioned here. simon’s hand stroked over the crushed velvet of the dress he’d insisted you wear, sliding down to grip your ass occasionally when you got too fidgety.

conversation gradually turned to their work, so you tuned them out. it wasn’t that you weren’t interested; most of it just flew over your head. it gave you time to focus on the way your husband was feeling you up. his hand never stayed in one place too long, sliding from your shoulder to your spine to the nape of your neck and down. it made shivers run down your spine, goosebumps rising on your arms and legs the longer it continued. despite your squirming, you managed to stay ladylike, a metaphorical aspirin between your knees as the two men talked.

“so, how’s y’r sex life?” simon asked, which snapped you back to attention. johnny seemed just as bewildered as you did at the question, his cheeks flushed scarlet beneath the stubble. you nudged simon’s shoulder, shaking your head at him. “simon, that’s not polite,” you said, but he didn’t pay you any mind. he was too busy watching johnny fluster and scramble to find his words. “l.t., I-” he started, but simon held up a hand to stop him. “nah, don’ play dumb with me, lad. heard ya jus’ the other day in the rec room. talkin’ about how ya haven’t had a good shag in months, somethin’ like tha’.”

you were just as embarrassed as johnny was now. you knew simon wasn’t the most tactful of men, but this was a whole other level. johnny stuttered around his words, trying to find some kind of reply that was appropriate for the situation. nothing would be appropriate for this situation, you thought. simon just chuckled, his hand rubbing the plush cheek of your ass. “look how flustered ‘e is, lovie,” he said to you, finally giving you his full attention. “poor man, doesn’ have a good bird like I do. no one to cook ‘im a nice dinner and keep ‘is cock wet.”

as flustered as you were, the words sent a jolt straight to your core. taking care of your husband was a sense of pride for you. you got a primal satisfaction out of sinking to your knees and sucking him dry after he’d had a hard day. it meant the world to you when his shoulders sagged and released the burden that he’d been carrying, all at your hands. you shifted on his lap, pressing your thighs together to get some relieving friction.

simon looked back at johnny, who seemed just as affected. he had his hands clasped over his lap, his gaze cast down at the throw rug like it was the most interesting thing he’d ever seen. “ya wanna know wha’ it’s like, sergeant?” simon asked, his voice dropping into a register only you got to hear. “wanna feel my sweet, pretty dove wrapped aroun’ ya?” johnny jolted like he’d been shocked with a prod, wide blue eyes looking up at his commanding officer. there was bewilderment there, you noticed. clearly, he hadn’t been expecting this. but behind the surprise, there was something more carnal. he looked hungry, like a mutt begging for scraps from the table.

your husband placed a firm hand on your back, taking the wine glass from your hands and coaxing you to stand. “g’won, lovie. on your knees for our bashful lad, hmm?” simon’s choice of words struck you. our. this was for both of you, not just simon. the two of you had discussed the idea of a threesome once, but it felt like a pipe dream then. you’d expressed interest, never really expecting simon to share but confessing your fantasy all the same. and now, here it was. Happening.

you did as you were told, kneeling in front of the sofa where johnny was. from this angle, you could see how harshly his chest was rising and falling, his breath quick and uncertain. it brought you a strange sense of satisfaction that you could fluster a special ops soldier so easily. you sat there expectantly, but johnny didn’t move. he just stared at you, almost the same way he’d stared at his dinner plate before digging in. his eyes traced the contours of your body, over your shoulders and down to your full chest, over your breasts and down to the plush of your stomach and thighs where they pressed against your dress.

“starin’ won’ make ‘er cum, johnny,” simon quipped. you drew in a sharp breath, glancing back over your shoulder at your husband. he clicked his tongue again, motioning back towards johnny. “ah-ah, keep your eyes on ‘im, precious. he needs y’r attention more’n I do.” you looked back up at johnny dutifully, your lips parting slightly as you waited for him to do something, anything. the fabric of the rug was biting into your knees, making you a tad uncomfortable. “she’s yer wife, simon, I cannae jus’-” “you can an’ you will,” simon interrupted. “the only way she gets any pleasure tonigh’ is by your hand, an’ I don’t let my wife go to bed unsatisfied.” you let out a whine at that, the stakes so much higher now that you knew the terms. johnny just had to touch you.

“steamin’ jesus,” the Scot cursed under his breath, your whine sending a spark of pleasure between his legs. he’d never heard a woman make that sound before, especially not at the prospect of being pleased by him. “i can touch ‘er?” he asked, but he didn’t look at simon for an answer. his stare was more intense, sizing you up, deciding which piece of you would be most juicy to sink his teeth into. simon hummed in amusement. “unless y’r bloody telekinetic, s’pose ya have to, don’ ya?” simon responded, shifting in his chair. you heard the zipper of his jeans go down and it was almost painful that you couldn’t look at him.

johnny reached forward, taking your chin in his thumb and forefinger. he stroked his thumb along your jaw, shuddering on his exhale. “y’r so soft,” he breathed out, marvelling at the beauty of you on your knees. you lean your head into his touch, following the pulls and pushes of his hand as he inspects you. “such a bonnie bird,” he cooed, spreading his legs and pulling you in closer to him. you shuffle forward, settling yourself more squarely between his knees.

“simon says ya suck cock like a dream. is he righ’?” johnny asked. you nod, leaning forward to mouth at his crotch through his jeans. you could feel how hard he was already from barely having touched you. instead of focusing on the fact that simon was going around blabbing about your blowjob skills, you chose to take in as much of johnny’s musk as you could through his pants. you couldn’t quite smell him, but there was the barest hint of his body wash peeking through.

simon had started stroking himself to the sight of both of you, the wet shlick reaching your ears and emboldening you. knowing that your husband was enjoying this ignited a fire that started in your core and spread through your veins. johnny got the same motivation, locking eyes with simon for only a moment before shoving his jeans and boxers down. you gasp at the suddenness of it, placing your hands on his bare thighs to steady yourself. before you can fully get your bearings, johnny grabs the back of your head and shoves you down.

he’s not as long as simon, but he’s certainly thicker. he fills your mouth almost instantly, your cheeks aching a little with the stretch. you and johnny moan in unison, your eyes fluttering shut as johnny’s hand balls up in your hair. simon chuckles behind you, his hand tightening around himself. “tha’s it, lad. fuck ‘er mouth good, she likes it a bit rough.”

johnny’s hips start thrusting, the ruddy tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat and making you gag. tears bead up in the corners of your eyes, whimpers and moans giving johnny some vibration as he fucks your throat. you applauded yourself for the decision not to wear mascara; cleaning the tears and spit from your face would be difficult enough. saliva dribbled down johnny’s length, wetting your lips as you hollowed your cheeks. the salt of him coated your tongue, precum leaking down your throat. above you, johnny was grunting and groaning like a rutting bull, thrusting into your mouth with abandon. “how’s my girl feel, johnny?” simon asked, his voice sounding strained. hearing just how affected they both were had your pussy dripping with arousal. “fuck, si, she’s…ah, so warm. fuckin’ milkin’ me.”

your tongue traced the protruding vein on the underside of johnny’s cock, delighting in the shudder you earned from him. it didn’t take long after that for him to finish down your throat. you swallowed every drop, taking in everything he offered. he was more bitter than simon, but you enjoyed it all the same. you pulled your mouth off of johnny’s cock with a wet pop, peeking up at him with heavy lidded eyes. the man you saw was not the man who’d sat across from you at dinner. he looked downright feral, grabbing you like a man possessed. he pulled you up from the floor, laying you out on the sofa and tugging your underwear down.

before johnny tossed them away, he held them to his nose, drinking in the smell of you. he groaned, balling the fabric up in his fists. “y’r bird smells like heav’n, l.t.,” he rasped, dropping the panties and fixing his wild gaze back on you. “bet she tastes even better.” without any further warning, he dipped his head between your thighs, thick tongue lapping up the moisture from your cunt. you squealed in surprise, throwing your head back against the cushions. simon bit back a curse behind his hand, watching his best friend devour his wife like his last meal. the mere thought was enough to make him spill all over his hand and stomach, his release silent so as not to distract johnny.

you didn’t think anything could. your thighs clamped around his head to keep him in place, but it was hardly necessary. even the rapture couldn’t pull him away from your pussy and the nectar that dripped from it. as much as you enjoyed the feeling, johnny wasn’t as coordinated as simon was. his tongue was wild, moving for his pleasure rather than yours.

you twitched and moaned when he would happen to graze your clit, hoping that he’d get the hint, but he never did. there was no technique, no purpose. johnny came up for air, hazy eyes meeting yours. he was pussy-drunk, your juices shining on his lips and chin. he nosed at the inside of your plush thigh, sinking his teeth into the fat there. it stung and your back arched, reaching down to push his head away. the sting wasn’t pleasurable, not compared to his tongue against your cunt.

the moment simon caught the resistance from you, he was on his feet, yanking johnny back by his mohawk. the Scot gasped, back arching as simon held his hair tight in his fist. “easy, mutt,” simon growled in johnny’s ear, pushing his head down to look at you. “tha’s my girl, and y’r gonna treat ‘er with the respect she deserves. not some blushin’ virgin tha’s never had a woman, are ya?” johnny huffed, taking the question as an insult to his manhood. “‘course not,” he said, voice tense and strained. simon shook johnny’s head, then released his hair. “didn’ think so. remember y’r place, treat ‘er right.”

the scolding from simon had leveled johnny, forced him to slow down and think with his brain and not his cock. you twitched and whined as he paid more attention to your aching clit, swollen and puffy with desire. your hips bucked against your will, pressing against johnny’s tongue harder.

finally, his tongue pushed inside you, caressing your walls. you clenched around him, tension building in your lower stomach. “don’t stop, fuck, don’t stop!” you begged, chest heaving. simon appeared at your side, stroking your hair. his gaze was soft, admiring, a welcome contrast to johnny’s. “cum on his tongue, love. he’s been waitin’ for it, not gonna stop ‘til he gets it.” those words were all it took to push you over the edge, shuddering and whining as johnny licked you through your orgasm.

you felt floaty after, the pleasure of having your husband’s best friend eat you out while your husband watched going straight to your head. there were cooed praises and kisses to your cheeks, but you weren’t entirely sure who they came from. hushed words were exchanged at your feet, then johnny was zipping himself up and kissing you goodbye. simon wrapped you in your favorite fuzzy blanket, the gentle sway of his gait soothing you as he carried you to the bedroom. once he’d laid you on the bed, he started to leave, but your soft hum and hand on his arm stopped him. “si? can we do that again?” you asked, voice soft and wrecked.

simon just chuckled, brushing your hair away from your face. “don’ you worry, lovie. he’s comin’ back for dinner next week.”

