#MIGHT FUCK AROUND & DRAW THEM DIFFERENTLY AFTER THIS who knows

[risingsunresistance]

twitter is entering their "rts > likes" phase now that likes are private after they spent years calling us ungrateful for being demotivated by ratios lmao

[emphistic]

Greedy

A/N: requested by @charbunxxi — i did something a little different, lmk if you would rather me repost a more accurate version to your request

The first thing Sukuna thought about after getting off his shift was you. You were the only thing he thought of while working, too. And, on the drive home, he almost crashed his car due to the fact that you were the only thing on his mind.

Some might say he's obsessive. Some might say he's deranged. Some might say he's a man deserving of nothing.

But then there's you, who says he's just a man in love.

He's a man who makes you breakfast and coffee — the way you like it. He's a man who draws you baths and washes your hair. He's a man who carries your bags after having gone shopping — with his card, obviously. He's a man who arrives at the apartment and — even then, still looks for home. He's a man who looks for you.

However, this time — unlike all other times, after slipping off his footwear and coat, he is unable to find you.

Maybe you were taking a shower? No. Maybe you were watching TV in the living room? Nope. Maybe you were doing laundry? Not even close.

When Sukuna finally succeeded in his search for you in your shared bedroom, he facepalmed. "'m so fuckin' stupid," he grunts out, as he crawls into bed.

You had fallen asleep while trying — but failing — to stay up in order to greet Sukuna after he returned home from work; but, he had had a longer shift than usual, and forgot to tell you.

He didn't mean to wake you. After all, it's not his fault that your pet cat just had to let out the world's loudest meow, announcing his arrival.

"You've got to be kidding me," he whispered, glaring at the little nuisance laying in the bed, cuddled up in your loving arms. The loving arms where he should be, not some ugly, good-for-nothing feline.

"My bad, baby. Swear, didn't mean to wake you—" He goes in to place a kiss on your cheek, but you simultaneously swerve away from him.

"No," you softly whine, shoving your head into the pillow.

"The fuck you mean 'no'? You seriously gonna deprive me of my well deserved kiss? After working a twelve hour shift?"

"No kisses." You mumble, your voice muffled.

Sukuna blinked at you, once, twice, thrice, until he finally concluded that you weren't just fucking around with him, and you were actually denying him of something totally essential to his well-being.

How was he meant to go on without your kisses? How would he live, breathe, eat, sleep, without your affection?

He tried to remove you from the pillow, but you instantly shoved your face back. "Noo."

"Sweetheart, I love you, y'know that already. And I wouldn't force you to do anything against your will. But, you don't understand, baby. What you're doing is completely and utterly cruel. This is wrong, on so many levels." He tried, again, to peel your face away from the pillow. And he succeeded, this time. But this time, you had a nasty pout on your face.

"You wanna know what's cruel? The fact you haven't showered, and yet, still have the audacity to crawl into bed. I'll have you know, I just replaced the bedsheets, and now here you are — dirtying them up."

"Babe, please—" He started.

"You are stinking up the whole goddamn apartment, Sukuna."

"You don't gotta be this way. We can talk it out."

"Sukuna—"

"C'mon, pretty girl. Just one? For little ol' me?"

You grumbled, but complied, albeit begrudgingly. "Fine, only one. But you have to take a shower after—mmph!"

Sukuna grabbed your face in his hands and tackled you down onto the bed, smashing his lips against yours so zealously that even the cat jumped out of your arms and off the bed.

-

It, indeed, was not just one kiss. But, it wasn't a total loss. Sukuna did end up taking that shower. And he gave you a reason to, as well.

Taglist: @beyond-your-stars @sad-darksoul @mochimoee @r0ckst4rjk @lillycore @deepchromatose @yinyinyinyinyinyin @fivehoneyharg @desihopelessromantic @taiyakii @hannas16 @acroso @msvalsius @call-memissbrightside @kelerina-ballerina @emikokomura

[lowkeyremi]

"I'M PREGNANT"

How they react when you tell them you're pregnant ! ft. gojo, geto, choso, toji, and nanami (fem reader)

content: no curse!au, fluff, slightly suggestive, mentions of infertility (choso), mentions of a miscarriage, established relationship (marriage + dating), children, families.

Gojo Satoru

Upon arriving home from another stressful day of work, Satoru looks around for his loving, beautiful, awesomest (his words not yours), girlfriend.

"UGHH I had a HORRIBLE day today. Baby, where are you so I can tell you all about it?!!" He takes note of how most of the lights are off and he can't smell dinner. Even on your worst work days you always make dinner, so there are two things Satoru can think of off the top of his head. A. You're out with friends and forgot to tell him or, B. Something is really wrong and you're hiding from him.

His stomach drops at the idea of option B, and as much as he'd like to eliminate that option it is very possible.

"[name]? Where are you?" He asks loud enough for you to hear it from your shared bathroom. You stare silently at the three positive pregnancy tests on the floor next to you. You know it's only a matter of time before he figures it out because he's used your real name instead of a pet name.

"If you're cheating on me then don't worry. I'll only kill the bastard who dared to make a move on you." If you weren't so stressed from your current situation you might have laughed at the fact that Satoru is a clueless idiot. Why would you cheat on him?

He starts walking deeper into the apartment. Into your room, you note, because you can hear his soft footsteps.

"Tell the coward to come out, babe. I bet he's in there with you fearing for his life right now." His voice sounds deadly but you know deep inside he's probably devastated thinking you've cheated on him.

"It's just me 'Toru. I.. I um. I need a minute." He shuffles outside of the door. If you're correct he's probably pressing his ear to the door to listen for another man's voice.

"I'm unlocking the door." He says, and fuck, you forgot that there's that little key at the top of the door to unlock it.

"Toru don't!" He unlocks the door pushing it open to reveal what's going on. It all happens too fast, you launch to try and close the door. In the process, one of the three tests gets kicked. His eyes draw to the moving object. They focus in on the test and he about falls to the ground.

"B-baby.. what are those?" The silence after his sentence is so loud that you could hear the busy city life outside of the bathroom window.

"You know what they are Satoru." He makes his way over to you embracing you so delicately like he'd break you if he squeezed any harder.

"Am I gonna be a daddy?" The question is whispered softly into your ear. Your tears fall landing on his shoulder.

"If you want to keep the baby, then yes." Ultimately it's not his choice, he knows that, but he also understands that this statement you've mentioned means you've already made your decision to keep the little baby forming inside of you.

"Fuck yeah I wanna keep it! Hope it looks like me so you have two adorably cute people to look at everyday. Also what the hell, my pull out game sucks!" He starts muttering to himself about how he could have sworn he hadn't cum inside of you recently.

All your anxiety subsides, and is replaced with faint annoyance when you roll your eyes.

"I'm having second thoughts." He doesn't realize you're joking because of how serious you look.

"Waittttttt I take it back!! The baby can look like you instead PLEASEEEEE PLEASEE KEEP IT." It's astonishing how your boyfriend can go from thinking you've cheated on him to being a sap in a matter of seconds.

Geto Suguru

"Sugu... can we go get some food?" This is the sixth night in a row you've asked this question. At first, Suguru just thought you had the munchies, but after observing you, he thinks there could be a different reason for your sudden change of behavior.

"It's 2:30 in the morning doll.." You sit up sleepily to check your phone and sure enough there are about two minutes until it's 2:30 am.

"How do you do that, Sugu?" He shrugs matching your previous actions.

"You seem to be having munchies every night? You getting enough to eat?" You nod meekly to answer his question. He suspects that you're pregnant but he's not sure how to bring it up.

"I have, but I dunno.. I've just been having these crazy food dreams that make me so hungry. I don't know where it's even coming from." He responds with a nod.

You take note of how he scratches the back of his neck, when he does that he's usually thinking.

"What's on your mind, Sugu?" He sighs inwardly as you get up out of bed to go make your latest craving: pork cutlet rice bowl with a fried egg on top. You didn't even really eat pork much but now you will destroy a pork cutlet bowl.

"I think you might be pregnant." You stop as soon as those words leave his mouth. The tension in the room rises as you try to find words to say.

"I- what? What makes you say that?"

"I mean think about it, last month I came inside of you like three or four times, which is enough to get you pregnant. On top of that you were testing out that new birth control since the other one was giving you weird side effects, and now you're craving pork. You don't even like pork." His reasoning makes since, but you're in denial right now.

"...That's a strong claim to make.... I mean what if it's just munchies?" He rubs his temple before getting out of the bed to join you in a hug.

"I'm not saying you are. I'm saying I think you are. If you are, you know I'll be there every step of the way with whatever decision you choose to make." He's so understanding, it's one of the many things you love about him.

For his sake you guys go out and buy a test for you to take. You took two of them, both showing a '+'.

"Well, it looks like you're gonna be a papa, Sugu." You say handing him the test, so he can see for himself.

"You're going to make an amazing mother, my love."

Kamo Choso

The both of you were clueless to the symptoms. He'd told you it's unlikely he'd ever get you pregnant because his sperm was tested, and he's very much infertile.

So, imagine his surprise when he sees a box of pregnancy tests under the bathroom sink while he's looking for a new tube of toothpaste.

You've already left for work so he'll wait for you to return to ask you about it.

He's excited, honestly. Choso has always wanted to start a little family with you, but he figured his infertility would stop that from happening. His doctor suggested adoption or a sperm donor. The two of you quickly ruled out the second option, it just didn't feel right to you guys.

The topic of adoption has been brought up here and there. You've both considered it deeply.

Choso can't sit still, he's off work today and the excitement within him will not fade away. All day long he's humming and practicing what he'll say to you when you get home. He even started looking at baby stuff.

When he hears the door unlock he's quick to act, greeting you at the door with kissing and smiles.

"Hey baby." His smile reaches his eyes, something it hasn't done in a little while.

"Hey, Cho. You seem to be in high spirits today."

"You're pregnant?" He blurts out the question without even thinking. Shit.. he was gonna try to ease into it.

"How'd you find out? Gosh did your stupid brother tell you? I was gonna surprise you!!" Confusion takes over your face when he gasps.

"You told Yuji before me? Baby.. how could you?" He's only half joking, he's a little bit sad, of course.

"I needed to tell someone!! I wanted to surprise you. I knew you were gonna be so excited." You pull him into a hug. He quickly reciprocates forgetting why he was even upset in the first place.

"Oh, I found out because the box of tests were under the sink."

"I probably should have hidden them better..."

Fushiguro Toji

Even though this is your second baby, telling him will never get any easier. When you'd told him about your first daughter he was indifferent about it. He'd go to great lengths to avoid you. Since you couldn't get through to him your only option was to call your step-son, Megumi.

He guessed that Toji was trying to figure out how to come to terms with being a father again. You had confronted your husband and he did admit to trying to understand the changes that would be made to your lives.

He said that his first daughter with you was his first and last child with you. You agreed with him because you only wanted a small little family. That was about three years ago. Here you are sitting on your bed looking at the test. Your daughter is playing on the floor with her toys.

"Mama, what wrong?" For her age she's quite perceptive. She must get that from Toji you think.

"Remember when you were telling Mama that you wanted a little sister or brother?" You'll break the news to her first. Her reaction will be the cuter and less stressful one.

"Mhm." Toji insisted on getting a bed frame that's somewhat high off the ground, so your little girl is standing right next to the bed waiting for you to pick her up.

Her deep green eyes stare deep into your soul as do your husband's eyes when he looks at you. She's sitting with her legs folded on your bed waiting for you to continue.

"Well.. you're going to have a little sibling." She springs up like a rocket, cheering in happiness.

"And when were you planning to tell me?" Your eyes quickly flicker over to the door frame which Toji is leaning against. There's a smug look on his face, nothing malice. Maybe he wants another one?

"Uh- Toji, baby, I was going to tell you soon. I just... Nami, my sweet girl? Can you go play with toys while mama and dad talk?" With ease she slides off your bed and walks out of your room.