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adorkastock · 11 months ago

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So I don't know who to ask about this, and since it's your profession, I figured you'd know most! I like to use Magic Poser to help me draw my characters' poses, but I feel like I always wind up altering the proportions to fit the models rather than my style without meaning to just because I'm drawing what I'm looking at. It feels less like looking at a reference and more copying a picture, and it makes me feel really bad, like I'm cheating at art. Do you have any thoughts or word of advice on this? I'd greatly appreciate it. Thanks!

Hey Nonnie! Hmmm there's I feel like kind of two questions here. One, using Magic Poser or any other legit reference to make your art is not cheating. It's just using a tool the way it's meant to be used (as a reference). There's nothing at all wrong with that. ♥ However, if you are getting Not The Results You Want from this process that's another issue entirely. So, two: what do I do if the art I'm making from reference doesn't look like *my* art? If you find that working from a reference is changing your style in ways you don't like, I have suggestions: 1) do a sketch from the reference just like you normally would in whatever style comes out naturally using the reference 2) look at the drawing you did and put the reference away 3) draw another drawing from the drawing you did but try to make adjustments towards the stylization you prefer (your first drawing is your reference for your second) OR, if your brain will do this for you: 3b) after sketching from the reference (maybe a few times for good measure) put the reference away completely and try to draw the pose from memory* and see what happens. If you think you're overly reliant on references to the point you think it's holding you back then you can start to wean yourself off of them but doing more and more drawing without them. Maybe start with a 20min warm-up on my Sketch App drawing a bunch of poses really fast from reference, then pull up a new pose, look at it, and try to draw it without checking back in at all. Honestly the best way to get to a style you like is to just draw A LOT. Draw lots of different ways. Mess around with line weight and shapes. Make things swish, make them pointy, make lines that cross over a lot, make a mess, make it neat, keep going. Do a lot of drawing and investigate what feels and looks right to you. And if a tool isn't serving your goals, you can let it go. It might be hard at first but you will find your way. ♥ * Side note: I have aphantasia which means I don't have head pictures. If I look at a reference and walk into the other room, I am not going to be able to replicated it very well from memory. That being said, if I sketch a pose over and over and over a bunch I will retain it somehow, somewhere (I don't know how brains work). The next time I go to draw that pose it will be easier. Just popping this in here in case you have the same trouble.

#art advice #ask adorkastock

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skaldish · 10 months ago

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Alright folks. Here it is, my theory of what Ragnarok actually represents. It is very messy and I'm not sure I'm going to be able to actually convey my understanding clearly like I try with most things, because genuinely this is shit I would write a doctorate-level thesis on.

But we're going to try anyway.

So. After doing a lot to try to replicate animistic thinking, as well as taking a VERY deep read of the Norse myths, my theory is that Ragnarok is specifically allegory for societal collapse—the "end of the world" imagery and such is meant to convey what this feels like.

Recall what Odin says in Grimnismal. It goes something like this, since I can't be arsed to find the exact quote:

Huginn and Muninn fly over the world every day; while I fear Huginn ("thought") may not return, I fear Muninn's ("memory's") absence most.

When a society collapses, so does it's memory. It loses its technology, its methodologies, its paradigms, and everything it has learned about the world up to that point. Gone. Entire chapters of history erased.

What causes societal collapse is not always a conquering force, but is oftentimes the result of circumstances that a society orchestrates for itself. Think Rome.

People who have gone through societal collapse will probably develop an invested interest in figuring out how to prevent it entirely, so they don't have to start society all over again.

It's one thing to preserve the memory of "things collapsed and here's why" using a story. But it's another thing to do what apparently the Norse people did, which is cultivate a methodology for cognitively hardening their own society against collapse, using stories as a way to do it.

Like...I'm not kidding when I say they legitimately knew how the human mind works, and then built an entire system of stories and narratives that intentionally support the mind's freedom, cultivation, and agency. I can only convey a fraction of how this works in this post because the rest requires a deep-dive into behavioral psychology and neurological development.

All the tales leading to Ragnarok demonstrate various instances where the gods choose to follow their own agendas at the expense of the real people and forces in the world. All of these little things contribute to the magnitude of the event that is Ragnarok.

The tales represent these transgressions using allegories rather than literal events. This is because these stories were designed for children, who don't process information through a prefrontal cortex like we do as adults. They don't have them yet. But this gives kids an intuitive understanding for how circumstances of collapse feel, so they can recognize them in all their forms.

Loki is an allegory for the mischief we feel as children, and for the behaviors we demonstrate before we get to the age where we start valuing cooperation. In the myths, every time Loki causes mischief in ways that creates problems, the gods get mad at him and threaten Loki's life until he fixes his mess. Loki eventually becomes vindictive, kills Baldr in a jealous fit, and then is punished by being bound and buried beneath the ground, only to fight against the gods in Ragnarok.

The surface-level takeaway is a lesson in parenting: If we punish kids for their mischief, they're going to become vindictive adults, and these adults are going to have it out for the rest of society because they've been disenfranchised.

But it doesn't just end here. Consider how we punish ourselves for our own sense of mischief, beating ourselves up for having "problematic" thoughts and trying to bind and bury those thoughts in the depths of our mind.

These thoughts come from a place our mind known as the limbic system, which is focused on avoiding pain and seeking pleasure, and—most importantly—does not understand the world or make decisions using logic and reason, but in terms of what feels enjoyable and what doesn't.

We tend to call this system our inner child.

When we punish our inner child, that child starts doing exactly what Loki does and resorts to malicious and petty tricks. We can hold this behavior at bay until something causes us to "snap" (like Jörmungandr's tail does) and out comes the malice of the disenfranchised inner child, which creates a terrible cascade of social consequences for us.

Now, if we were to listen to these stories as kids, we would naturally be very upset whenever Loki was threatened of punished, because we think out of the limbic system at that age and Loki is meant to represent us—specifically, the state of being a kid. We would see what comes to pass, with Loki being imprisoned and fighting the gods against Ragnarok, and it would become clear to us that there's consequences for punishing mischief AND also causing too much of it.

Now I don't know about you, but I was very motivated by a sense of justice as a kid. Hearing Loki's arc would have inspired me to learn how to be friends with my sense of mischief while also learning to use it in ways that were cooperative and social, because this would have been how I could right the wrong I felt was done to Loki. It would also mean my own limbic system will not fight against me in the future, but be a modality of thought I can always access. (This is the beauty of the way the Norse myths are crafted; they are designed to instill knowledge of the world using mechanisms that reinforce one's own sense of agency and competency, so rather than being told the moral of this tale, it sets me up to run right into the conclusion it wants me to draw, but in a way that makes me feel smart and therefore inspires me to value it.)

The binding of Fenrir serves a similar allegory. When we become explosively angry in the way that Fenrir represents, it consumes our wisemind the same way Fenrir consumes Odin during Ragnarok. But this only happens if we bind Fenrir/our anger. By demonizing this nature of ours simply for existing, it will not only refuse to listen to us, but also turn against us. Remember that Fenrir was willing to socialize and cooperate with the gods before his betrayal.

(Honestly, I believe this is why ulfheiðnar existed the way they did. Even though the animalistic rage of ulfheiðnar was too terrible for domestic society, it was not demonized, but instead given a social function. People would learn to understand and partner with their own sense of rage, and I'm guessing this is also how they were able to keep their sense of reason and priorities straight even while going berserk from psychoactives.)

These two examples serve to illustrate how societal collapse stems from binding or punishing our own natures. But also fearing our own nature as mortals factors into it.

For example, Naglfar. This is a ship constructed of dead people's fingernails, and its completion is part of what signals the beginning of Ragnarok. But as the story goes, we can delay Naglfar's construction by trimming the nails of the dead before we bury them.

Naglfar represents "neglect for the dead," and this is significant because the act of no longer viewing the dead as people is sort of like the canary in the coal mine for no longer view each other as people...and no longer seeing people as people is what defines Ragnarok.

A society is at peace when its people have no fear of death, and having no fear of death comes only by incorporating death as a normal and familiar part of life, just like we do with birth. Our relationship with death is a litmus test for our relationship with our own humanity—if we fear the dead and cannot see them as human beings, then we are always going to fear a part of our own humanity, and be at war with it. The simple act of keeping the nails of the dead well-groomed because it stalls Naglfar's construction was a way to remind people why such a simple act was profoundly important.

And these are just the things that I can think of off the top of my head that are the most obvious examples. There are—and I shit you not—multitudes of these things laced within the Norse myths.

(I haven't even gotten to the part about how the Norse creation myth uses what the womb feels like to characterize it. Telling this story to very little children helps them establish a sense of familiarity, belonging, and secure attachment with the entire world from the get-go. If they learn the world is everything they've already experienced, then their bodies will never be afraid of it, because nothing about it will feel unknown or unknowable. Like, how fucking dope can you get.)

So here's where we get to the really dense irony of all this: Why we don't pick up on all these nuances as Westerners and have so far missed this entirely.

It is for two reasons.

The first is because our society values the things that the Norse people identified as contributing to societal collapse—namely, the act of conquering/competing against other forces and conquering/competing against our own natures. The transgressions of the Aesir are not things we register as problematic because to us they're normal.

The second is that we don't think animistically. The way we are taught to convey, interpret, and transmit information is designed PURELY by and for the prefrontal cortex, with neglect to everything else (if you ever wonder why Americans look weird in how we behave, this is why). But because we only prioritize communicating this way, we're missing out on all the context added within the Norse myths. These myths function the same way Old Norse kennings did, in that they are designed to speak to ALL areas of the brain at once and in tandem, but if we only engage with it using one part of the brain, we're only going to get a small piece of the picture and the rest is going to look weird.