Toji closes the door behind her ensuring she doesn't get nosy. "I didn't know how to tell you. You seemed really set on only having one.."

"I say stupid stuff all the time then change my mind. Do you really think I'd get mad at you for being pregnant? I'm the one who got you pregnant."

For once you don't know what to say.. you did think he'd be upset. Now that he's reassuring you all your anxiety washes away.

"I mean if it's another girl I might end it all." He's only joking, but you think another girl would be pretty funny.

"You're so stupid." He smirks at you, "You like it." Toji's not wrong, you do like it.

Nanami Kento

He could tell before you could. Everything started to add up when you complained about your back hurting, you hadn't mentioned period cramps in awhile and you seemed to be more clingy than Kento's ever seen you before.

It would make sense, he thinks. You'd gotten off of birth control last year and he stopped using condoms when you two got married. He wants kids more than you do, he believes. That want became more prominent after your first baby died three months into the pregnancy.

It would be cute to see you walk around with a round belly, complaining about little things like not being able to put your shoes on, or something of the sorts. He could once again experience that paternal feeling he felt awhile back.

"Honey, what're you daydreaming about now?" You ask joining him on the couch.

"Do you think you might be pregnant?" He asks suddenly taking you by surprise.

"I haven't really thought about it but it would make sense. The aches, cravings, yeah." If he were any normal man he'd get you a pregnancy test, but honey, this is Nanami Kento. You have a doctor's appointment scheduled for the next day.

When you arrive at your appointment with your husband the doctor has you pee in a little cup and he asks a bunch of boring but necessary questions.

On the drive home you notice Kento tapping the wheel to the tune of the song you're playing. He's never really liked your music tastes so he must really be excited.

"I can't wait to get the results." You nod in complete bliss. You're still trying to process the potential pregnancy. There was a time in the past; two months after you'd gotten off your birth control, you ended up pregnant but unfortunately your little baby passed away before being born.

There's hope in your heart that this baby is here to stay... a rainbow baby.

Within a few hours the doctor calls your husband telling him the results are positive. You're going to be a mother if this baby stays strong.

"We're going to be parents." He's so excited but he tries to contain his excitement.

"You're going to be a great daddy, Ken." He smiles dreamily at you. This is a dream come true to him. He couldn't think of anything better.

"I just know this is the one, Honey. We aren't going to lose this one." He tells you quietly with a little smile and you trust him. After all, Kento would never lie to you.

[pillowspace]

Thinking about how Charlotte Emily most likely regularly hung out with the Aftons.

William comes downstairs at 9 in the morning to see Charlie and Elizabeth with empty teacups and a teapot, and is just like, ah. Of course. Little girls love tea parties, but indulges them anyway like "what are you two up to?" Elizabeth immediately lights up. "Charlie said that we should play British People 'cause we're British!" William, now a bit more confused, "...ah. I see." Elizabeth, "oh won't you join us? Pretty please?" Charlie then pipes in that she had also asked Mike, but that he had very unfortunately said no, because "Liz plays too mean." Elizabeth, "I do not, you're just too scared to lose!" Michael, "I can't fucking lose at 'British People.'"

Charlie and Elizabeth do atrocious things to their dolls. Drama. Tragedy. They always clash on the endings though, as Charlie wants their dolls fo have a happy end while Elizabeth wants their dolls to have an even worse end

Michael doesn't know Charlie's staying over, and brings home his schoolmates one day. William Frowns TM like "I tried to tell you Henry was dropping off Charlotte today, but you were already halfway out the door." Michael later re-enters the room to find his schoolmates picking on Charlie and pulling at her hair. The closest Michael ever feels to peace is when he's with the Emilys, so he immediately spirals at the sight like, "oh god, if Uncle Henry finds out I brought people over who hurt his daughter, he might not bring her over anymore. What do I do then? What do I do if he stops liking me?" He quickly shoos off his friends, going "dude! She's a guest, leave her be" while Charlie recovers. Before he too can follow after them, Charlie asks Michael if he'll draw with her. He hesitates. The Emilys are the closest he ever gets to peace, so he agrees and sits down to draw. "What are you drawing, Char?" "Marionette!" "'S that the creepy thing that's always watching the guests come and go at Freddy's?" "He's not creepy, he's my friend. Dad made him for me :(" "ahh. You know, my father's been building something for Liz too." "You think that it'll protect her like Marionette protects me?" "Maybe."

Charlie notices how anxious CC always seems to be, and declares one day that she'll keep him safe. She makes him a drawing of them both holding hands, and gives it to him so that he may always look upon it and know that Charlie's rooting for him. He nearly bursts into tears at the kind gesture. The whole household tries to be nicer to each other whenever Charlie's around, but CC tells her about Michael's behaviour to him. Knowing how weak Michael is to her, Charlie gives Michael a look while he's grabbing cereal the next morning like "you should be nicer to your brother. He's just a little kid." Michael immediately pauses, then awkwardly closes the cupboard like "ummm. Okay." Not wanting to use Charlie as a means to make fun of CC, he just never brings the interaction up afterwards

The Emily and Afton families joining together are constantly filled with different forms of jealousy from the Aftons. William, he's jealous of Henry. Michael, he's jealous of Charlie's positive relationship with her father. CC, he's jealous of how Michael seems to like Charlie so much more than him. Elizabeth doesn't even notice her own jealousy, but deep down, Charlie's completely peaceful household... confuses her. She rationalizes the lack of favouritism or hostility as it only stemming from Charlie being an only child, rather than Henry's good parenting. Being so young as well as being the perfect golden child, Elizabeth doesn't know how to express doubt in her father. Clearly, it must be her siblings doing something wrong if Charlie and Uncle Henry are doing so well on their own!

After CC's death, the house is filled with an unbreakable tension. It's grief. It's guilt. Michael and his schoolmates completely cut ties after what happened. And as always, the Emilys feel so separate from the tension of his own home. Michael starts talking to Charlie more frequently, more often at Henry's house rather than his own. He tries not to, or at least usually tries to hide first, but he accidentally has a complete breakdown in the living room one time. Charlie hums a soothing lullaby to him until Henry eventually comes back, notices the state Michael's in, and takes over calming him down while sending Charlie off to do some other seemingly helpful task. After Elizabeth's death, Michael only really has the Emilys left. Charlie stops just being his source of peace, and becomes his best friend. His only friend. Then after Charlie's death...

It's rather lonely all of a sudden.

Later, years later, when Michael's flesh is rotting on his bones and everything is just about to finally be done with, he sits down on the edge of a cheap creaky stage he bought, and lightly knocks his knuckles against Lefty's calf. "Charlie? Can you hear me alright? It's Michael ... I'm sorry. I know I never acted like it, but... for what it's worth... you were my best friend back then. ...Whatever's beyond this, would you like to be friends again there too?"

[whimsyfinny]

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Charlie discovers the Winchester boys to be struggling with keeping the bunker tidy, looking after themselves and being able to do their job simultaneously. Luckily she has a friend who’s from a Hunter family that is in need of work and can help them with research. Or so she thought that’s what her job would be. When Dean sees your more domesticated side, his head won’t stop swimming with all the wrong ideas.

  Slow burn, enemies to lovers, smut

Warnings: None (Yet) in chapters to come there will be smut (and lots of it) and possible violence/blood/gore

 Chapter Word Count: 1762

—-MDNI—-

A/N: My first Supernatural fic so I hope it doesn’t suck ass. Only proof read by myself, so pls let me know of any errors so I can correct! Also I know at this point in the series Dean is more serious, however I love pre-Hell Dean so imma bring some of those vibes in here. This is also posted on my AO3.

——————————————————————

I'm Not Your F*cking Maid

Please read Prologue before starting.

Chapter 1

I sat in the window booth at the typical sleepy diner, tapping my fingers on the sticky wooden table and checking the time on my phone every minute. She was late. She was never late. And now I’m getting worried. I’m sure she’s fine, I had convinced myself as I reached for my backpack and pulled out an old tome on burial rights over various different cultures. I might as well read to distract myself whilst I wait for her to arrive. I try to relax into the monotone ambience of the room, and just as I get settled into the scrawling text on the ancient pages, a growling engine pulling up outside draws my gaze away from the long paragraph on ‘Cremation’. I return my attention back to the book after a second as the engine ticks over outside for a few more beats before being turned off. The waitress returns to my table to collect the empty beer bottle I’d drained when I first arrived; she smiled and asked if she could get me anything.

“Just another one of those please,” I smiled back, hearing the bell ring as the front door opened and my gaze jumped from the waitress to Charlie as she came skipping towards where I was sitting, sliding into the booth opposite me.

“(Y/n) I’m so sorry I’m late, I had an errand to run and it took waaaayyy longer than expected.”

“It’s ok, I was starting to get a little worried so I’m just glad you’re alright….” I felt my voice trail off as I felt the booth cushion dip as someone sat next to me. I whipped my head around and came nose-to-nose with a man I’d never met before; with the most enticing green eyes I’d ever gazed into and annoyingly kissable lips pulling into a devilish smirk. Just as those lips parted to speak, I blurted out without thinking:

“Who the fuck are you?”

He blinked in slight shock, and paused like he was rethinking what he was going to say. He opened his mouth to speak again but was interrupted a second time.

“Dean, don’t sit so close,” another man, who I didn’t even realise was there, had sat down next to Charlie. He was taller, with impressive hair and softer features than this Dean guy, who was practically sitting in my lap and eyeing me up and down. Dean gave this other man a look as if to say ‘shut up’, before turning to me once more, devilish grin back in place. He opened his mouth to speak a third time right as the waitress returned with my beer.

“Here you are,” she said sweetly, not knowing she was interrupting as Dean threw his hands up in defeat at not being able to get a word in, slumping back in the chair. The waitress put the bottle down in front of me.

“Can I get anything for your friends?” She looked around the table and before either of the men could answer, Charlie jumped in;

“Three very strong coffees please.”

Dean huffed, “Oh so I can’t even order a beer?”

“You two boys have been living on pizza and beer for God knows how long. At least drink something that contains some water,” Charlie quipped, looking at them both like they were naughty children. She sighed when she realised they looked slightly ashamed of themselves. “Anyway, (Y/n), this is Sam and Dean. I know you’ve been looking for work and these two might be able to help. They’re good friends of mine and they’re-“

“Hunters,” I interrupted, feeling my blood start to run cold, “yeah I know who they are. Winchesters,” the name felt bitter on my tongue, like poison.

They must have noticed the change of tone in my voice because the table went quiet, even the mischievous glint seemed to have gone from Deans gaze as he looked at me with intrigue. Annoyed at myself for not realising who they were sooner, I grabbed my backpack and unzipped it, packing away my book. I stood up and glared down at Dean, about to bark at him to move when Charlie grabbed my wrist.

“(Y/n) what’s wrong? What are you doing? Please don’t go, we…they could really use your help right now.”

“And why should I? They’re the reason I’m struggling in the first place,” I paused, staring down at the two men who now had dark, ashamed expressions cloaking their features, almost like this wasn’t the first time they’d heard this side of the story where they weren’t always the hero’s. “They’re the reason my family is dead, and I’m all alone.” More silence hung over the booth like a dark cloud. It was Sam who spoke up after a minute or so, genuine sorrow in his eyes.

“(Y/n) I’m so, so sorry. Who-”

“Bobby Singer.”

The Winchester brothers shot each other a stunned look.

“B-Bobby?” Sam stuttered whilst Deans eyes widened. He looked like he’d taken a blow to the chest and had the air knocked from his lungs, “We didn’t know he had any living relatives…”

“He was my uncle,” Deans jaw clenched, “And you guys didn’t know because he knew I’d end up being used against him. I collected books for him to help you guys on all your bullshit missions, so haven’t I already helped you enough? Don’t you owe me some peace?” I threw my bag on the floor and picked up my beer, taking several gulps before slamming it back onto the table before continuing, the words just spilling out. “He was my only living relative for as long as I can remember. So fuck you guys for taking him away from me.”

“We loved Bobby,” Dean spoke suddenly in a grave tone and his gaze went dark as he stood up to face me. His tall form with strong, broad shoulders loomed over my much smaller stature, one of his fingers jabbing into my chest.

“Dean-” Sam started but was silenced by a wave of Deans other hand.

“You can get down off your high fucking horse if you think that you’re the only family that he had. You weren’t. He raised us more than our own father did, and I’ll be damned if I don’t think about him every day and wish he was here. You’re not the only one grieving him so stop acting like a precious little bitch and grow up,” Deans voice grew louder and more pissed as he spoke, and with every word he spoke he got closer and closer until he was right in my face, our noses almost touching. My heart rate was starting to pick up and I could feel the anger start to boil in my veins. Without missing a beat I threw my fist out and punched him in the face, making him stumble out of the booth and into the aisle in the diner. I heard gasps around me but didn’t look up. When the anger in my veins didn’t fade with the single punch, I didn’t give him a chance to gain his composure as I tackled him, making him fall on his back as I straddled him, my knees gripping his hips as I began punching him again and again right in that stupid face of his. Charlie and Sam seemed to sit there in disbelief for a few seconds before springing into action and lifting me off the older Winchester brother. Sam held me back gently but firmly as Charlie helped Dean to his feet, handing him a napkin from the table for the blood pouring from his nose and lip.

“You crazy bitch!” Dean spat.

“Fuck you!” I tried to break free so I could slap him but Sam held me tight.

The whole diner had gone silent as they watched me lose my shit, some amused but most were horrified. It took a few more moments of silence before they all went back to what they were doing and Sam let go of me, watching me like I was a time bomb. I heard Charlie giggle quietly.

“Holy crap (Y/n) I had no idea you had that in you. I’m actually a little impressed, you were always so quiet.”

“What can I say,” I turned to glare at Dean “I learnt from the best,” as I turned away I heard him mutter under his breath.

“Yeah you aren’t the only one.”

For a second time I saw red, and before Sam could grab me I spun on my heel and threw my fist out. CRACK.

*

The car doors slammed closed next to me after I was crammed into the back of Deans car. It wouldn’t have been that bad - the seats were oh so plush - if it wasn’t for the handcuffs tight round my wrists and duct tape across my lips. Oh, and that my thigh was rubbing up against the man that I had just assaulted. Dean was in the same situation with the handcuffs and the tape, his long legs having to spread wide so he can fit in the back of his own car. I could feel his gaze burning into the side of my face as I watched Sam and Charlie apologising to the diner staff through the front window. I was trying to find any sort of distraction right now, as Deans body temperature was hot and I could feel it through both his jeans and mine as he pressed into me. He was starting to make me sweat a little. Luckily it wasn’t long before Charlie and Sam hopped into the car, Sam in the drivers seat. They both turned to face us, smiles of bewilderment on their faces as if they were still processing what had just happened. Sam spoke first.

“(Y/n) is now officially barred from that diner, and honestly they wanted to call the cops. Charlie managed to save your ass as she still had her FBI badge on her,” he shot her a look and she grinned.

“So because now, you technically owe me a debt of gratitude, you will be staying in the bunker with the boys and helping them with their research.” She chimed, like she had won a game. In the end they got what they wanted.

I groaned and rolled my eyes. Of course. I heard Dean huff next to me, and he sounded just as displeased as I did. To be honest at this point, that’s fair.

Although he had it coming.

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Up Next

Chapter 2

[tyunn1ngz]

soobin nsfw alphabet

cw: as ambigious as i could but could come off as afab!reader in some sections! no gender stated as always<3

a = aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

clingy!!!!! making sure ur alright, that nothing hurts, have u peed yet dont get urself an infection, do u need food or some water, u just want cuddles oh ok he can do that!!!!!!! its endearing despite overwhelming how much he cares :]

b = body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

his hands and ur wrists/neck and these go pretty hand in hand bc his obsession with both starts bc of how his hands look wrapped around different parts of u >_> !! becomes especially obsessed with how easily he can wrap his long fingers around ur wrists (although hes entirely too gentle everytime he does it in ur opinion) !

if u have tits he’d also be a very big fan of them!

c = cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

another one who cums a Lot. loves cumming inside u so much dont make him pull out </3 he will of course but u could b filled w his babies cmon :< even if u can’t get pregnant he will be acting like u can and it makes him so nasty

d = dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

RLY adores cumming in u and then clean it all up w his mouth, might feed it to u sometimes too, tongues tangled up w ur mingling tastes :p

e = experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

a little but everytime u would think its his first time, and he knows what he’s doing up until pleasure makes him stupid, and his most feral instincts take over :3c

f = favourite position (this goes without saying)

pretty standard w missionary, likes seeing ur face especially when he wraps his fingers around ur throat. if u have boobies hes also a fan of u riding him just so theyre in his face and he can have his mouth on them the whole time. even if u dont hes gonna b sucking and licking at ur chest w reckless abandon tbh he doesnt care . shrugs

g = goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

hes more serious but not too intense, its typically light hearted bc its just him rly caring for u ! <3

h = hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

generally well kept hes a manscaper or whatever but hes not that hairy to begin w. random but i want him to have heart pubes idk ฅ/ᐠ. ̫ .ᐟ\ฅ

i = intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

very!!!!!! intimate!!!!!!! even when he’s rough this man is fucking u like he loves u (which granted, he does) holding u close while he rearranges ur insides and tells u ur the prettiest person hes ever seen .. sighs dreamily

j = jack off (masturbation headcanon)

if he cant be w u hes absolutely jerking off all the time and he loves it just as much as sex itself tbh. huge perv he cant help that his mind is always in dirty places and making his cock hard. who doesnt love jerking off sometimes ! hes real for that idgaf !

k = kink (one or more of their kinks)

breeding or pretty much anything to do with cumplay at all. overstimulation and edging probably big ones for him too!!! both giving and receiving ;3c

l = location (favorite places to do the do)

besides ur bedroom, the couch bc it means u can ride him, and the shower; despite how inconvenient and slippery it might get sometimes ＿|￣|○

m = motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

literally anything and everything u do will get him going. smth spills from ur mouth when u take a drink, hes hard. he gets even a tiny glimpse of under ur shirt, hes hard. he even remotely thinks abt kissing u a little deeper than whats usually chaste and hes hard. u name it, he’ll find some way to divert it in his mind to some perverse memory or fantasy

n = no (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

just nothing taboo, otherwise i don’t actually know what i’d say his turns off are … :S nothing to draw blood either

o = oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

not any particular preference— he loves using his tongue on u as much as he loves having his cock in ur mouth, so u ask him and he’ll probably just end up shrugging and tell u that he’d love both at the same time if u would ever 69 w him<3 although he does like seeing u struggle to take his big cock w tears in ur eyes, so maybe sometimes he leans a little one way than the other ʅ（◞‿◟）ʃ ！

p = pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

slow to start with so u can get used to the stretch of taking him, hes so big after all :((( soothing u with a shaky ‘is it too much, baby?’ before he fucks the absolute lights out of u when u give him the go ahead x_x

q = quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

loves a quickie bc he loves getting off like i have said a few times now ! obviously loves it more when he has time to savour and rly enjoy himself w u but he loves it all the same that he gets to giggle w u while u breathlessly do smth so dirty ✌︎('ω'✌︎ )

r = risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

yes and yes! risky to him sometimes is hotter and therefore best! ready to get caught by any of his members at anytime im afraid … poor guys … kinda …

s = stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

lasts a long time but its bc he tries and wants u to cum first, otherwise he’d blow his load so fast. edges himself if he really thinks hes abt to give in to his high. will go for as many rounds as u want and can handle bc again, always managing to make himself hard around u so !

t = toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

BIG fan of his fleshlight !!!! probably doesn’t own anything much else in terms of sex toys outside of that but thats all he probably needs anyway !!! jerking himself off w it when ur away, or fucking into it while u watch and say such dirty things to each other hnnnffff :(((((( ‘wish this was you, sweetheart. don’t you?’

u = unfair (how much they like to tease)

a crazy amount, but he makes it worth it bc u always get what u want in the end anyway, why not let him have a little fun w it? ur just so pretty when u beg a little <3

v = volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

louddd whimpers and the prettiest moans, and he practically hiccups when he gasps, he sounds sooooo pretty</3 tries his hardest to keep his volume down but u moan and it’s practically like a response the way he can’t help it :<

w = wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

wants (needs) to be pegged/topped at least once in his lifetime but has no idea how to ask for it which is crazy bc of how nasty he already is in bed. if u wanna bottom just say that, king! u have the ass for throwing it back!

x = x-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

ive seen the dick print tweets he is HUNG. end of talk thank u

y = yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

do i need to comment on this one or have we gotten the message yet … say hi hi hi hi 안녕하고 말할 만큼

take me high high high high 나를 좀 더 데려가 줘

z = zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

not so much tired as he is just satiated? ,,,so he’ll be pretty dozy but loves to chat w u after the fact. or at least he likes listening to you talk yk? he’ll give u hums of acknowledgment while u run ur hands thru his hair and pretty soon u’ll have him snoring away against ur chest lol<3

[wordsinhaled]

Wild to me that photo-shoots like this exist and no one has yet written the AU where Charles has many outfits for Edwin to lose his mind over. But it’s about more than just the outfits, of course. It always is.

So... if I were to do it it'd be like this:

Charles’ history and childhood are the same, and he’s chock-full of confidence issues, anger, a profound need for validation. When he’s in front of a camera he can make that all disappear for a bit, and just be pretty.

But what is he worth when what he is isn’t pretty? When he’s full of spitting, incandescent rage so strong it scares him; when all he wants is to fight back against the people who hurt him?

He thinks it’s ugly how much he can’t stand his dad. How jagged he is inside. How much he wants to be loved and held safe. How deep he carries the shame for wanting to simply be admired, and for daring to think he could deserve it.

He learns his way around a cricket pitch because he has to. Because it’s the thing to do. The thing that’s going to get him the least hurt, at home and at school. But it’s not foolproof: He’s never quite one of the lads. Never quite the right sort of son, either.

Charles who saves up for ages for drapey, pretty things; lovely things; things that feel too nice and look too nice on him, and secrets them away because if his father or his friends find them he’ll be dead. Charles who finds a secondhand camera in a charity shop. Charles who takes secret photos in the middle of the night of himself wearing his secret clothes, photos in which he could maybe be the kind of person he wishes he could be all the time. Confident. Cool. Not just pretty but beautiful. Unbroken.

He stashes the photos even though it would be safer not to keep them at all. And maybe it should be enough just to know he took them. But some selfish and needy part of him wants the evidence, the physical proof. So he’s got this shoebox of photographs stashed under a loose floorboard in his dormitory room at St. Hilarion’s, and after he dies, he retrieves it before he and Edwin leave the school together forever.

He won’t let Edwin look inside the box, at first.

Charles doesn’t show up on film anymore, or in mirrors. He tries to keep it a secret from Edwin—that this might be the bit that hurts the worst about dying, the being invisible. But it’s harder to keep this a secret than other things about his past.

He doesn’t have to really actually say it. It’s the wistful glances that do him in, probably, the ones he fails to hide well enough. One day, with no preamble, Edwin presents him with a full-length mirror in an ornate frame. “We going somewhere, mate?” Charles asks. Edwin tells him no, this mirror is different. He’s enchanted it. “Look again, Charles,” he says gently. And Charles looks again, and realizes he can see himself.

And who the fuck is going to stop him choosing what he likes now, when he’s picking out his outfits for the afterlife? His cunt of a dad? The ignorant tossers who drowned him to death? Charles’d like to see any of them try.