(Little experiment for you: Try to logic something out in your mind or think through a complex problem without using words or sentences to do it. Use any other kind of thought-process besides language. I promise you that not only is this possible, but it yields a completely different kind of experience and conclusion than you might otherwise reach.)

Honestly, I don't even think Snorri himself fully understood what he was looking at when he was recording the Norse myths. I think he was just writing them down according to how they were told, word-for-word. But his cluelessness is our good fortune now, because he not only preserved the cultural stories, but also what I consider an entire cognitive technology.

And every time I look at it, I can't help but think about the generations of people who sat around the fire in the dead of winter, weaving, crafting, and figuring out better ways to fortify their society, raise kids so they became fine and truly fearless people, and conserve information. This is, as far as I'm concerned, real magic.

They knew some shit.

#ragnarok #zan speaks #norse paganism #I'm sorry if this is incomprehensible #I tried

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whateversawesome · 4 months ago

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Spy x Family Ch. 111: Anya's Mama

So many things for such a little chapter, don't you think?

We saw baby Anya and we finally caught a glimpse of Anya's biological mother.

Something to notice is that they're both wearing hospital gowns, which makes me think they were in the lab and, because of that, we can solidify the theory about Anya being born there. It could be that her mom was pregnant when captured or that they experimented on her and she got pregnant while in that lab. A secret third option is that Anya's mom actually volunteered for the experiments (maybe she was a scientist herself or a family member coaxed her into doing it), although I find this unlikely due to her comment about the butterfly. Either way, I have a feeling we won't know for a very long time.

Mindreading or no mindreading?

Endo chose not to let us know about that explicitly. However, look at this panel:

I don't think Anya's mom is talking here. I think she's thinking this. Because of that, I do suspect Anya can read her mama's mind. She doesn't fully understand it but those words are inside her memory.

However, as you can see in the panel below, we don't see her classic mindreading sparkles. So, it' could also be that she saw her mom getting sad or nostalgic and she wanted to hug her. Kids are very perceptive of their parent's emotions.

If you ask me, I think she was born with that ability. Either her mom was also a telepath who was being studied during her pregnancy or she was experimented while pregnant and gained and passed her abilities to her daughter.

All this makes me consider that maybe Anya wasn't experimented on like many of us believed for a long time. Maybe those scientists were just studying her/observing her in order to understand and try to replicate her abilities. I'm really hoping Endo will go this route, it's less cruel. In any case, keeping someone so young as a case study is still wrong and I don't think Twilight and Yor will like this.

Anya's Mama

I'm talking about Yor, of course.

First of all, I think Endo summed up what motherhood is about in this panel:

It's not exactly that a mom can read their kid's mind, but it's something close. As a mom you get to know your child inside and out. When you take care of them, see them grow and love them with all your heart, you simply learn to "read every part of them."

That's how we know that Yor loves Anya and that she is her mom.

I don't know what happened to Anya's biological mom; she could be gone or still be alive. I'm sure we'll find out eventually. However, no matter what happens, I think Anya will always have that unconditional love from Yor.

There's a prevalent theme about motherhood in sxf: a mother as a safe place. Yor has mentioned it several times; she knows her job is to protect Anya and Anya feels safe when her mama is around (even Twilight notices this.)

I think the bond between them will get stronger as the story moves forward. Come on, it's pretty obvious Anya is Yor's baby, she's already head over heels and she decided she wanted to be a good mother since day 1. Also, a big theme in the story are bonds that are forged, and chosen family. In the story, blood ties sometimes are complicated (look at the Desmonds, for example.)

I'm not fluent in Japanese, but I am aware that Anya calls Yor and Twilight, Haha and Chichi, which is an English equivalent of "my mom and my dad", instead of just "mom and dad." In case you are wondering, Anya did call her biological mom, the right way: "mama."

At some point in the story, I think we will see Anya call Yor and Twilight, mama and papa the right way. I suspect this will be the moment when they will realize they're no longer a pretend family, but a real one. And it'll be simply beautiful 💖

A Few Questions

Whenever we learn something about one of the Forger's past, we are usually left with even more questions like:

Where's Anya's mom now?: I think either she's still a prisoner somewhere or she's dead. And if she's alive, does she know Anya lives?

How did Anya escape? She was so little! She must have had help from someone.

Who is Anya's dad? Maybe a scientist? A prisoner of war? Or was artificial insemination possible back then?

Is Anya her real name? I'm wondering if her mom called her differently. Here are some theories about her name. I suspect this will be important and I wouldn't be surprised if Anya is not her real name, almost as a foil of Twilight's name and story.

And also, there's a gap between that scene/memory and when Anya gets adopted by Twilight. We know thanks to Franky that in the year before Twilight adopted her, she was previously adopted by four different families, however, there's still a chunk of time missing.

I estimate she's probably 2 years old in that memory, she was 4 when she was adopted by those other families, and 5 years old when Twilight became her dad. That leaves 2 full years blank. Where was she during that time?

#spy x family #sxf #anya forger #loid forger #yor forger #spy x family analysis #spy x family manga #spy x family meta

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alucarddear · 2 years ago

Note

Position anon again, would you please write a NSFW alphabet for Alucard? Pretty please? 🥺

Alucard N S F W Alphabet*

I'm personally offended that I haven't done this for Lulu before. Anyway, rather than just spelling out his name, I'll give you the entire alphabet. Heh. This is LONG! Your thoughts and keyboard smashes are welcome. 🤭

P.S. I go explicit and specific; read at your own risk. I also tried my best to keep it as gender-neutral as possible, so this is [Alucard x You]. However, I did have a little self-indulgent fun with W: wild card, the only section with an obvious she/her indication. Just so you know!

A: Aftercare (what they're like after sex)

Aftercare is not optional to this dhampir. It's a must. It doesn't matter if you had a quick romp or a long night, he'd still take the time to treat you right, especially if he'd been rather rough with you.

Forehead kisses, soft caresses, helping clean you up—you name it and he's got it covered. It's all about making sure you feel loved, appreciated, and cared for.

Alucard is not one to just up and leave or make you feel used. In fact, it's noticeable how much more he dotes on you after actually using you up good and fucking you raw into next week. 😏

B: Body part (their favourite body part of theirs and their partner’s)

Your neck. Let's not even pretend that Alucard doesn't gravitate towards it. As you ride him, he buries his face in the crook of your neck and nips and pecks at your throat. There's a part of him that wants to sink his fangs into you then and there and another that wants nothing more than to whisper sweet nothings against your skin as you throw your head back in bliss.

Alucard likes his hands—the way they're so large against yours; how perfectly your hands feel in his own. He likes his hands gripping your thighs or hips, his hand coming down to slap your ass, his hands caressing every inch of you. The way his hand closes around your wrist, encircling it completely as if it was made to do nothing but. The way he pushes you down with his hand on the small of your back as he prepares to take you from behind. Most of all, all of the things his hands can do to make you cum.

C: Cum (anything to do with cum)

Alucard's desire to spill his seed inside you is next to nothing sometimes. If you'd let him, he'd bury himself balls-deep and cum inside you each and every time.

He loves to make you cum, loves the way you sound—the hitching of your breath, your begging, the way you can barely keep yourself from shaking as he coaxes yet another orgasm out of you. He loves to praise you for it. "God, you're fucking beautiful," is something you hear often. It just never gets old.

D: Dirty secret (a dirty secret of theirs)

Alucard loves when you allow him to bend you over whichever way he pleases. Loves how tiny and pliable you look underneath him, adjusting and propping your arms and legs as he sees fit. Just the sight of you like that, it's enough to push him over the edge.

So, you know he draws you—you are his muse after all. You've seen his sketches. But not the ones of your beautiful, naked body. Not even the tasteful pieces he draws as you sleep. Not the ones where, try as he might, he just can't replicate how utterly divine you look when he fucks you. He's a talented artist, but nothing tops the real thing.

E: Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Is he very experienced? No. Does he know what he's doing? Hell yes. His mother was a doctor and his father is a man of science. He lives in a castle full of resources. He has deep knowledge of biology—he's got the theory down pat. Sure, he fumbled a little the first few times, but he quickly learnt how you like to be pleased.

Besides, being a dhampir, Alucard is in tune with your body's responses to his ministrations. When you're intimate, he can practically feel your heart racing, dear. He knows when you're close, can tell when he's hitting it good, need I say more?

F: Favourite position (this goes without saying)

Mastery. He sits on the edge of the bed, feet flat on the floor to support you sitting on top of him with your legs bent on either side of him, your feet flat on the bed. This position allows you to wrap your arms around his neck and kiss. It lets you start off slow, very intimate—with you grinding against and riding him. Once you're a little tired (or he starts growing impatient), he simply grips your hips and pounds up into you until you're a screaming wreck. His grip on your hips and his feet securely planted on the floor allows him to rut into you fast. And the view? Fucking fantastic. He loves watching you come undone like this, seeing you throw your head back and expose your throat to him. Yes.

For a quick romp, you can't go wrong with doggy style. When you're in his study and you both get a little too distracted? He’ll bend you over his desk and have his way with you.

G: Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Oh, he's very serious about giving both of you a good time, alright. He might do something that makes you giggle, sure, but for the most part it's probably accidental and not his intention. Sex with Alucard can be intimate and sweet or downright animals humping in the undergrowth (👀), no in between. He's not here for the shits and giggles, darling.

H: Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

It does match. Maybe not all the time completely bare, but he keeps himself neat and tidy. Do you see his luxurious hair? He takes care of himself down there too.

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

Alucard loves to see you and hear you. He's considerate and goes out of his way to find what works for you. So much so he probably has ruined you for anyone else. You'll never find a more receptive lover; it’s time to accept that.

When you make sweet love, he whispers sweet nothings against your skin. He peppers kisses all over you and makes you feel like the most gorgeous being on the planet. He's not afraid to voice his thoughts out loud too, praising you and urging you on.

J: Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

You remember those naughty sketches of you? Yep. He has used them a couple times while you were away. You're in his thoughts whenever he touches himself.

K: Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Edging. He not-so-secretly loves it when you beg. How are you to know how much more you can take? He'll just have to show you.