It seems like it won’t be Edwin who stops him either—Edwin, who goes a little glazed round the eyes every time Charles draws up short to stare at a silk shirt in a highstreet window. Nah, Edwin Payne’s a bloody first-rate enabler of all of Charles’ base needs to feel worth it. Charles has got the best best mate in the world. He doesn’t say anything as Charles’ wardrobe slowly grows. Just smiles his little enigmatic smile, the one that's just for Charles with its tantalizing flash of teeth, and drags his gaze over Charles like he approves of Charles’ daring every time Charles wears something new.

So one day he shows Edwin the box. The photos. A month later Edwin brings him a vintage camera and a roll of spelled film. Offers to photograph him.

And Charles could cry. Could shake apart into tiny little pieces. He wants to be seen so fucking bad. By Edwin in specific. By Edwin, who wraps himself all up in tweed and pinstripes and flushes regularly at the sight of Charles’ collarbone. By prim and proper Edwin, who puts his hand on the small of Charles’ back and tells him to buy the silk shirt; that is why they get paid for taking on cases, isn’t it, after all? Port Townsend has changed him. Changed them both.

“We all have our pleasures,” Edwin says, and there’s that smile again, that raised eyebrow—and what does it mean? Charles wants to know Edwin’s pleasures. Wants to be one of them.

Can he be one of them?

There’s a tiny little thrift store in this little seaside town, crammed full of clothes Charles loves almost viscerally and just has to have - but he doesn’t try any of them on until they’re back home in London, in the familiar comfort of their cluttered, dimly-lit office. He digs the camera out of the bag of tricks backpack then, puts in the film; checks and rechecks that he’s put it in right.

One evening he sets the camera on the desk in front of Edwin, who is reading. Waits patiently for his attention to catch on it and for his curious eyes to lift to Charles’ face.

“Right,” Charles says. Past the lump of nerves in his throat and the phantom heat in his cheeks and the impending thrill of being looked at. “About those photographs. You asked if I’d...”

“Be amenable,” Edwin finishes for him, like he’s remembering their conversation precisely.

Charles wants to shrivel up. And he also wants to stand taller, prouder. Angle himself just right. Because Edwin’s watching him now, appraising, and the idea that he might like what he sees makes something unbearably good fizzle down Charles' spine. “Well, I'm. I'm a bit more than amenable, mate,” he says. His voice is a rasp in his throat.

“Are you indeed,” Edwin says evenly. He steeples his fingers. Like Charles is a case and he’s already solved him. Like Charles is one of his cherished first-edition detective magazines with a fraying binding and Edwin is going to fix him right up.

Maybe it'll be easy. Done in a flash. Or if not, maybe Edwin will be up for the challenge. Charles wants to find out which, more than he's ever wanted something in his entire short life and in his afterlife combined.

[hey-august]

Word count: Just under 1k Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, buggy x GN!reader, no use of Y/N, mentions of masturbation, sex, and oral.

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Buggy who is surprisingly good at drawing.

Buggy who doodles all the time. Ugly little caricatures of people who piss him off. Goofy scribbles of bits that make him laugh. Potential skits. 

Buggy who scrawls on the margins of paper, the corner of napkins, anywhere he can relieve the itch in his hands.

Buggy who designs costumes for his crew. Colored pencils and oil pastels bring the flashy couture to life.

Buggy who carries a small sketchbook in his coat. Deckle edged paper wrapped in leather, perfect for practicing pencil sketches and graphite drawings as he observes the crew.

Buggy who doesn’t share the drawings in his sketchbook, though. Some had to learn the hard way not to look over his shoulder.

Buggy who realizes too late that you are overtaking his personal pages. What started as small forms to study pose and movement grew larger, capturing more of your essence.

Buggy who becomes obsessed with capturing the small details. How your nose crinkles when you laugh. The sneer in your lips when you’re pissed. The way you rake your fingers through your hair when you try to calm yourself.

Buggy who gets curious late one night. Curious and desperate.

Buggy who draws you from memory and fueled by his filthy imagination. The soft sound of pencil scraping along the paper is comforting.

Buggy who fills a page with you in compromising positions. The lewd expressions you might wear. What he thinks you’d look like split on his cock. Or mouth open, begging to have your face fucked. His hands gripping your plush thighs.

Buggy who fucks himself to the hand-drawn porn and cums all over the page.

Buggy who feels guilty and burns the soggy drawings, as best he can. It takes a few frustrating tries and he panics, even though no one is around.

Buggy who tries to ignore those feelings. Trying to draw anything except you. But everything looks like shit now. Proportions are off. He presses too hard when sketching, unable to erase the stark lines. Even his doodles lack life.

Buggy who gives in and scribbles you in the corner of his sketchbook before moving on to something else. And it works. His movements flow better. A weight is lifted off his chest.

Buggy who eventually caves to the nighttime muse once more. Filling another perverted page with the obscene images flooding his mind. This time, he doesn’t ruin the drawings with jizz or fire.

Buggy who revisits that page frequently. Adds to that page. Convinces himself that it’s okay, it’s not hurting anyone. In fact, it helps him by taking away other urges.

Buggy who eventually manages to misplace his sketchbook. He fucking lost it.

Buggy who doesn’t want to bring attention to his lost treasure. If he says it’s missing, some freaks might find it and look through the pages. They’ll realize what a pathetic loser he is.

Buggy who frantically retraces his footsteps, barking orders to keep everyone away from him. 

Buggy who finally finds it in the hallway just outside his room. The book must have fallen out of his pocket and laid mostly out of sight with the brown leather blending into the wooden floor.

Buggy who is relieved. It doesn’t look like the book had been touched or moved. Even the leather string is still wound around the sketchbook tightly.

Buggy who needs to get back to other duties after sloughing them off most of the day. He’s still on edge, reading into everyone’s interactions. No one acts differently, adding to the relief that no one knows about his perversions.

Buggy who doesn’t open the sketchbook until the end of a very long day. Who waits until he’s alone and in his room.

Buggy whose stomach lurches at the note peeking out of one of the pages. A page devoted to your smile. A note with your handwriting. “This is so impressive! I look so happy”

Buggy who slams the sketchbook shut and starts to pace around the room. Fuck. Did you find it first? Did you look through it? Why? What else did you see? What else did you see?

Buggy who freezes at the thought. Who stares at the awful book, as if it would pipe up and tell him in a fluttery voice.

Buggy who grabs the book and roughly throws it into a drawer, ready to lock up his feelings. Ready to deal with his unhealthy actions with more unhealthy actions.

Buggy who tries to go to bed but can’t sleep. He lays in bed surrounded by a carousel of thoughts. Of fear. And anxiety.

Buggy who sends over a hand to retrieve the damn book. He has to know. He’ll die if he doesn’t find out.

Buggy who can feel his hands shake with each heartbeat as he thumbs through the book, looking for more notes.

Buggy who feels both calmed and excited as he finds your commentary on a few more innocuous pages. Praises for his skill and appreciation for scenes he captured.

Buggy who finally flips to the page. That one.

Buggy who’s afraid to read the note you left there. But he does. “Want to collaborate one day?”

Buggy whose stomach and heart are in knots. 

Buggy who keeps reading. “I’d like to see what you look like too.”

Buggy who shows up at your door, panting and red faced. Sketchbook in hand.

Buggy who trails his fingers along your face as he fucks into you, commiting each detail to memory. The shape of your mouth with each moan. Your lust-filled eyes. The little teeth marks left after you bite your lips.

Buggy who can’t help but stare at your sex-tired body. Chest heaving. Glistening.

Buggy who still wants to taste you. To taste himself on you. Who uses his mouth and tongue to memorize more of your body.

Buggy who is surprisingly good at drawing and collaborating.

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A/N: Just want to highlight this line bc I love it "This time, he doesn’t ruin the drawings with jizz or fire."

[damned-punk]

Hello to my favorite Punk ❤️

May i request a story where Kidd is exhibitionist and Killer is a voyeuyr who are both interested in the reader?

Bonus points if Kidd is a little nervous and Killer has to give him a peptalk before they meet up with the reader.

The Show (Kidd x Reader x Killer)

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Content Warning: nsfw, exhibitionist!Kidd, voyeur!Killer

Content Description: f!reader overhears a rather vague conversation between her partners and finds herself in an interesting position later in the evening ♡

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You’d noticed that both the Captain and his first mate, who’d recently established their mutual feelings for you, had been very cautious around the subject of more intimate activities. Kidd would make inappropriate jokes and Killer would offer very provocative comments, but it seemed like they were shying away from the impending activities that were always only moments away from occurring. It could be frustrating at times, being worked up only for the night to end with you alone in your cabin with your thoughts. It was a difficult situation to navigate so on one slow evening at sea, you resolved to have a conversation with them about it.

You made your way to the door of Kidd’s workshop to find it slightly cracked open, the room vacant and somewhat organized which was a sure sign that he hadn’t been there for at least a little while. This was unusual, it was the perfect kind of day for his tinkering inclinations and it just didn’t make sense for him to be anywhere else. You carried yourself to the starboard of the ship, walking across the nearly desolate deck and into the hallway that housed doors to meeting and storage rooms. At the end of the hall, light glimmered from beneath one of the doors. You could make out Kidd’s voice but not his words, something that prompted you to quietly draw closer in an effort to conceal your presence.

“…and if she doesn’t?”, you listened to the Captain’s voice, catching the middle of his conversation.

“We stop and don’t press her about it.”, Killer replied, your curiosity surmounting, “She already knows we’re interested and we know she feels the same. I don’t understand why you’re making this so difficult.”

“I don’t want to overwhelm her and fuck this up.”, Kidd replied quickly, “How the hell are we even supposed to approach this? (Y/N) might not have any experience and even if she does, there’s no guarantee this’ll be something she wants to try.”

“It’ll be fine either way. If it’s a hard no, we move on. If she wants to try, we’ll proceed.”, Killer retorted, “You’re making this way harder than it has to be.”

“She needs a safe word-“, the Captain started again, his first mate cutting him off almost immediately.

“Kidd.”, Killer began, “That’ll come naturally. If you start the conversation by asking her for a safe word, you really are going to fuck this up.”

Your mind was swimming with anticipation as to what had Kidd so worked up, especially considering that it involved you. What did they want to do that warranted a safe word? Killer was always so calm and collected so his demeanor was totally unsurprising, but you’d never known Kidd to shy away from anything. Going against your initial inclinations, you decided to hold out and see what fate would bring instead of approaching them yourself. It was apparent that they’d been having similar thoughts to your own, only in a different context.

“I’m thinking tonight after dinner, I’ll tell her we need to talk with her. It’d be best if you were already in the room so it’s not as awkward.”, Killer divulged Kidd with his plan.

“Alright, after dinner it is then.”, you heard the Captain say, followed by the sounds of moving chairs as they stood to leave.

You immediately returned to your cabin and replayed their conversation in your mind several times over. Feelings of excitement, anxiousness, and interest flooded your thoughts. This was a much better scenario than having to painstakingly press them for the reason behind their reservations. Taking it upon yourself to prepare for what may come, you changed into something more comfortable and skipped dinner on account of your nerves. The evening seemed to be flying by and when heavy boots approached your door, a fluttering feeling erupted in your belly. Three knocks sounded which prompted you to spring to your feet, swinging the door open to find Killer leant against the frame. Your size difference was exaggerated by his posture, an observation that caused your face to flush several shades of red.

“Hey babe, Kidd and I wanted to run something by you if you’ve got a minute.”, he stated, your heart racing.

“Of course!”, you smiled up at him, following his long strides back to their shared cabin.

Kidd sat shirtless at the foot of the bed, a very intimidating smirk plastered on his face. His posture was in stark contrast to the worry in his voice just hours prior, a factor that worked to intensify the situation. You sat on the love seat that faced the bed awaiting the fabricated conversation, an action that prompted Killer to click his tongue.