When you moan his name as you grip the sheets and quake beneath him? Yeah. He loves it, especially when you can barely even make out the words for “Adrian, please, please, please.”

When you take control and ride him like your life depends on it, it does something to his brain. You on top, taking control and looking absolutely beautiful as you do so... he could cum just from the thought of it.

There is a part of him that likes the thought of cumming deep inside you and breeding you. Maybe it's that loneliness that sometimes nags at him, maybe he yearns for a family, but he can't lie this feels utterly divine.

L: Location (favourite places to do the do)

The bed is cliche, but it works and is comfortable. Your kitchen counter, desk, against the wall or a tree, table, or out at some secluded clearing by the lake... Alucard is truly not that picky, as long as you're not out in the public for other eyes to see and you’re both comfortable.

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

Your reactions and enthusiasm. Knowing you're into it just as much as he is.

When you sashay towards him, crooking your finger at him to beckon him closer? He's right there with you in a heartbeat.

When you wear his shirt and it swallows your smaller frame? It turns him on more than he lets on.

When you moan his name and gasp and writhe in pleasure. When you beg for him to take you harder, faster, and deeper. It just about short-circuits his brain.

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

Any form of bondage or restrictions to his movement. It brings up unnecessary trauma and makes him feel that he's not in control or safe. He is mostly a switch, sure, letting you take control and dominate too, but tying him up is just a no-go for him.

He won't transform into a wolf. It's practically bestiality, which he's not down for.

Somnophilia or any other act where consent can be dubious. He's just big on consent and trust, for obvious reasons.

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

He loves having absolute control over your pleasure, knowing it's him coaxing the sighs and moans and screams out of you. He enjoys how easily he can make you cum and drive you mad.

That said, he also loves watching you pleasure him, taking as much of his hard length as you can, especially whenever you greedily swallow his load.

P: Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

It really depends. Sex can be whatever it needs to be in the moment. While he loves nothing more than to take his time and make sweet love to you, he also loves ravaging you and leaving you utterly spent. It's satisfying either way.

The usual case is he begins slowly and sensually, but by the end of it (and sometimes without warning), he's rutting into you like his life depends on it.

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

He isn't above having a quickie if that is all time permits, but he would really much rather have his way with you properly!

R: Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Given that he's a dhampir, he knows exactly how to go unseen or unnoticed. It's likely his risk assessment is much more honed. You might think you're being risky, but he is well aware of the chances of you getting caught in the act.

As for experimenting—other than his hard reservations (the ones listed in N), he is game to experiment and try different things you may be curious about as long as you both feel safe and comfortable about them.

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

He's a dhampir... need I say more? The chances of you exhausting him first is little. Sorry to burst your bubble. 😆 He's got stamina for days, honey.

T: Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Alucard is not above using toys to pleasure you. But what can a toy do that he can't do better? Hah. Chances are he will attempt to learn how it pleases you and try to replicate that with his own cock, mouth, and hands.

U: Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He can be such a little tease. You know the way he banters. That snark and sass can sometimes make their way inside the bedroom too.

"What was that, darling?" he'd ask, as if his amazing sense of hearing wasn't enough to register your begging as he edges you for the nth time. "Tsk. Patience, my love..." he would even dare chide you!

Alucard also loves to glide his fangs over your skin, just enough to leave a faint mark but not enough to draw blood.

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

He’s not shy to let you know he’s having a good time, but he’s also not overly loud. He gasps, moans, and curses, a tight-lipped “Fuck!” slipping out once in a while.

W: Wild card (a random headcanon)

He loves to praise you. His way of talking dirty is to let you know how good you feel around him. How ethereal you are, how perfect for him, how you taste so sweet.

He encourages you as he pushes you over the limit. “Yes, yes, darling, you can take it. Cum for me,” he would say. He’d place a kiss on your open mouth as you convulse around him as he rips yet another orgasm out of you. “My sweet darling,” he would groan, wiping the sweat off your brow. “How perfect you are. Good girl.” And just like that, he’s about to do it all over again. RIP. 😫

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

He’s active and it shows. He’s well built without being overly bulky. It suits him—muscular/toned yet elegant and lean.

He’s packing a just-about-above average penis, but nothing you cannot handle. The man’s over six foot, it just fits.

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

Alucard is the type to yearn and pine, so set the volume level up cause he cannot get enough of you. Enough said.

Z: Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Sometimes you drift off to sleep together, but you usually fall asleep first.

He’s a night owl. He’d take you in his arms and stroke your hair as you sleep, admiring the way you glow under the moonlight, and wonder how he got so lucky to have found you. 🤍🌙

#if you disagree just scroll and let us have fun lmao #I’m not about to have another discourse on this #alucard #castlevania #alucarddear headcanons #adrian tepes #alucard fahrenheit tepes #Alucard x reader

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sharonccrter · 1 year ago

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I saw this really interesting video, which talked about my two biggest gripes with challengers' discourse. Which are that everyone keeps saying Art is the heart of this movie, and secondly, the insistence that Patrick doesn't love Tashi, only Art. The creator pushes back against these two narratives, and I wholeheartedly agree. Patrick is arguably the heart of this movie.

Two of the most important scenes in the movie are the churro scene and the scene between p/t out in the storm, and they both centre around Patrick.

The entire movie is about passion and purpose in life, and Patrick is the passion.

I mean, a lot of people assume Patrick didn't really have feelings for Tashi, but the only person who says that is Art. Who is vying for Tashi and is his biggest competitor. The reason I empathise with Patrick is that he is genuine and loving to Art; he does love him. However, we are shown no evidence to suggest that Patrick is this shitty boyfriend, apart from what Art says when he's trying to get into Tashi's head because his jealous. We find out that they're talking every week while he's on tour (normal relationship shit). It's Art who insinuates that Patrick is cheating while on tour. The only person in this movie who says Patrick doesn't love Tashi is Art, and it's obviously very intentional.

I think the reason both Tashi and Art push Patrick out of their lives is because he forces them to comfort parts of themselves they are not yet comfortable with. I mean, it's obvious why Tashi would react that way to Patrick; she's just lost the most important thing in her life. However, I think it's tragic from Patrick's point of view as well. I mean, what did Patrick really do? He got into a fight with his girlfriend because she hurt his feelings.

And no, he's hurt was not about Art. The fight made him feel unimportant, which made him feel like she didn't actually care about him. And that's where Art comes in, because who was going around telling Patrick Tashi didn't give a shit? You bet ya. Art. Art absolutely got into his head. And even if he clocked it, in that moment, he still allowed it to get to him because he was emotional and upset. And because he was too hurt to support her, he was thrown out of Tashi and Art's lives.

And here's the thing, Patrick never saw Tashi as an idea. He saw her as a real person, unlike Art kinda did. Patrick wasn't going to let Tashi treat him like shit just because she was special. And, tbh, if Tashi hadn't gotten injured, I think it's something she would have eventually been grateful for. But instead, she got hurt; she pushed Patrick away, and Art slid into his place, telling her that she could be his entire world and the star. That's not healthy, and sorry to stay a little manipulative.

And let's talk about Art. Patrick and him were literally fire and ice. They always had this underlying desire. They were perfect opposites. Let's face it: Art could never replicate what he had on the court (and off) with anyone else. But instead of confronting his feelings, he took the first chance he had to get Patrick out of his life.

The girl I was watching said it perfectly, "Art and Tashi allowed themselves to find consolation prizes in each other and allowed them to run from parts of themselves they didn't want to comfort and in turn enable each other's worst habits."

Art tries to become a tennis superstar so Tashi can live through him, and Tashi gives him a family so he can finally be confident in who he is. But is there any passion? I don't know; I think at some point, it drained; nothing about what I saw on screen apart from their initial get-together screams passion.

Cue Patrick walking back into their life and showing them how they can feel. Art was always going to let Tashi live through him, but that was never going to be satisfying for her. Tashi needs to find a way to create an identity for herself, separate from him. And I believe it'll be the only way she'll live a satisfying life. That's why they need Patrick: to make them realise that and to help them rediscover their passion.

I think people think that Art is the heart because Patrick admits to being a piece of shit. But the truth is, they're all dicks; Patrick was just the only one who was willing to admit it.

#challengers movie #challengers #patrick zweig #art donaldson #tashi duncan #josh o'connor #mike faist #zendaya

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bet-on-me-13 · 2 years ago

Text

Misunderstandings really really suck

Edit: Part 2 is Up

So heres the deal, it's a normal Vivisection AU where Danny had to run away to Gotham after his parents try to kill him, and let's say that he takes Ellie with him too.

They stay there for a few years and after a while they manage to establish a little life for themselves. Danny is running a small Shop that makes them enough money to live comfortably in the apartment right above his Shop, meanwhile Ellie is going to Gotham Metro Academy on a scholarship because she is really smart and they managed to fake some school records for her when they were making themselves new Identities.

(Side Note: Danny is now 26, while Ellie hasn't started aging yet and still looks 12, but she will begin to soon since she just hit her 12th birthday)

Danny also runs a small Ghost Shop out of his store, just selling small bits of Distilled Ectoplasm or Ecto-Infused Treats to the local Ghosts in return for small favors or help around the shop.

But here's the thing. Ellie is still an unstable Clone, even if they did managed to find a reliable treatment in the form of Ecto-Dejecto. But Danny's parents were the only ones who knew how to make that stuff, and the Ecto-Dejecto they stole all those years ago is beginning to run out.

Danny begins to work tirelessly trying to replicate it, diving full on into his Mad Scientist side to try and find a way to make more ED for Ellie. He manages to make some prototypes, but he is nowhere near confident that they are good enough.

He decides to call in some favors from the local Ghosts. He calls the ones he is confident will survive this and asks them to try out his Ecto Dejecto to see if it will work for Ellie, but he does warn them that there will probably be unexpected side effects that they will probably not like.

The Ghosts agree to do it, because in the years that the Fenton's have lived there they have grown extremely attached to Ellie. She is like a little sister or daughter for many of them, they would throw away their afterlives if it meant helping her.

For most of the samples, the ED doesn't work at all. Some of them work for a single moment before cutting out, others don't do anything, and some have crazy effects that affect them for a little while before disappearing abruptly. One guy turned into a Dog, not the worst outcome but not the intended one. Another began to glow brightly and couldn't turn it off, that one lasted for an hour.

They keep testing them, out in the nearby Alley since they don't want to destroy the house or Danny's makeshift Lab, for a few weeks.

They problem comes when they are spotted one night by Red Hood.

...

Jason was crossing the Rooftops while on Patrol. He was going a little farther than his normal patrol range, since he had the time and he wanted to make sure there was no trouble in the nearby areas either.

As he was about to hop from one rooftop to another, he got a weird feeling. It was strange, he didn't feel anything on his skin, he didn't smell anything, he didn't even hear anything, but he somehow knew that there was something strange happening in the nearby Alley. It was like he could sense it.

Peeking over the edge of the rooftop, he saw a group of about 10 people. It was a bunch of strange looking people with green-ish skin, and one normal looking person. The normal looking one was wearing a lab coat, and seemed to be about 25 yrs old. Jason felt like there was something off about that guy, but he couldn't place exactly what. He was holding a box of something in his hand, and talking to the group.

"Ok guys, I'm really confident this time!" He said, "I think one of these may be the one!"

The man placed the box on a nearby Dumpster and opened it up, taking out a strange glowing green Vial. He handed it to one of the Greenish people and watched as they injected themselves with it.

Jason watched as they began to glow slightly before their arms suddenly grew to be longer than they were tall. The Man in the Lab Coat sighed in discontent, before saying "Ok, not that one. But we still have a few to try out!"

Jason watched as one by one the people below injected themselves with the green Liquid, each of them having some strange phenomenon happen to them before moving on to the next. The strange thing was that none of them seemed to be concerned with the changes, just commenting on it felt before moving on.

Finally, they got to the last person in line. As they injected themselves, Jason felt a sense of Anticipation well up in his gut. He didn't know why, but he felt like this was going to he important.

He was proven right as the Man who had injected himself began to glow brightly. Jason was overwhelmed with the sense of Pure Power coming from him. It was intense, he didn't know how, but he could actually feel the man begin to grow stronger and stronger. The feeling was nearly suffocating, but he managed to regain his senses long enough to hear Lab Coat laugh maniacally. He looked over to see that the entire group was enthusiastically high-fiving and fist-bumping eachother, all cheering at the success.

"Hahaha! Yes! Finally!" Labcoat Cheered, "It's done! Once I make some more, we'll be able to-"

The overwhelming power suddenly cut out. It was so abrupt that even the people below didn't speak for some time. They all just stood on slight shock before Labcoat spoke up, "Ok...ok this is fine. All I need to do is take that formula and find a way to make the effect Permanent. After that we're all set." He said, a thoughtful expression on his face, "I think we'll be good to go within a Week!"

The group of people muttered in agreement, and Labcoat thanked them all for a bit before they all began to walk away. It seemed like the meeting was over.

Jason took a moment to collect himself, before deciding to follow some of the group so he could question them. Unfortunately, everybody he followed disappeared into thin air after a short time.

It occurred to him that he hadn't tried to intervene at all. Usually he would have jumped down and beaten them all black and blue for testing drugs right in front of him, but he didn't this time. Why? He also realized that he should have followed the Lab Coat guy first, not waited until it was his last option. Why did he not go after that guy instantly? Why did he hesitate? Was it something to do with that Ominous Feeling that led him to the meeting in the first place? There was just something about the guy that made Jason feel inexplicably sacred of him.

Either way, he needed to tell the others.

Because from what he had seen, a Mad Scientist had been working with a group of Metahumans to create a Super Soldier Drug right there in Gotham, and they needed to stop them.

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narcjsistx · 4 months ago

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𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄! | itoshi rin x fem reader

part ten: arcade || BAND AU, A BIT AGED UP

plot: after your band's last concert, a few days after Rin's, an online competition arises about who is the best bassist. A whole new challenge is created by the new fandom who loves you, but people don't know that you and the bassist of Blue Lock haven't spoken in about 3 years since you broke up, when you were sixteen

01 : PRESENT, TODAY

characters presentation here ; all the parts here

You still weren't completely convinced about this bet, not knowing Rin was about to arrive. How had he gone from ignoring you, almost completely, at the recording stage to asking you to gamble the concert date with a simple afternoon at the arcade?. You didn't know if Blue Lock knew anything, but ReAl knew absolutely nothing... what would happen if you lost?

You also didn't understand why he chose the arcade in particular. Well, actually you knew, but it had been years now, and he had admitted that he had changed completely compared to the Rin you knew. You had spent many afternoons locked in here, both with Sae and alone, when the bands hadn't yet been born. You were the poorest among the brothers, but while Sae never let you win, Rin did it on purpose; and you knew how much he hated losing. It was a special place for both, before the big breakup

"Hey" someone says, and you turn around recognizing the voice "Hey" you say greeting him, a little awkward and unsure of what to say, a feeling he's probably feeling now too "Shall we come in?" you ask, and he nods

The silence is replicated by the noise of the games in operation and by the words of the people, who in reality are not very many. It's a neighborhood arcade, it's never been so full, but you liked it that way at the time. Notice how some games you remembered have been removed, while others have been installed. But your favorite is still there, old and with dust, but there

“Do you want to start with something specific or…?” he says, and you think about it "How about we do the usual things we did as teens?" you ask, and he nods, making his way to an old pacman you two always used "Whoever wins here gets a point. Let's make it 3, okay?" he asks, and you nod, standing to the side of the game "Start"

The game begins, Rin concentrates like he did as a kid. It's almost funny to watch him struggle, like it's complicated. It reminds you a little of the face he always made when you were on the beach after Blue Lock rehearsals, but that's another story

“May I ask why you asked me this?” you ask, as he plays. He raises his gaze for a few seconds, then lowers it again to play "Another challenge between bass players would have been the last straw. This or another poll voted by people we don't even know, you decide" he says, and you roll your eyes in amusement "You have a point. In fact... you literally won. Lucky ass"

Rin relieves you, standing to the side while you start the game. Silence reigns supreme, but it's like there's so much you should talk about. Does Rin have a girlfriend?

"Isn't your girlfriend jealous?" you ask, and he doesn't even think about it "She's not" he says, but he seems a little perplexed by his own answer "You? Do you have a boyfriend that you're hiding from the public?" he asks, a little curious. He tries to hide it, but you've spent too much time with Rin Itoshi not to understand his intentions or ideas "No. Nothing is planned for now. I WON!"

“I understand" he says, sighing, but you don't know if it's a sigh of relief or not. You try to ignore it as you move on to the other game: Rin goes first, and again you finish in silence

"How's the band going?" you ask, and he hesitates a bit "We're fine. We work, the album just came out" he says "I know. I heard it" you say

You heard it, yes you heard it. And if it's true that he writes the songs, they all scream your name. Or maybe you're just making mental movies

"Good. With Sae?" he asks, and you know perfectly well that the brothers haven't spoken to each other for several years now "He's still my best friend. He's always there for me" you say, without even wanting to be offensive, but Rin seems to understand otherwise "At least one of the two Itoshi knows how to be close to you"

You are speechless, and Rin loses the game. If this was a dig, now you'll start too. Is he the one who put you in this situation, and he also pretends to look like the victim? or maybe you misunderstood what he meant?

Play your game in complete silence. You win, and Rin does nothing but observe you as you play and as you move towards the last game: you are tied, whoever wins this one wins the date. You start playing, and you win this game too. It's Rin's turn... and he wins too. And now?

"What do we do now?" you ask perplexed, alternating your gaze between the game and the boy, a short distance away from you. You see Rin thinking about something, but something tells you that he's not thinking about a solution, but something else; he's distracted, unusual for someone like him. Or perhaps this is also a part of his new being, who knows

You see him approaching, but you think it's to go and see the score of the game, to see who has scored more points between the two

But you find yourself randomly with his hand on your hip and his lips pressed to yours, in a kiss

TAGLIST: @x3nafix ; @kittenish0 ; @littlejapanesesightseeingtrip ; @pan-kojiwa ; @pookalicious-hq ; @kaz-0e ; @sof888a ; @chugging-bleach ; @matchablossomsss ; @lovelymeguru ; @thebestsetter ; @yamsverse ; @princesssae ; @yuukigyatgyat ; @azharyy ; @rwbie ; @bubybubsters ; @swagkittybear ; @syarc0re ; @rink1sser ; @frogsrules ; @hwaassaa ; @chuuyalvover

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fanged-fanfics · 4 months ago

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Hi! 👋 Can I request optimus prime HCs from Transformers One with a Cybertronian![S/O] [gender neutral] [Romantic] who is the reincarnation of one of the primes? specifically Solus prime

☆ I Know That Face — Optimus Prime x GN Reader HCs ☆

Genre: Fluff || they/them pronouns for reader || No warnings needed

──────.𖥔 ݁ ˖˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ──────

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Gathering the Matrix of Leadership had been a surreal experience for Orion. Hearing the voices of the deceased, feeling the blessings of the Primes swarm his circuits with energy and the new title he'd been bestowed. He always knew their influence was in everything, but you seemed particularly familair..

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Your frame wasn't exact, the build being different and colors not matching either. But something about your faceplates, your optics, even your voice— everything called to mind something he'd known before

ᯓᡣ𐭩 He pieced it together after a long time of thinking, when seeing you after one of his dreams containing the voices of the original 13 speaking to him happened. You brought to mind Solus Prime

ᯓᡣ𐭩 He tried to ask you subtly if you knew anything about the Primes, but you only knew about as much as the average mech did. Optimus accepted that, but couldn't help but make the mental comparisons

ᯓᡣ𐭩 You were clever, had a knack for forging weapons, and proved your resilience time and time again, all things that were said to be done by Solus. He couldn't help but note whenever you did something that reminded him of the late Prime

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Eventually, Optimus tried to put the similarities out of his processor. It wasn't fair to hold you to the standards of Solus. Everyone was trying to uphold the value of the Primes' legacies, and you, like him, were just another bot trying to make your way

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Once he got to know you more, he relaxed a greater degree. He was able to get closer to you and see you for yourself, someone who he learned he wanted to spend as much time with as possible

ᯓᡣ𐭩 He might still make occasional comparisons here or there, but he reassures you at the end of the day that all Cybertronians are reflections of the Primes, as they're the first bots from Primus. He knows you as you are, and doesn't expect a replication of Solus from you. All he wants is you to be yourself, and carry the knowledge that you remind mechs of one of the 13s as motivation and pride

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cherryheairt · 3 months ago

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Butterflies

req: Is it ok of I request a dae-ho x f!reader? The reader is softhearted and cares for people a lot! The reader doesn't like being in the center of attention which Dae-Ho understands. Dae-Ho mentions that in high school he never got courted or anything, girls would give origami things to their crushes but Dae-Ho never got anything. So after hearing this, reader buys and makes a lot of gifts for him. Origami flowers, a keychain or two, matching bracelets, basically reader just spoils Dae-Ho :D

just a cute lil Dae-ho one-shot for the evening <3

Or, three times you ‘confessed’ to Dae-ho and one time he confessed to you?