“That’s my seat.��, he made his way to stand before you, “Go sit with the Captain, sweetheart.”

“Yeah, come over here babe.”, Kidd’s voice caught your attention, his massive hand patting his lap.

The energy in the room shifted as Killer assumed his position on the couch, leaning back and getting comfortable as though he anticipated to be sat there for a while. You attempted to sit beside Kidd on the mattress only to be scooped into his lap, your back resting against his front as you tilted your head up inquisitively. The Captain let his hand wander, mindlessly kneading the flesh of your thigh and hip while Killer watched intently.

“So… what d-did you want to talk about?”, you asked, stumbling over your words while trying desperately to ignore the intense warmth of your partner’s embrace.

“I think Killer could use some entertainment, don’t you think?”, Kidd proposed, ultimately catching you by surprise.

“What do you mean?”, you asked rhetorically, already having an idea of their intended depravity.

“Well…”, Kidd started to explain, rocking backwards a bit and moving your legs to rest on either side of his own, “Having you all pretty and squirming in my lap would be a great start. Is that okay?”

His words wracked through your mind, something akin to shell-shock rippling through your veins. You couldn’t find the words to respond, only nodding your head in approval as he let his hand wander beneath the waistband of your bottoms. Wasting no time, he worked his fingers in soft circles over your clit. Wrestling with a mixture of pleasure and embarrassment, you closed your eyes in an attempt to quell your shyness.

You heard Killer stand, the sound of footsteps approaching and stopping just in front of you imploring you to open your eyes. Killer loomed over you and placed a hand on your chin, leaning closer until his mask was nearly brushing against your face while Kidd’s ministrations continued. A sudden slap on your bottom caused you to gasp, it didn’t hurt at all but was totally unexpected.

“Keep your eyes open.”, Killer commanded, “There’s no reason to hide, I won’t get to see my pretty girl if you do.”

Kidd laughed from behind you as Killer reassumed his seated position. Killer’s words turned you into jelly, you wanted him so badly. It was evident that this whole encounter was the result of their shared kink, but a part of you wished to have both of them participate at the same time. When your legs started involuntarily trembling, Kidd halted his motions and moved you to rest on your back against the comforter. He removed your bottoms and rested your feet against his shoulders as he dipped his head between your thighs. You were already so close and the change of sensation from his calloused fingers to soft tongue left you grasping at his hair for support. He groaned against your folds, reveling in how good he was making you feel. Your belly tightened and your muscles spasmed as you climaxed against his lips, your whimpers and moans carrying a lewd symphony to their ears. Kidd kissed his way up your abdomen and to your lips, sloppily sucking each bit of flesh he could reach while aligning himself at your entrance.

“You ready?”, he asked gruffly, well aware of his size and the necessary patience needed to fit.

“Yes, Captain.”, you replied, gazing up at his disheveled state through half-lidded eyes.

The use of his superlative in such a vulnerable and intimate space sent him over the edge. Kidd needed to be as close to you as possible in that moment. He thrusted himself forward and watched your beautiful face contort as he stretched you open. Your panting surmounted into pornographic sounds as he picked up the pace, his heavy balls slapping against your ass with every snap of his hips.

“K-Kidd!”, you stuttered out, gripping him tightly for support.

“You can take it, (Y/N). You’re such a good girl.”, Killer encouraged you, his words of praise causing you to flutter around your Captain.

“Killer, please!”, you called out to him somewhat involuntarily, shocking yourself and your partners in the process.

“I don’t fuckin’ think so.”, it was Kidd’s turn to land a firm hand on your ass, “Don’t say his name, you’re taking my cock.”

Kidd’s continued muttering of filthy phrases left you trembling beneath him again, the sudden squeezes of your walls around his length urging him to climax. He pressed his forehead to yours as his pace steadied to a halt, the incredible feeling of fullness leaving you unable to move and at his mercy. After several moments, he removed himself from you and watched intently as his arousal pooled onto the sheets below. You couldn’t look at either of them, your more rational thoughts returning as you came back down from such an intense high. Killer made his way to you while Kidd left to clean himself up and ready the bathroom for you. The clicking of his mask caught your attention and your expression softened when you saw his face. He was smiling down at you so sweetly, his hands meeting your hips and offering a gentle massage to stifle any lingering aches resulting from Kidd’s grip.

“How do you feel?”, Killer asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

“Fine.”, you replied quietly, exhausted and ready to be asleep between your partners for the rest of the night.

“I would prefer for you to feel good, but I suppose fine works too.”, he pressed his lips to your own, “I love you, (Y/N).”

“I love you too, Kill.”, you smiled up at him, feeling very secure and exponentially more relaxed than you had at the start of the day.

“Don’t you have something to say to me?”, Kidd grumbled from the bathroom door, obviously wanting to be included in some of the soft affection.

You and Killer shared a knowing glance, giggling at how soft Kidd’s heart really was. It was so sweet and you felt so thankful be able to call them yours. Nothing could compare to the connection that the three of you shared and you couldn’t wait to see what the future held in store.

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[desi2go]

First little crush

pairing: Felix x reader

warning: just pure fluff!

authour's note: HAPPY BIRTHDAY LIXIEEEE! Y'all don't know but he was the one that brought me into kpop and Stray Kids with his deep as fuck voice. He was also my first bias before Chan stole my heart <3 So he owns a very special place in my heart <3<3<3<3

Even if Felix wouldn't want to accept it at first, he must admit that during the time in college, he somehow got feelings for you, one of his closest friends since he stepped into the classroom for the first time. It happened unintentional but here he was. But he was way too shy to ask you out, fearing that you might not feel the same and cut down your friendship at all.

Instead, Felix puts little notes on your desk in your next class during lunch when you were with your other friends, always leaving you something to come back to. Just a little writing to remind you that he likes the way your hair looks today or how nice your new earrings are. Even if you just smiled so pretty for a second, he would put it on the note.

It was not the only thing he did secretly. After watching some sappy romantic movies with Changbin, he copied some methods to show you how much he liked you, even if you didn't know who it was.

From time to time, you found flowers, your favourite ones, left outside of your dorm room, between some flowers was a note with sweet nothings, making your heart warm and fluffy. Chocolates were placed gently in your locker, a red ribbon tied securely around it. They were always your favourite and you wondered every time you got some, who sended them to you and exactly knew what kind you liked.

You would lie when you say that you knew who it was. In fact, you had absolutely NO idea who it is, not even in the slightest. There was nobody that looked at you different or seemed to have feelings for you. The idea of your secret admirer being Felix never crossed your mind. Even when you silently hoped that it was him but you weren't gonna to say that out loud. It didn't seem like he had any interest so you definitely aren't going to bring that up.

Seungmin and Yeongin teased you relentlessly, making fun of who your secret lover could be. And they were just as unknowing.

After some time, they had enough. It took them all too long for your lover to reveal his identity and they decided to find out on their own. They observed your locker like a treasure, always keeping an eye on it and they even wrangled Minho and Hyunjin into helping them finding the culprit.

They took shifts in watching your locker, observing the environment if someone looked suspicious. The only time, they left the locker alone was at night and when you all had class. These were the only opportunities for Felix to put you some treats into it in secret. He felt like a ninja on a special mission, fearing that someone could see him.

Even though Hyunjin commented that everytime they left the classroom it was always Felix who was the last one to leave. But you just laughed it off - not paying any attention to his suggestion since there was no way that he could be your Romeo.

Felix felt increasingly anxious and freaking out as he watches you and his friends attempting to work out who is leaving you all these little gifts. He even compared you to Sherlock Holmes but he must admit that Holmes was more successful. Silently, smug with himself.

But all the work was worth it as soon as he saw your eyes light up each time you received something new from him. Mindlessly, he scribbles in his notes images of you, drawing your beautiful face and that angelic smile that slowed down his whole world. They never looked good enough compared to the real version. Plus, he wasn't as talented as Hyunjin but at least you could tell who he pictured. He never showed his friends his drawings, immediatly grabbing his notes and hiding it when someone tried to sneek a glance over his shoulder.

One time, he gifted you a box and when he saw a little red ribbon in your hair the next day, he nearly lost it. He was on cloud nine - seeing you wearing something that he had gifted to you. Of course, you were doing it unknowingly but it has happened none the less.

From that moment, he decided that wants - no needs - to buy everything for you. He wanted everything you would wear to come from him. Every piece of food you eat he needed to buy.

However, Hyunjin grew even more suspicious and one day, he claimed that he would get proof of her suspicion. One thing that Felix learned while being friends with him was that as soon as he had a goal, he was going to achieve it. No matter what. And Felix knows it is just a matter of time, the clock was ticking.

So, he was left with only two options - confess or get caught red handed.

Hours were spended on the internet - searching for the right answer without success. Heck, he even watched more of the romantic movies with Changbin but he is still having trouble.

He couldn't go to Chan - his friend was even more helpless than he is with approaching his crush. So there was only one choice when he didn't want to get caught from Hyunjin. Confessing.

He held his breath as he knocked on your dorm room door, hands sweaty and shaking. A beautiful bouquet in his hands as he waited for you to open.

He had his words worked out, after hours of thinking. He had practised in front of his mirror before coming to you. Every word from his planned out confession got lost in head when he sees the door opening and you peeked outside. Nervously, he swallowed, opening his mouth to start confessing but not one sound came out, not one word.

He catched the small smirk on your face when you examined the bouquet.

"Are these for me?" The slight teasing was obvious in your voice - but not uncomfortable. However, it still made him blush harder.

Felix still couldn't find his words, in his head was only a turmoil, so, he nodded shortly and pushed the flowers towards your arms. He avoided your gaze with burying his head in his own shoulder.

You smiled and let out a small chuckle as you observed the sweet smelling flowers in your hands. You noticed that this one was much bigger than the normal ones he usually laid in front of your door - he had really outdone himself with that.

Silently, he watched you glide back into your dorm room - setting up the vase for the flowers he had just gifted you. It never left its place since you got so many bouquets over the months. In the meantime, he stood ridged in your doorway, fiddling with his fingers.

Again, your head poked out with a smile and a sweet blush on your cheeks. "Are you going to come in?" you asked and he completely froze for a moment. He definitely never thought about you accepting his mixed up and embarissing confession. But when he processed your words, he was quick to follow you with fast steps in case you changed your opinion. He had never moved faster in all his life.

Hyunjin stood with Seungmin in a dark corner of the corridor, neither Felix or you had noticed them. Only their head peaked around the corner so that they could watch the scene unfold in front of their own eyes. Seungmin's eyes had doubled, blown wide, and his jaw nearly dropped to the floor.

"No way. He was the secret lover?!" Never in one million years he would have guessed that one of his friends was the admirer. He thought that Felix would be too shy to approach you, even gifting you something never crossed his mind.

Hyunjin just smirked in triumph. "I fucking knew it" he exclaimed laughing at Seungmin's expression.

"Well, give me my well earned money. A bet is a bet!" he added and Seungmin grumpily pulled his wallet out after rolling his eyes and handed his friend the money. He will never bet against Hyunjin, that was clear.

[nebulaafterdark]

More Than Anyone (Part 7)

Warnings: 18+ smut, targcest, lactation, childbirth

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

Y/N’s term is complete, her body aches. Though she rarely complains, perhaps she knows it will do no good. Or perhaps she had bore enough children that she is used to pain.

Aegon is not sure which. Dutifully he climbs into their bed each night, to hold her and soothe her tense muscles after a bath. Pressing the lightest of kisses to her skin. “After this babe we need no more heirs.” He kisses her temple reverently. Aegon does not wish her to suffer. “You have performed your duty. The crown is satisfied. I am satisfied.”

“What happened to ‘as many as you’ll give me?” Y/N jests. That’s the number of children he’d once asked her for.

The prince smiles, “I watched you bring our son into this world…I would not wish that pain on my enemy, least of all my dearest love.”

“But it’s worth it, wouldn’t you say?” Y/N grunts as she turns to face him.

“Our children are very dear to me.” You are also dear to me.

“Mayhaps this conversation should be tabled for a day when there is not a child pressing against my organs. I might be able to think a bit more clearly.”

“You know, my sweetheart,” Aegon begins chasing another train of thought. “The Maester once told me that babes can be coaxed out the same way they’re coaxed in.”

“Oh?” Y/N smirks, passing a hand over her swollen belly.

“Let me see here.” Aegon leans forward, giving sweet kisses to her bump. Then helping to work her nightgown and small clothes to the floor.

“Aegon,” she flushes, not used to his eyes on her in this state.

“You are beautiful,” he murmurs. “So pretty, so…full. Wonder how you’ll fair with my cock in you.”

Y/N whines, as he cups her breasts, thumbing her nipples to peaks before suckling at the left. The princess is so sensitive that she nearly bursts into tears. The soft pressure of Aegon’s lips finally draws the first signs of milk from within her. “Aegon.”

“You were brought into this world to be mine.” He murmurs, lapping at the droplets. “All the nights I lied awake, to drown myself in cups and wonder, ‘why me?’ I see it all so clearly now. I had to be born who I am and you had to be born who you are, so that our paths might cross. There is nothing we could do about it, our fate was written in the stars. This body longs for me as mine longs for you. All these years wasted fucking whores, to find relief from the aching hole in my heart, when it was you. My sweet girl.”

Y/N inhales sharply, as he latches on to the opposite breast. “I love you dearly, Aegon. So much so that my heart aches with it.”

He hums against her. To be loved, he had so often longed to be loved. His wife was born of love and therefore will never know half his demons. Though when he shared them, she took half their weight.

The Princess faces a different set of battles, to prove herself, to accept what is afforded her, acquired through fire and blood.

“Fuck,” Aegon sighs, his cock sliding easily into her warmth as she lies propped up against the pillows.

Her grin is lazy, spread across her lips like the cat who ate the canary. In this moment, she is every bit the spoiled little thing some thought her to be.

Her husband shifts his weight back on his ankles, fucking into her hard enough to make Y/N gasp. “Just there?” Aegon cocks his head to the side.

Y/N nods as he ruts against that spot within her. Fingers fumbling around in search of his hand. So much of her pleasure and her pain is held in his palms, where she finds comfort and strength in times of need.

Aegon twines their fingers together, feeling Y/N squeeze in time with her cunt. Full breasts bouncing wildly with each thrust. “To think this is what you’ve hidden from me all these years.” He clicks his tongue at her, never were his eyes allowed the privilege of her beauty great with his child.

“I still wish to hide,” she admits.

Aegon chuckles, draping the top sheet across her middle with his free hand. Watching with the softest of gazes as his sweet girl situates the material over her breasts, taking it down nearly to the place where they are joined. His strokes are slow and deep, lulling his wife to a gentle peak.

Y/N lets out a tiny sob as his hips snap against hers in quick succession. Throwing her headlong into a second orgasm, which soaks both of their thighs in her slick.

“Good girl,” Aegon praises, thumbing at her twitching bundle of nerves.

“Aegon,” she warns, catching his wrist.

“Once more,” he murmurs, close to the precipice himself.

“I can’t,” the pretty little thing hiccups beneath him.

Aegon only hushes her, “you can, sweetheart.”

“It hurts.” Too much of a good thing always does.

“Shhh,” he soothes, circling the swollen nub softly.

Tears well up in her eyes as she finds Aegon’s gaze.

“I’ve got you,” he coos.

The princess feels another climax building low in her belly. Breath leaving her in short puffs. “I-”

“I know,” Aegon groans, feeling her inner walls flutter around his cock. He draws pleasure from her cruelly. “I love you.”

“I love you,” Y/N wails, succumbing to him once more. Denied the ability to come down by his deft fingers, nudging back the hood of her pearl. “No more.” She pleads, bottom lip quivering. “Please, Aegon, please!”

The sound of her desperate pleas hurtle Aegon to his peak, cursing as thick ropes of cum fill her twitching cunt. Sore and twinging from exquisite torture.

He pulls out after a moment, collapsing beside her and brushing sweat damp hair from her face. Soft kisses as Y/N catches her breath, drying any trace of tears.

“That was an awful thing to do.” She chastises, no fire behind her words.

“Forgive me, my dearest love.” Aegon repents, helping to situate his wife on her side, a soft pillow cushioning her belly.

Y/N sighs, his arms coming round to stroke the babe in her womb.

“I will kiss it better, if you wish.” He taunts, earning a slap to his forearm.

“Don’t you even dream of it,” she nuzzles farther against him, despite her protest.

“Will you have your maids attend the birth this time?” The last time it was only the two of them. It was peaceful.

“If I ask for you and only you, will you be terribly upset?”

Aegon shakes his head. He would not be upset, “it would be my great honor.” To deliver another of their children…especially if this is to be their last.

Y/N let’s out a yawn, “that is what I want.”

————————————————————————

The morrrow comes too soon, forcing Y/N from the warmth of her bed to tend her duties. A council meeting, as heir, the princess cannot miss it.

She listens carefully, seated at the long table. Rhaenyra was born to be queen. Y/N hopes to make her proud.

As the minutes drag on, Jacaerys can’t help but notice his sister shifting uncomfortably in her chair. He inches closer, “sister? Is everything alright?”

To his surprise, she seizes his hand, squeezing tightly for a moment before exhaling harshly and coming back to herself. “I am well.” Y/N forces a smile as she releases his fingers.

He gawks at her while the blood returns to his hand. “Your labors.”

The princess quiets him. “Not now.”

“Are you mad?” Jace hisses, “this is not something you can postpone.”

“Mmm.” She hums out, low in her throat. Earning Daemon’s attention and then her mother’s.

“Is something the matter?” The Queen demands, they know better than to behave this way without cause.

“No. Forgive me, your grace.” Y/N chokes out, through a contraction.

“Yes,” Jace rats her out, “her labors have started.”

“Well,” Rhaenyra offers her daughter a kind smile. “You are excused, Princess.”

“Thank you, your grace.” Jacaerys nods, helping his sister to her feet.

“Ah,” she clutches at her lower belly as she stands.

Jace tosses her arm over his shoulder for support.

“Can’t believe you told her.” Y/N scowls, shuffling from the council room into the hall.

“Did you think I’d let you give birth during a small council meeting?”

“I could’ve made it.”

“Liar.”

“Fuck,” Y/N curses, forcing her legs to continue toward her chambers.

“How painful is it? If you had to say?” Jace wonders, soon his wife will be birthing their babe. He is doing his best to prepare.

“It is the worst pain I have ever known,” Y/N pants out. “Yet I would do it a hundred times more.”

He takes comfort in this. That it would be worth it; for her, for Baela. “Perhaps I could deliver my babe. Do you think Baela might like that?”

“I do not know, Jacaerys.” She bites out. “You are a kind man, a good husband, you will be a wonderful father.” Breathe, breathe. “But it is hard to speak at a time like this.”

“I apologize. Let us get you to Aegon.” The Prince sighs, hobbling down the corridor. Of course there’s the stairs, his poor sister…

“I can’t,” Y/N sobs out. This child is coming, she will not make it to the top. “I can’t, I can’t.”

“Y/N, tell me now, what can I do?” Jace helps her down, kneeling beside her on the bottom step.

“Send for Aegon, please hurry.”

“Surely you mustn’t be alone.”

“It’s just up the stairs, down the hall. I will be alright.” Y/N assures him.

“Very well,” he gives her shoulder a squeeze, making to stand. Dashing toward their chambers, Jace finds Aegon within. Newly clothed, unhurried.

“What is it?” Aegon frowns at the intrusion.

“Y/N is having the babe.” Jace pants out, having sprinted. “At the bottom of the staircase. Now.”

“Now?” Aegon all but shouts, rushing past his nephew, down the hallway and taking the steps two at a time. He finds his wife hunched forward, with her hands resting on her thighs, still fully clothed. “Sweetheart.”

“Help me,” Y/N pleads, shoving his arm up beneath her skirts.

“I’ve got you.” He murmurs, feeling the child has already begun crowning.

Y/N whimpers, this part never gets any easier.

“That’s it, sweet girl. We’ll have this babe in no time.”

Jacaerys is a few steps away, facing outward. Ensuring their safety and privacy in this moment.

“Oww, FUCK!”

“Breathe,” Aegon reminds her, their child’s head in his hand.

Her thighs tremble, aching from holding up her weight. Aegon peppers gentle kisses to the side of her face.

“I love you, more than you will ever know. And I am forever grateful for the family you have given me.” Aegon murmurs, as his wife bears down, the shoulders are tricky. “Our family.”

A few more moments of agony and the baby is in Aegon’s arms. Announcing their arrival with a loud wail.

“Thank the gods.” Jacaerys breathes, still facing away.

“Another boy, my darling.” Aegon informs Y/N, as she slumps down in relief.

“His hair-”

“I have been waiting, hoping even.” Aegon admits. “For a child with your features, perhaps you heard me in there, hmm?” He cooes at his son.

“Aegon,” Y/N smiles.

“Hmm?”

“His name,” she explains. “I wish to name him Aegon…after you. My dearest love.”

“Are you certain?” Tears prickle at the back of his eyes.

Y/N knows he can deny her nothing. “I have never been more certain.”

Series Taglist: @sophiexoxosblog @alicentswife @f4ll-for-you @tempt-ress @percyjacksonspeen @zoleea-exultant @midnightrqin @buckystevelove @httpjiikook @neenieweenie @springholland @zeennnnnnn @yelenabeleovapocket @nejiho3 @thatkindofgurl @aemondsb1tch @narwhal-swimmingintheocean @kiahpapaya @existential-echo @zzz000eee @janelongxox @bunny24sstuff @alitaar @minttea07 @rwdkarla @bibli0thecary @loxbbg

[dailyadventureprompts]

Alright, guess it’s time to address the apocalyptic legal elephant in the room:

For those who might not know, WotC plans were leaked to “update” the OGL in what is basically a scorched earth policy with regards to 3rd party material/creators in the hopes of cutting out the competition and forcing people to use their new products. 

As someone who lived through the 4th edition/pathfinder schism, the situation is laughably similar:  D&D is flourishing more than it ever has (thanks primarily to the OGL) but the execs at Hasbro want more of the money spent on the hobby to wind up in their pockets. Oblivious to the fact that the opensource nature of the game is what draws people to it,  they task the design team with creating a proprietary virtual tabletop through which they can sell d&d content without having to worry about books or pdfs being pirated. This rightfully outrages the fandom and burns every scrap of good will they had towards WotC, resulting in a dead edition that’s maligned years afterword as folks hop to the newer, easier game system. 

The thing that’s different this time is that the d&d playerbase has grown exponentially since the days of the first OGL, with 5th edition being the easiest version of the game to run/pick up and so many resources online, there’s almost no barrier to entry besides finding a stable/accommodating group.   Hell, with the explosive popularity of liveplay series you don’t even need to be actively playing in order to be in the fandom.  All of these people are networked together in a fandom hivemind spread across twitter/reddit/youtube and WotC just made an enemy of every single one of them with its shameless and destructive cashgrab.  No streamer or 3rd party publisher wants to give Hasbro 25% of their revenue, to say nothing of having their project “cancelled” if WotC sees it as a threat to any of their current projects ( see the huge number of spelljammer materials published after the company dropped the ball). 