“Never?” You asked in a hushed tone, mouth agape at the new information. Your latte and strawberry shortcake sat in front of you, completely untouched as you were indulging in the conversation.

“Nope.” Dae-ho replied, running a hand through his loosened hair bashfully. He had a slight flush to his pale skin, embarrassed at the admission. “I've never had a girlfriend. Or—for that matter—had a girl confess to me.”

Dae-ho was, without a doubt, your best friend. You'd known him since you graduated university and he had recently ‘retired’ from the Marines. Even with the slight age gap, you couldn't help but gain a true friendship (and even truer feelings) with the kind-hearted soul. He was a gentleman despite the stereotypical Marine military man career and took care of the people around him, namely his sisters and his many nieces and nephews.

He was a good person, simply put. And you firmly believed all people should be treated the way that they treat others. It seemed that Dae-ho, for all of his hardships either with the Marines or his father, was never deterred by the bad in life and instead was the antithesis of toxic masculinity and all those associated.

“We'll fix that.” You nodded firmly, the vague words earning a confused squint from Dae-ho as you finally took a bite of your cake.

“What do you mean?” He asked. “Fix what?”

You ignored his lost puppy-dog look, moaning at the flavor burst in your mouth. “Mm! Try this, Dae!” Using your own fork you brought the bite of cake to his lips, unaware of his cheeks growing ever deeper in that rosy shade at the intimacy of your actions.

He tentatively took the bite in, nodding in satisfaction when you raised a brow for his critique. “It's good. Want some of my lemon cake?” He offered with a shy smile.

Your fingers had long grown numb during your day's activity. Since hearing Dae-ho's saddened confession about never getting to experience that high school romance that most people did, you were making it your newest goal to replicate such an experience for him.

Your bed was littered with misshapen paper swans, hearts, boats, and even some little figurine-like people. In all your attempts, you found that making origami was a lot more difficult than it looked. You poured over tutorials since you had gotten the proper paper for folding, but still had no skill despite the repetitive step-by-step instructions. The pain in your back increased every minute you hunched over the tablet, but you knew the results would be worth the pain.

Finally, after a few (hundred) more attempts and no more paper from your packets, you were happy with how a singular swan turned out. In a pleasant shade of light yellow, his favorite color, you could admit the little paper bird was quite cute.

Now your only problem was delivery. In high school it was simple to deliver origami confessions to your classmates because of mutual friends or lockers. Now, you were both grown adults with your own apartments.

However, you did have each other's house keys in case of any emergencies. Grabbing your bag, you headed out to his apartment, rushing to get in and out before he could get home from babysitting his nephews for their weekend soccer game.

Settling the little swan onto his kitchen table, you left a small scribbled sticky note right in front of it before leaving his space before you could get too embarrassed and second guess your decision.

‘it wasn't until I found you, that I discovered I was missing something in my life.’

The next time you saw Dae-ho, it was for your monthly ‘friend dates’. He didn't mention the swan nor the letter, but a light pink dusting his cheeks when the weather was perfectly sunny and breezy told you everything. He smiled with a little wider upon seeing you meet up with him, this time in front of a botanical garden.

“Ready?” He asked, holding up two pre-bought tickets and his arm out for you to take. You did, grateful for the warmth despite the air not biting at you.

“Of course.” You said eagerly. “I've been looking forward to this all week.”

He laughed, and you entered the double-doors twice before finally being in the main building. It was partly an outdoor exhibit and partly a massive two-story greenhouse. You'd heard it was home to a beautiful butterfly sanctuary from the online pamphlet—the reason you suggested it in the first place.

You both ‘ooed’ and ‘awed’ at the unique array of plants and flowers along winding paths, giggling together discreetly when watching someone fall face-first into a lush bush that had a root sticking up near it. You sped walked away in sync when their friend turned to glare at the both of you, holding your laughs all the while.

At the entrance to the greenhouse, you felt giddy with anticipation. It wasn't quite as crowded as you expected, and you felt quite fortunate at the luck.

Dae-ho opened the doors for you, sighing at the relieving breeze the small double entrance gave you to keep the butterflies from escaping. Your jaw dropped at the sights, staring in awe at the fluttering wings and vibrant colors of the flora.

It had to be hundreds—or thousands—of bugs surrounding you in just one greenhouse. You slowly ambled up the path to the upstairs, careful not to step on any walking butterflies on the trail and stopping occasionally to gawk at one eating or drinking.

When you reached the top, a little itch on your shoulder stopped you and you carefully looked to see a gigantic blue-winged butterfly perched on your shoulder. “Look, Dae-ho,” you whispered, turning to see him absolutely covered in the pretty bugs, too. Some on his hair, face, and perched over his jacket while his arms were held completely still out.

You broke out into a light laughter, grabbing your phone to take a picture of the sight. New lockscreen, secured.

He, on the other hand, was not so amused. His voice almost quivered as he whispered like the bugs might form an army to attack if he displeased them. “What do I do?”

You shrugged, not offering any help. “You have to live here now.”

His eyes widened dramatically as he whined out your name. “Come on! I can't stay here forever!”

You only laughed at his pain, approaching him and his small army before carefully lifting each one onto your finger and transferring them to a branch or leaf. “You're just too sweet.”

Dae-ho chuckled, feeling lighter now that they were all off. “I think they feel the same about you, too.”

Confused, you tried to scour your limbs for any butterflies only to see none. “Where?”

He covered his mouth with a hand, pointing up and down to your entire backside. “We're gonna be here for a while.”

At last, after possibly hours of continuously removing bugs from each other and having to maneuver around all the rest, you escaped the sanctuary. Hands on your knees, you breathed a sigh of relief. “I thought we'd never escape.”

It was already well into the afternoon and approaching evening, though that didn't bother either of you. As you walked to exit, you perked up. “There's a gift shop.”

“Let's have a look?” Dae-ho suggested with bright eyes that couldn't be refused.

After separately window shopping a bit, you couldn't take your eyes off of a pair of matching butterfly keychains. One a vibrant blue and the other a soft yellow. Out of sight from Dae-ho, you snuck to the cash register and quickly paid, thanking the cashier and meeting your best friend outside.

“I didn't see anything, did you?”

Proudly showing your find off, you held the little cardboard piece with the matching accessories. “Take your pick.”

He looked taken aback, holding the chains between his thumb and index and inspecting them. “I didn't see these, how cute!” He said, brows knitting together thoughtfully. “You should take the yellow.”

That surprised you. “But that's your favorite color.”

Unhooking them from the cardboard, he handed you the yellow. “Yellow looks good on you.” He said, and you felt your face get warm at the compliment.

You both latched your respective colors to your keychains, admiring them together.

You don't exactly remember how, but your once free weekend was now entirely consumed by Dae-ho's third sister's daughters. She was the second youngest of the siblings and the one with the youngest kids—a new mom, if you please. She and her husband went on a spontaneous staycation to some resort by the beach, meanwhile Dae-ho (being the only one of his siblings with no children) was stuck watching them.

Ergo, so were you. You couldn't leave the poor man with the triplet nieces in your good conscience, so you volunteered your valuable time to stay over for the weekend.

Currently, Na-mi was pulling at Dae-ho's long hair and attempting to braid it like her mother often did for her, while Naree was in front of Dae-ho and getting her hair braided by him. A little train of braids where you were glad to be excluded, seeing the hidden winces that your friend smiled through when a particularly hard tug burned his scalp.

Nabi was sitting calmly with you at the coffee table, humming along to her favorite cartoon while you made bracelets together.

Or, more accurately, you slaved over the bracelets while she dictated what she wanted them to look like.

Blue and pink for herself first, obviously. That one was already done and on her wrist as she twisted and turned it. You silently prayed for her to forget about it soon so no beads would go flying all over Dae-ho's apartment.

Yellow and green for Naree.

White and purple for Na-mi.

And when you finally finished the triplet's bracelets, hands sore from the thorough beading, she moved on to demanding two more.

“Two?” You asked. “There's only three of you.”

“For Auntie and Uncle!” She insisted through a squeal.

You giggled along, asking what colors would best suit you and Dae-ho. You were long since dubbed as ‘Auntie’ by all of Dae-ho's nieces and nephews, despite not being in a relationship with their blood uncle.

“Hold still, Naree.” Dae-ho chided gently, the squirming girl’s hair coming loose from its intricate braids atop her head.

“It hurtsss,” She complained, throwing her head back to look at her uncle upside-down. He bopped her nose playfully, moving her head back upright.

“You don't see me complaining, and I'm sure it hurts for me more than you.” He played along childishly, laughing when Nabi scolded him and smacked him atop the head for insulting her skills.

After Nabi had sorted through the colored beads for a while, she finally pulled out the two simple colors she picked. “Yellow and blue!”

“For me or for Dae-ho?” You asked, already threading the alternating colors as she asked.

She didn't answer, simply standing up and running to the kitchen. Bemused, you shared a glance with Dae-ho before shrugging and going back to your full-time job.

By the time an adult sized bracelet was made, she was back. Panting, she held out your keychain (where she found it, you had no clue) and Dae-ho's. “See!” She exclaimed. “You are yellow and he is blue.”

“Shouldn't I make mine just yellow, then?”

“No!” She shouted passionately. Taken aback, you nodded at her request. By the time you finished both matching bracelets, she smiled almost mischievously before tugging one onto your wrist and the other onto Dae-ho's who had finally completed Naree's dutch braids.

“You both have to match.” The girl said vehemently, satisfied at the wrists you held together at her command. Just like a little empress, Nabi had moved on from the topic the moment her subjects bored her. “Can you make me mac-and-cheese?”

“Ohh, me too!”Na-mi raised her hand from Dae-ho's hair, moving on at the mention of lunch.

“And me!” Naree insisted after her sisters.

You and Dae-ho moved to the kitchen, letting the triplets settle in front of the TV while you made lunch.

He hummed at the bracelet on his wrist, twisting it briefly while the water boiled. “Yellow and blue?”

“Apparently you're blue, and I'm yellow.” You answered.

He stared at your own wrist for a lingering moment. “I like that. Always together.” He seemed to say the words to himself more than to you.

The thoughtless words did make you think for a moment. Dae-ho's family, namely his mother, sisters, and their children, all had accepted you as part of their family a long time ago. Like you were Dae-ho's girlfriend—and not his friend. The acceptance made you happy, yes, but it also got you thinking about how you truly did want to be his girlfriend.

You did do all the things he said he never got to experience, after all. The unsaid and subtle confession with the origami, the matching keychains, being ‘Auntie’ while he was ‘Uncle’.

What if he simply didn't feel the same and you were pushing it? If you pushed too hard and he didn't reciprocate, he would find you too clingy and distance himself from you.

You'd rather have your feelings cast deep down rather than lose him entirely.

Your name was spoken softly behind you, Dae-ho's hand gently on your shoulder. “Are you feeling okay? Are the girls overwhelming you?”

“No, not at all.” You insisted. “They're angels.”

He laughed, agreeing with a shrug. “When they want something.”

“What are we doing for lunch?” You changed the subject. “More mac?”

He shook his head, waving your idea off. “I'll make us some chicken.”

You both went about your separate cooking, activity buzzing pleasantly throughout the apartment as everyone went about their tasks. Conversation was flowing and easy, and it was never too loud or too quiet as you polished off meals at the dining table altogether.

“Thank you, Auntie and Uncle!” The three seemed to say in sync.

Dae-ho was bashful as he waved off their thanks. “It's nothing. We're glad you guys finished your plates.”

Winded down from the day's activities, you and Dae-ho were sat together on the couch between the three girls. One was on each of your sides and another on your laps sprawled out. Squished together, you and Dae-ho leaned into each other naturally as snores started to fill the room. Naree and Na-mi were dead asleep on either side, pushing you both further together. On your laps, Nabi was still awake, albeit sleepy.

“When are you getting married?”

The sleepy and clueless voice startled both of you out of your own dazes. You looked at Dae-ho, who looked at you with equal shock.

“What do you mean, Nabi?” He asked, sitting up.

“Mommy said you two will be married soon. Can I be the flower girl?”

“Eun-joo…” he grumbled out, rubbing his palms over his eyes. “Sorry, Nabi, but we can't get married.”

“Why not?” She cried out, suddenly wide awake.

You laughed softly at her reaction. “To get married, you have to be dating first.” You simplified. “Dae-ho and I aren't dating—”

“Yes you are!” She insisted again. “You're just like mommy and daddy. They're always together, they take care of us, they make us food.”

“That's just taking care of you because we love you.” Dae-ho patted her hair down to soothe. “Dating is different.”

Nabi groaned. “So you don't love each other?”

“Ah—” He stammered, looking at you.

“Of course we do.” You said easily. His stare bore into the side of your face, but you ignored it.

“So you're getting married?” She asked, smug. Suddenly, you realized the hidden cleverness of these little girls.

You stood up in a heroic swoop, throwing Nabi over you shoulder while she giggled, all too distracted to continue speaking. “I think its time for bed, your mom will eat us up if she comes home to a grumpy Nabi!”

“Noo, wait!” She squealed out in laughter as you ran to the spare bedroom with the premade air mattresses. Dae-ho, much calmer than you, shuffled his way in with a child on each arm, somehow managing to not wake either up.

Nabi finally caved into her tiredness after the adrenaline rush wore off, settling onto her pink sheets and nearly passing out with the background noise you put on.

You and Dae-ho slumped together on the couch, wore out from the energy of the children and the day itself. “Thank you for helping me.” He mumbled, looking at you through bleary brown eyes.

“Of course. You know I love your family.”

Against your shoulder, he tensed and stayed silent.

“Dae?” You asked.

He stands suddenly, startling you. “You can take my bed. I'll take the couch—”

“Dae-ho!” You say again, squinting up at him and not budging from the couch. “What did I do?”

“Nothing!” He defends quickly, shaking his head. “I'm tired, I know you are too.”

“That's not why you panicked. Is this because I said that I love you?”

He stares at you for a minute. The silence feels impossibly thick and heavy. He swallows visibly and you cringe, waiting for him to say how uncomfortable you made him.

“Do you?”

“Do I…?”

“Love me?”

It's your turn to be quiet now.

“All these things you've been doing since I told you about never having a girlfriend.” He starts. “Is it because you felt bad for me?”

“What?” You say, offended. “No! Why would I do that?”

“So why are you doing it? Why do you stick around with me when you know any man you get with wouldn't let us be friends?”

“I don't want to be just your friend.” You blurted out, tired of beating around the proverbial bush.

He blinks.

Once.

Twice.

Then, “you like me?”

“I love you.”

This idiot.

“Love me?”

“I wouldn't babysit the triplet nieces of a man I didn't love.” You said humorously. No sane person would, either.

“For how long?”

“A few months after we met.” Your answer was quieter this time. “When you introduced me to your mother and she was going on and on about how you always talked about me—”

“Okay, okay.” He put his hands up to stop you, then ran his fingers through his hair.

“I love you, too.” He said finally.

“So, when do we get married so Nabi can be our flower girl?” You broke the tension, laughing at his paled face.

“Let me take you on a date, first, okay?” He huffed, settling beside you again as you settled into his chest.

“We've been on a hundred dates.”

“A formal one, then. Then, we'll see about weddings.”

You snuggled closer, breathing in his light cologne and musk. “I like that.”

The butterfly sanctuary is based off a real place I visited a few times as a kid. Don't even remember where it was but it was absolutely amazing—just a bit crowded

originally was gonna end this with no confession and dae ho going MIA because of the squid games so

#dae ho #dae ho squid game #dae ho x reader #squid games #squid games x reader #dae ho imagine #fanfiction #squid game fanfic

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ulteri0rm0tives · 19 days ago

Text

Okay so. I think Johnny just deals with chronic pain in general due to the arm. I've written a whole draft abt it, j some headcanons I have for the arm that maybe I'll get around to posting sometime, it explores this more, but. For now.

I'm stuck between Johnny having lost of sensation in that shoulder or his shoulder being the most sore thing known to man.

Like one hand, it's an interesting thought that it largely just feels numb for a few reasons. Skin there is synthetic, I'm sure some muscle got destroyed and replaced, and also to replicate nerve damage. Which, to an extent, I'm sure he does have nerve damage, but I also think Arasaka would put some effort into maybe adding synthetic nerve receptors/replicators, not out of consideration or for the purpose to necessarily improve quality of life for their patients, but for the purpose of it being new tech they can develop and, gonna be so honest, test on people with 'justification'. But for the most part, it's largely numb, or the receptors feel through such a muffled filter, making so it's that lost of sensation. Touch feeling like skimming the surface but unable to go beneath the water. And the soreness is still there, like a faded memory almost, but he's gotten so used to it being layered under this numbness it just becomes a part of him, something he rarely notices until it makes itself known in however way it does.

But there's also. The thought of how fucking blisteringly sore it might be. That some days it's not as bad, but other days it does feel as raw as it did when he first got it. How overworked and tense and tight his muscles must be to overcompensate for the weight of an inorganic arm that was attached to a kid who was still growing. Like. As someone who does deal with back and shoulder pain, and tense muscles due to that, apply any amount of pressure there and despite how very brave I'm being about it, chances are a tear is being shed. I'm wincing and feeling that pain reverberate deep for a WHILE, wishing I never scratched that itch in the first place.

(little related sidenote below)

Which, if it is blisteringly sore, it also makes think about how I already don't think he likes when people (especially people he ain't close with like that (considering this especially with the fact he doesn't really let himself get close to people like that 💀)) touch that arm a lot, but now especially the shoulder, because, firstly, wow just a feather falling on it for more than 10 seconds fucking hurts whyyyy tf would he want that, but also fuuuuck if he's gonna let people see him double over clutching it for a good solid five minutes trying to also be very brave about it and NOT shed a tear in front of them.

#thinking abt the character while making breakfast v.2 #(almost burnt my eggs 4 this)#i heart recognizing johnny as a disabled character who is in fact hindered by his disability #then just some 'really hot guy with a badass cool arm for killing and shredding >:)'#(not to say he aint hot but. yall get what i mean (hopefully))#mmm main tag shit? maybe?#cyberpunk 2077 #johnny silverhand #personal headcanons 4 johnny silverhand #ult speaking

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heartz4levi · 2 months ago

Note

HIIIII ILOVE UR WRITING SM OML I CANNOT THANK U ENOUGH... just a suggestion but would u be interested in doing a ivan x reader nsfw alphabet?? preferably fem reader or gn,, if thats okay!! Have a great day/ night <3

can't find, my all, your soul, i need !

☆ thinking abt ivan + nsfw alphabet . . .