It took about two years after the announcement of 4th edition for Paizo to come out with pathfinder, and I have no doubt the OGL leak kickstarted every major 3rd party publisher brainstorming some legally distinct version of the 5e ruleset. In the coming months I expect to see a number of these surrogate systems floating around the internet in much the same way that the onednd playtest content, but spurred on with the added “fuck you Hasbro” energy. After that, it’s only a matter of time till one of the big streamers picks up one of these systems and popularizes it, not wanting to pay the 25%tithe to WotC. Personally my money’s on Critical Role: they were one of the major factors in popularizing 5th edition and they’ve got the fandom pull to legitimize any claimant to the throne. 

To step away from playing oracle for a bit, I’d like to finish up this post by dunking on WotC:  

*ahem*

HOW FUCKING DUMB TO YOU HAVE TO BE TO TURN YOUR ENTIRE CUSTOMER BASE AGAINST YOU IN ONE NIGHT? This is some new coke/Reynolds pamphlet/invading Russia in winter levels of shooting yourself in the foot. Wizards was on shaky ground to begin with given that they’re coming off a series of notably disappointing products AND trying to launch a new edition/virtual tabletop/battlepass system, but to follow that up with a retroactive rules change that lets them outright steal from or shut down creators? It’s laughable.  Maybe, MAYBE they could have made this work if they were knocking it out of the park with new releases every year and cultivating a base of diehard WotC loyalists, but the fact of the matter is that aside from the brand name, the hobby has largely passed them by. Everything that Wizards does, from player options to settings to monsters to rules modules, someone else does better because they’re willing to take risks and put in the effort. Aside from the elegant simplicity of 5e’s base system, I can count maybe two pieces of actual game design (piety from Theros, ship combat from Saltmash) that I consider usable at my table, which is SAYING SOMETHING considering we’re nearing the end of the game’s ten year golden age. 

I know we’ll weather this storm, we always have, and regardless of what happens I still know my friends and I will enjoy gathering around the table and slinging dice even though we might not be playing “dungeons and dragons” in a couple years time.  I’ll keep my eye on the horizon, and let you know where I find safe harbour.

[nyctophiliq]

✮ ┆ THE IDEAL ART INSIDE YOU. ellie w. (the last of us)

— “at one point, everyone hated themselves.”

description.             everyone experiences art block once in a while, ellie just deals with it differently

content warnings.               MDNI, nsfw content, female bodied reader, art student! ellie, light bondage, ellie is a little rough, light bondage, she also fucks reader with a sharpie, oh and she draws with said sharpie on reader, so basically marking?, possessive & control freak! ellie, wc 1,67k author’s notes.                     you read the warnings? still here? hope you enjoy, you freak >:) pls reblogs are very very much appriciated

ellie who’s fountain of inspiration seemed to never dry up whenever she looked at you, or just thought about a glimpse of you. but as every artist, ellie too hits a rock bottom every once in a while and she just suffers from her art because she hasn’t yet figured out a way to suffer through it.

“my favorite piece of art that I don’t keep fucking up.“ she groans as her left hand comes to catch your throat, fingers clasping around your neck not at all lovingly but ferociously, her other hand palming your forehead while also managing to force your eyes open with her thumb and index finger. even if you wanted to fight back, there was no use for it. one of her wet cloths, the one that is covered in paint because she wipes her face and hands with it after a session in front of her paper is now wrapped around your wrist, tying them behind your back as she forces your legs apart with her knees, spreading them apart to reveal all of that is you, eyes spitefully wandering your nude body.

oh, how she hated you in these moments, when her art seemed to be nothing just a piece of painting that a child did with its fingers, spreading condiments around its plate and you were the mom who couldn’t help but praise her child, clip that god awful ‘painting’ on the fridge and call it a ‘future picasso’. it’s a disgrace to all the incredible painters before her, the ones who have sweat blood for their art not to be called a silly thing, be frowned upon, and to be taken seriously because sometimes words just weren’t enough. you seemed so perfect, your eyes, your lips, your face, your chest, your stomach, your legs, your everything- how could she ever create art as beautiful and magnificent as you?

she couldn’t let that situation to eat her alive, to consume her from the inside out, for it to own her because in the end it was her who owned it, owned you. the aspect, all the things she had admired, and she called you her muse- she made you who you are today just like god made angels to be so perfect, she is the god who birthed you, casted you in stone and made the land worship you as it’s protector.

“you’re mine, you hear me?” she yells, her spit spurting on your face and she pushes your head further into the mattress, her fingers pushing so hard on your skull she might just claw your eyes out. “I created all that you’re, sculpted you to be so ideal.” she rambles, shifting further between your legs, prying them open with so much force your hip start to burn and little sobs ball up in your throat from the discomfort.

ellie gives you a repulsed look as your lips agape, choking on your words, writhing from the same anguishing feeling of not knowing what to do. it truly turns her stomach, your uncertainty as you lie there, your eyes bulging from fear of what is gonna happen next. but your pupils tell a different story to her, that the way parts of your body is reacting goes against each other, and where your legs meet with your hips- it’s almost impossible to overlook the heat that is radiating.

“i own all the rights to you, everything that they see is my talent sacrificed.” she follows up, letting go of your head and reaching into the back pocket of her khaki shorts, and pulls a sharpie out. there isn’t a second that passed between her pulling it out and biting the cap off before she starts scribbling away on the skin that covers the middle of your chest.

the brush of the pen tickles your nerves, jolts running up and down your spine like a horde of wildlife fleeing after a gun shot, your back arching with each stroke she makes. your skin like paper trembling under her touch, but she is too busy to notice. your eyes roll to the back of your head, closing as you relish in the sensation. the ink staining your skin, her touch softening around your neck, the pads of her fingers ghosting over it, a small smile gracing her lips as she moves from your sternum to the top of your breast.

your mouth falls open at her touch, your hips swaying slightly against her knees as she continues to work. her voice hoarse as she speaks, “this will be mine, my masterpiece,” she says, swallowing hard. “mine…” she mumbles, her voice trailing off. she works in silence for what seems like hours, the only noise being your labored breathing and a soft scratching sound from her pen. your eyelids flutter slowly, the darkness encroaching on your until all you can see are stars floating through the room. you are falling into nothing, nothingness.

she switched sides sometimes ago, but you hardly noticed until she pulls away from both your chest and neck, your eyes snapping open as her hand comes to rest on your waist. her tongue darts out to wet her lips, her body tensing slightly. “yes…” she whispers, before biting her lips, pushing her tongue against the teeth that is peaking above. your gaze follows hers until you find yourself staring right into her eyes, their irises so dark they look black.

“mine… I own this body, I own this life… this was always supposed to happen.” she laughs then, dark, and wicked, her words dripping with confidence as she runs her finger along whatever she wrote or drawn on you. “you should see… you should see but where should i-“ she cuts herself off, a puzzled look washing across her features as she tries to find the handheld mirror, simultaneously searching for a place to put the sharpie because she is gonna need it again, she just needs you to see her signature first.

she laughs as she thinks of it, deep and rumbling before she teases your folds with the handle part of the sharpie, collecting all that have been dripping from you the minute your bare skin was exposed to the cool room’s air. you let out a gasp as it slides inside you, a gasp that becomes a whine as she keeps going. you feel tears gather in your eyes as she just leaves it there, unattended and stuck in one place.

“here! see for yourself, see it! tell me what do you think?” manic, that’s how she sounds now, absolutely out of her mind as the sweat starts to glow on her face. she grips the handheld mirror, her hard grip visible as she holds it up above you, giving you the perfect look at yourself.

her signature, all over your chest. ellie williams. ellie williams. ellie williams. ellie williams.

ellie’s face contorts with frustration at your silence, “do i need to coax an answer out of you? come on, give me an answer!” she grits her teeth, her other hand coming to take a hold of the sharpie in you. she moves it back and forth, painfully slow until you manage an answer out, your voice sounding so small you almost believe you imagined it.

“I love it, I love it, I love it!” you laugh weakly when you feel her speed up at your words, her face getting redder and redder. she chuckles softly before she brings the mirror closer to you, angling it so you get a better view of your nakedness and the way your cunt practically sucks the sharpie in.

she looks at you as if you are a prize, as if the mirror has finally captured the image that she desired for so long. ‘I won’, her expression proclaims proudly, her grin wide as the room fills with the sounds of the drenched pen fucking your walls. you wince at some spots, a little more sensitive, but her gaze remains steady on yours, never breaking contact. you try to speak, to say something ,anything, but your throat feels tight, your breath short as she discards the mirror, the soft pad of her thumb rubbing circles on the fleshy parts between your thighs.

you whimper quietly, a moan building up in your throat. you could cry if you wanted to, a hot flood threatening to erupt from your body, begging to be released. you bite your lips, your legs tremble, your nails digging into the bedsheets under you as your vision goes blurry. you blink furiously, trying to refocus. she moves to your clit, circling it with her thumb as your entire body tenses. the slick wetness coats her fingertips as she gives you the few last pushes you need to end up on the other side, for the bliss of your climax whiten your vision and everything that she is.

ellie watches you, excitedly, with a fire burning in her eyes that has never burned before. she looks sick, she feels sick, but in the best way possible as you writhe against her hand, trying to get away from the sharpie that is still residing between your clamping walls. she can see the bigger picture now, the light burning on your skin and the dark in that covers your torso, the overwhelming feeling of coming undone, and her ownership over everything that had occurred. she smiles to herself, proud of her accomplishment, but also anxious to finally begin her next piece.

“just one final detail…” it came quietly, murmured from between her lips as she pulls the sharpie from your, flipping in while her free hand comes to push down on your hip bone. you don’t need to guess, you already know what she’s gonna write, it’s predictable from the expression of her face. twisted grin, with flushed cheeks that are not at all red from embarrassment but rather overcome with pure pride, joy, and glee.

ellie williams was in here.

[ametrictonofaudacity]

Gaps 5

Yandere! Platonic! Batfam x Mentally il/Forgetful Reader

Warnings: exploitation of mental illness, depression and self-neglect, forcing the use of medication, manipulation,arguing, implied threats of violence against an animal (DW MOMO IS IN NO DANGER), and captivity and general yandere themes.

Despite what you thought, they don’t hound you twenty-four seven. They are not constantly at your side, are not as close as they normally are. Dick comes around, because it’s Dick and you were normally attached to the hip. Or you had been. Things were different now.

And of course the peace wouldn’t last. Of course the Wayne’s wouldn’t be content to allow you some much needed time to adjust, of course things went wrong. When there’s a quiet knock at the door of your room, you’d stiffened, Momo in your arms.

Tim pushes the door open. It was always Tim, or Damian, or Jason. Dick didn’t really come to see you in the mornings. Not after you’d refused to even touch the food he’s laid out, not after you had ignored his existence the entire time he’d been in your room. As far as you were concerned, Dick was to blame for all of this. He’d had the initial idea to kidnap you, he’d introduced you to his family, he’d been the one to cause your pain.

You shift, fingers clenching your blanket tightly, letting Momo slip out of your arms. She prances up to Tim, rubbing her face against his pant leg, and it makes your heart race in your chest. None of the Wayne’s had hurt her, sure, but she was so little and friendly that it worried you that they would. Tim, thankfully, barely even acknowledges her. He gently nudged her out of the way with his foot, setting down the tray he had been carrying on the bedside table.

“Alfred mentioned that you hadn’t touched your plate. Is the new medication interfering with your appetite?” He asks, and you swallow. You really didn’t want to have your meds changed again. They had just put you back on the prazosin for fucks sake, and you would prefer if you didn’t go back to those stupid drugs.

“Did Alfred mention it or were you just stalking me again?” You mutter, drawing your knees up to your chest. Tim frowns.

“It’s not my fault you keep trying to do something stupid!” He snaps, and it’s defensive. Angry. Maybe it’s because he knows he shouldn’t be doing this. Maybe it’s because he knows he’s in the wrong.

“You barely take care of yourself, (Y/N).” He starts, and he angrily sorts your meds as he does so, fingers flicking through the pills to lay them out. You noticed he did that. Compulsively sorted or organized thing when he was thinking, lips pulled into an angry frown.He continues, ruthless.