☆ ivan (alnst) ,, fem reader . . the dom/sub dynamic switches at random intervals ,, guess what i'm doing.. pushing the freak ivan agenda ,, lots of sex talk ,, lots of kink talk also.

a — aftercare :

absolute king of pillow talk. will clean the both of you up, provide food and water is needed, the bare minimum really.

but the pillow talk is unmatched. the gossip goes crazy, whether ivan is the one delivering the news or is the one listening to the latest drama you've heard.

b — body part :

ivan likes his eyes. there's a certain mischievous charm in them, one that's hard to replicate, which only adds on to how much he appreicated them.

not a body part, but ivan adores your smile. he can't pick just one part of your body that he loves more than the rest, but something that enchants him a considerable amount is your smile, something he strives to keep on your face for as long as possible.

c — cum :

ivan's cum is thick and sticky. the taste doesn't have any particularly dominating note to it.

always coming in fat globs, ivan likes to paint either your tongue or your cunt white. not the inside. he likes cumming inside too, of course, but there's something about tainting your body with his cum that gets him going, in an odd way.

d — dirty secret :

not really a secret since he did bring the idea up before. ivan is curious and really wants to know how it'd feel like to be used by you.

he's talking toying with him for your own pleasure, unleashing a never before seen sadistic side, torturing him sexually and not showing even an ounce of care for his personal needs.

e — experience :

not a virgin, but also not a total whore.

ivan has slept with a few people before, just enough to know what he's doing by the time he ends up in your bed. and he's well—versed in a lot of kinks, considering how experimental he is.

f — favourite position :

ivan likes to fold you in some of the most foul positions, but doggystyle takes the cake. a certain kind of doggy though.

yeah, the generic doggystyle position is good, but he likes it best when there's a mirror and you're facing it, staring at your own fucked—out expression. always ends up pulling you up, your back flush against his chest to reach even deeper inside of you.

g — goofy :

ivan is never completely serious during sex, but he isn't actively trying to make you laugh either. he's more so just actively teasing you.

however he'd be quite amused if you tried making him laugh mid—sex, as if he wasn't literally going to town on your poor cunt.

h — hair :

nicely groomed. is not against the idea of waxing, but doesn't feel obligated to do it.

as for his partner, ivan just wants someone who prioritizes their hygiene, doesn't mean that your pussy has to be completely bare. fuck it, let it grow out, so long as it's not contagious he'll still hit.

i — intimacy :

can be very, very romantic at times.

but, being the versatile man he is, ivan can also treat you as if you're nothing but a sex toy. however a small part, deep down inside of him, yearns to be gentle. to love you, to worship you, to handle you like you're a sacred treasure.

top tier deep, slow strokes.

j — jack off :

ivan jacks off a regular amount. doesn't practice abstinence but doesn't get off to something every day.

he likes to prolong his sessions though, edging himself on purpose and making it all the more painful so that the eventual climax he will have will make him ascend spiritually.

k — kink :

a whole entourage of kinks. is into so many things, more than you can count on two hands.

ivan does quite like bondage tho and isn't aversed to being tied up himself. he likes the feeling of helplessness that comes with being restrained but takes just as much pleasure in the sensation of control that comes with having you tied up, at his mercy.

l — location :

like previously mentioned, a total freak. ivan is open to taking you during any time of day, at any location.

in public? sure, let the people nearby watch. in a secluded alley? sure, don't cover your mouth though. at home? has bent you over every existing surface.

m — motivation :

ivan enjoys playful banter with you. he encourages you to engage in it with him, to not be afraid of some unserious bickering.

sass—mouthing is a completely different thing. he still encourages it, just not as blatantly. he subtly adds fuel to the fire that is your sassiness, wanting you to strike the right nerve that'll allow him to put you in your rightful place.

n — no :

ivan likes boasting to others, speaks your praises in the midst of conversations with friends and acquaintances, shows you off at every given opportunity.

but ivan isn't fond of sharing. not because he's possessive, but because he doesn't want your eyes to wander elsewhere, as he is afraid that one slip—up on his part will be enough for you to lose interest in him.

o — oral :

absolute beast at oral. knows how to put that tongue to use like no other. it takes such a long time for his jaw to start hurting and even then he keeps going.

ivan is quite fond of receiving oral too. he doesn't have a favourite when it comes to giving or receiving, but the sight of you on your knees, taking all of him into your mouth while slick begins to coat your thighs definitely awakens something with him.

p — pace :

ivan's default pace always manages to knock all of the air in your lungs right out. he gives you plenty of time to adjust to the stretch of his cock, starts out slow at first, but before you know it he's already jackhammering into your cunt.

try to keep up with him, you can't. however it will be entertaining for him to watch you try and meet his thrusts halfway, ultimately giving up once you realize that your efforts are useless.

q — quickie :

always scowls at the mentions of quickies. but it's not like he can really take his time in public or semi—public spaces, no?

technically he can, but.. yeah, no. prefers to slowly pick you apart piece by piece, dumbing you down with each orgasm that washes over you.

r — risk :

his freak tendencies go hand in hand with the love he has for taking a good risk. ivan simply cannot deny a rush of adrenaline, the overwhelming thrill that courses through his body each time he makes a questionable decision.

s — stamina :

ivan has good stamina. not including foreplay, he can go for about four rounds before his stamina starts to deplete.

sometimes though, maybe on particularly stressful days or when he's a lot needier for you, could go at it until the sun rises. not even exaggerating.

t — toys :

ivan does actually own a few toys. he likes using them on himself and is always open to trying new ones.

similarly to how he likes to use them on you, as well. started off with the classic vibrator and ball gag, will ask you to try sounding with him when you get more used to implementing toys in the bedroom experience.

u — unfair :

such a tease it's unbearable. takes pleasure in bullying you to see the plethora of emotions that swirl within your eyes, enjoys controlling your orgasms to watch you thrash around whenever he denies you of yet another one.

v — volume :

ivan is vocal and not afraid to hide a single sound that comes out of his mouth.

moans and whines. moans. if it's not right in your ear, then it's loud and lewd enough for the neighbors to hear.

w — wild card :

at some point you can't pinpoint the exact start of after becoming sexually active with ivan, nothing surprised you anymore when it came to sex.

ivan as a whole is a wild card. are you surprised? no. you've gotten used to him and his interesting preferences by now. as you should!

x — xray :

ivan's cock is long, a little thick. veiny and it curves a tad. the head always leaks so much pre whenever he's really aroused.

if you tease him, you will feel his cock twitch and/or jump. palm him through his pants and you'll feel his cock straining against the fabric, slap it and watch little spurts of cum ooze out of the tip.

y — yearning :

ivan is pretty much always down to get into your pants.

that doesn't mean he's constantly asking to have sex, it just means that he rarely ever denies you. his self—restraint is surprisingly good.

z — zzz :

never falls asleep before you do. the pillow talk keeps him up, not in the haunting him long after you've dozed off way, but in the he's so invested he needs to know more asap way.

#⠀⠀⠀⠀Ꮺ heartz4ivan #alien stage #alnst #alnst x reader #alnst smut #ivan alien stage #ivan alnst #ivan alien stage x reader #ivan alnst x reader #ivan alien stage smut #ivan alnst smut

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nishloves · 10 months ago

Text

unholy; gojo satoru

art credits : tw @/_3aem

smut drabble | pet names, cum play, raw sex | words : 750 (approx.)

synopsis : you couldn't wait anymore, so you did what any maiden would— touch yourself... you shouldn't have.

"fuuck pretty girl, just like that, eh?" his words were murmured whispers against your skin, his breath tantalizing as his lips trailed across your neck, to your collarbone, to your shoulder, his hand pushing your body in the mattress, your cunt fluttering around his dick as his fingers played with your folds, his movements slow— steady and eerily fulfilling.

his thumb smeared the pearly white liquid across your lips, not forgetting the favour you had done for him as he grunted, snapping his hips upwards, making you moan, hitting the perfect gooey spot, your toes curling— gasping for air—

"filthy princess, couldn't wait f'yer boyfriend, hmm? trying to please yourself with those pretty little dainty fingers—"

snap

"could ya even feel it? could this—" he smacks his lips, spit trickling down your clitoris as he chuckled, his voice deeper, "— could this selfish pretty cunt be satisfied with it? you thought? hmm?"

snap

"what a brat, have i spoiled you too much?" he whispers, his movements slowing down again, making you whine, making you feel his length— inch by inch as he pulled his dick from your gripping walls, his hand tugged around your hair as he pushed in back with ravageous speed, his hips buckling into you like a savage.

"just look at y'er cunt, it's gripping me like it doesn't wanta let me go," he slurred, "such a selfish little thing. and you thought you could satisfy it?" he groaned softly, his hand cupping almost half of your face, as his thumb angled itself below your chin, pushing your jaw up to reveal your gulping neck.

"thought you could please yourself and I wouldn't find out?"

you moaned, tears pricking your eyes as you grappled at his shoulders, your nails burning soft crescents on his immaculate skin— breaking it, marking it.

he leaned down to bite on your neck— bruising a hickey on your soft skin— marking his territory, his pace unrelenting, his thirst unquenched as he involuntarily moaned against your skin, your body bestowing him with pleasure he swears he can't replicate anywhere, with anyone.

he gripped one of your thighs, pushing it up to your chest so that he could see the way your pussy clenched around him greedily, white trickles of cum spilling from your folds as he parted the skin, his gaze darkening as he inspects your pussy, about how deep his cum has been pushed in.

"'ts too much—" you gasped, hazy from the sex— hazy from how many times he had made you cum and cummed into you— the last you counted was five.

"oh really? it's too much now?" satoru laughed, "apparently not too much if yer pretty head thought your fingers could replace me."

"d-didn't mean to 'toru— hic—"

"surely you didn't," his fingers tapped your mound, "but gotta teach your pretty pussy a lesson about who she belongs to hmm?" he said, pulling out as he slammed into you again, making sure to morph your womb into the shape of his dick, filling you up with his cum so that it stays in for days, make you so filthy— so ruined that your sweet pussy can't recognise no one else.

you gasped as you felt him push both your thighs up, your shoulders digging into the mattress now that satoru's hand wasn't supporting you, he pulled out, his angry tip brushing against your glistening folds, smearing the pre-cum while he angled himself to reach deeper into you— one, two, three— pushing in— making you scream as you desperately held onto his forearms, his praises, his degradation, his mutterings lost over you as your eyes rolled back.

"ngh— please please please- don't- don't stop," you found yourself chanting, vaguely hearing satoru's deep- husky and mocking laughs.

your eyes tearing up as you came again— gasping for air— trying to breathe as you felt his fingers gently card a stray strand of your hair behind your ear, his touch gentle, caressing your face as you tried to steady yourself— it should be enough now— but all you heard was his mocking laugh,

"aww baby, don't get all tired up on me now, the night's just getting started."

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