“We’ve tried doing it your way. We gave you space, like you asked, and you haven’t eaten. You barely interact with anyone, you haven’t brushed your hair since after dinner three nights ago, and not only that, you’ve barely gotten out of bed. You only get up if one of us make you or if it’s to feed Momo or use the restroom.”

His voice starts to rise in anger, getting loudly and louder as he yells in your face.

Your ears ring. You can’t tell the cotton in your mouth is from disassociation, anger, or sheer, unadulterated indignation. How dare he.

“And who’s fault is that?!” You snarl, pushing yourself up. Tim wouldn’t hit you, you knew. He argued with you, and he was clingy as fuck during the rare occasions you let him touch you or got caught off guard enough to not protest when he initiated it, but never did he hit you.

“You all- I can’t even leave the HOUSE! I can’t do anything without a fucking escort! You watch me through the fuckin cameras, you creeper, don’t think I haven’t heard Jason fucking teasing you for it! You all might not be at my hip all the time, but I’m not stupid enough to let myself even THINK for a second that you aren’t aware of everything in my life!”

You scream.

“You’re so fucking convinced that I am incompetent and stupid, you’re so fucking convinced I can’t take care of myself, that you ruined my life for it! That- I can’t even leave the house, I can’t do anything by myself, don’t think I didn’t notice how literally anytime I walk past the kitchen, someone’s always watching me, this isn’t fucking fair or right, and fuck you for doing it!”

You snarl, and Tim just… stands there. Takes it. He doesn’t argue, which you expect, but he doesn’t apologize, either. You hate that you used to trust him. You hate that you used to look up to him, admiring his wits and intelligence when he had been using those very same attributes to rip apart your life so he and his family of snakes could pick up the pieces and put them back together again.

“I trusted you and all you did was throw my trust in my fucking face!” You snarl. “I told you, how I struggled to remember things! How I felt like I was going insane because my stuff kept vanishing! You offered- you offered to help me search my apartment! Was that just- just another opportunity to stalk me?! To manipulate me?”

Your voice cracks. You weren’t even screaming anymore, no matter how much the anger burns.

“You were right to trust us.” Tim finally says. “I know you don’t like it, I really do, and that it’s not fair, but we’re doing this to help you. You-“

He sighs, running his hand through his hair.

“You haven’t eaten. Haven’t brushed your hair, or your teeth. You’re lethargic. You fight us every step of the way on taking your meds. What if we weren’t around taking care of you? What if-“

He wrings his hands slightly, and you feel a trickle of doubt seep in. He seems to genuinely believe what he was saying. That you needed him, needed them, to keep yourself alive. To keep yourself sane. You don’t know if it’s delusion or paranoia or some other, crippling thing, but it makes your stomach twist with guilt and what might be sorrow.

“Tim.” You cut in, grabbing his hands in your own. His eyes widen, and you worry your grip is too tight from your anger and your desperation to be heard, so you loosen it, slightly. He tightens his grip.

“Tim, I took care of myself for years. And I-“ You swallow, there’s this faint pressure in your eyes that might be the beginnings of tears, but it was something. “- I get I didn’t always do the best job, okay? I get that. But you need to just- you need to trust me. Please.”

You plead, and his face softens, cracks. The anger drains and you feel guilt. What you’re doing, it feels like manipulation even though you know it’s not, and you wonder how the Wayne’s have gotten you so twisted up into knots that even asking for your autonomy as an adult and a person felt like some forbidden thing. You hadn’t even been with them that long. Certainly not long enough for Stockholm Syndrome to occur, and the conditions for Stockholm weren’t even really being met, you were pretty sure.

“I do trust you.” He insists. “We all trust you. But- you need help. Help that you won’t get for yourself and won’t let others get for you. Can’t you just trust us back?” He asks like it’s simple. Like you would want to trust the people who hurt you so totally, so completely, you thought you would never recover. The Wayne’s had been the few people in your life you had sought out, the few people who had been a part of your life, who hadn’t minded your quirks and oddities. They had fit into your life so seamlessly you had nearly forgotten a time they weren’t there, and it had scared you, so you’d pushed them away.

You should have pushed them away sooner.

Your hands go lax, and you slide them from Tim’s grip. There’s a moment where he seems reluctant to let go, before he releases his grip, and you place your hands in your lap.

You were already tired of arguing. The righteous anger had burnt itself out in the face of how sincere he was being.

“Why don’t we get you ready for the day and you’ll feel better?” Tim offers suddenly, like you hadn’t just nearly broken down in front him about being treated as incapable, being treated like a child.

You hold out your hand. He places the pills in them, and you glance down. You consider throwing them across the room again, but last time you had, you had simply gotten the same medication forced down your throat. You take the pills with a grimace, and Tim passes you a glass of water. This, you also resist throwing.

You eat mechanically, the food tasting like ash in your mouth even though you know it probably tasted delicious. Alfred’s cooking always did. When you’re done, you set the plate to the side, and Tim takes it.

“Why don’t you get dressed, yeah?” He asks softly, like you have a choice, and you narrow your eyes at him, silently communicating you wanted him out of the room. He doesn’t budge.

“Hey, Tim, where’s the-“ You jump slightly when Duke pokes his head in the empty doorframe, surprised.

“Oh! Hey, you’re up! Tim said you were having trouble with your hair, yeah? Want some help?” He lifts the comb and strangling brush, a myriad of other things in his arms.

You pause, considering. Part of it was spite, part of it was the fact Duke was asking, and not telling, but you nod, and he beams. He looks absolutely delighted, and he steps into the room after a moment.

“Awesome! Grab a pillow to sit on and let’s get started, yeah?” He beams, setting down his supplies on your bedside table. He doesn’t mention your meds, or the food, or anything else. It’s refreshing.

“Sure.”

Momo hops into your lap, the little opportunist, and you stroke her fur softly as Duke gets everything situated. Tim looks horribly jealous, and the thought makes you a little smug. It didn’t even feel all that petty, given how he had just been practically demanding you listen to him, and Duke had come in, offering you help but not demanding you take it.

Duke’s hands are gentle as he does your hair, carefully working out the tangles, and you hum, leaning back into it. You were still.. wary, you’d be an idiot not to be, but it was a little better with his fingers in your hair and you wanting them to be there.

“Duke?” You say slowly, Momo in your lap.

“Yeah?”

“Why’re you okay with.. all of this?” You start, fingers tapping on your thigh as he works out the knots.

“What do you mean?” He asks, and you wonder if he’s going to play stupid.

“All of it. The kidnapping, the tampering with my medication, the…” You trail off.

Duke sighs. He sounds so much older than he is, and it makes your heart ache.

“I’m not.” He says lowly, glancing at the now closed door Tim had left through. “I understand where they’re coming from, don’t get me wrong but.. it’s not fair to you.” He finished. “Figured I may as well give you some normally.”

You nod, and sigh, leaning against him.

“Thanks.”

“No problem.”

[abyssal-author-and-artist]

oh shit i just realized i forgot to post the trans dipper essay

oh well, better late than never!

Introducing - Why Mason "Dipper" Pines is Trans and Why that Matters - an essay I spent more time on than I did my actual college project today

Mason "Dipper" Pines from Gravity Falls is trans. Trans masculine, to be specific. Do I believe this was intentional? No. Do I believe that there's a seriously convincing case to be made? Fuck yes.

So first off, he's just like me frfr, which is pretty compelling in and of itself. But that's not enough for a whole essay, so we move onto our second point - character designs. Dipper is designed like, well, like every modern-era trans man I've ever drawn who isn't goth. The shorts, the one shirt in the one color, the absolute insecurity. He even does the hunch of the back! Also, I think I heard somewhere that the vest is to make his shoulders look broader, which I'm not entirely sure is canon but I am accepting this whole-heartedly. It's such a trans move of him. He's too young (and it's summer so it's too hot) to wear a dysphoria hoodie so he picked a vest. (I say too young because dysphoria hoodies usually cover your chest and Dipper and Mabel probably haven't hit puberty.)

The second part comes directly from science. According to this article, and many others, sex in identical twins is complicated, but most identical twins will be born the same sex. There are cases where this isn't true (which might be the case for Mabel and Dipper) or they might be fraternal, which is also pretty likely. However, looking at them when they were younger (and listening to their very similar voices), it's likely they were identical and both girls. That's not to say I dislike trans Mabel - every trans woman I draw dresses like her, so I do love her being trans as well and them hitting the age of like. 10. and swapping genders is incredibly funny and adorable to me.

So, we can't reliably use the aforementioned evidence, then, can we? After all, identical twins can be different sexes, although rare, and we don't have any proof they are identical beyond their visual (and when they were younger, audible) similarities. Well, first off, I'd say that's pretty compelling evidence already. In a cartoon, especially one as detailed and beautiful-looking as Gravity Falls (the art is good and I will die on this hill), visual language makes up for a lot. And Alex Hirsh has gone on record saying that he very much wanted Jason Ritter and Kristen Schaal for Dipper and Mabel respectively, to the point where he would have canceled the show if Kristen hadn't signed on, so I wholeheartedly believe every character (with the exception of Grenda and any other characters who had last minute va's picked) had their voice actors picked very specifically. I can't find whether Jason Ritter voiced younger Dipper, though, so that's a dead end.

Now, that's all well and good, but it's a lot of visual language, isn't it? Why don't we move into something more based in the writing itself?

So the first and most prominent example of Dipper being transgender is the episode Dipper vs Manliness. You know it, you probably have emotions on it, it's the episode where Dipper is trying his hardest to be a man's man. The episode was supposed to be about toxic masculinity and how to be a real man is to stick to your morals. It's a good lesson and in my opinion, holds up even in 2024. Pretty good. Does a great job of what it wants to do. Now, Dipper vs. Manliness has been dissected to hell and back already as a transgender allegory, so I'll keep this brief: the episode centers around Dipper being mocked for not being manly. While Mabel and Stan still see him as a man, albeit an effeminate one, it gets to Dipper. He proceeds to do anything to prove himself a real man. If viewed as a trans allegory, Mabel is teasing her brother and not realizing how deeply it actually hurts him (whether accidentally because she fails to realize how insecure he is over it or because she hasn't been there before, depending on how you want to headcanon it). As for Stan, I like to pretend he's supportive but regularly forgets Dipper was ever a girl, so he makes a serious slip up because of that (and/or he's regurgitating stuff said to him. That hits harder if you also headcanon trans Stan, which I am warming up to). Dipper proceeds to try and prove himself a man, crying when he takes even one more blow to his self esteem/sense of identity as a man, and eventually gets comfort from his family when they realize just how BADLY they messed him up. He is affirmed as a man and the episode ends. Everything that can be said, has been said - including that you don't have to act toxically masculine - or even masculine at all - to be a real man. Remember this part, it will be important later.

So, other trans moments for Dipper come a little sparser. Dipper vs. Manliness is the example for a good reason. But still, there's other moments. The short Voice Over from one of the short story compliation episodes is another one that's commonly referenced as a metaphor for voice dysphoria. Yes, Dipper's voice is cracking in ways common for a cis pre-teen boy his age, but the pitch and tone of his voice can also be seen as his more feminine voice peeking through. Taking the potion can be seen as taking testosterone or other hormones. Granted, this falls apart when you consider that Dipper is later discouraged from taking the potion, because that could be read as Dipper being discouraged from transitioning, but on the other side of the spectrum, it could be read as Dipper being affirmed as a real man despite his voice. From that perspective, his family prevents him from taking (possibly dangerous) homebrewed hrt. Also, the euphoria he gets when it does change his voice is just. Absolutely adorable.

Now, my favorite resource for Dipper acting trans is in the episode Headhunters. He's asking Manly Dan questions and Manly Dan calls Dipper a girl. And MAN the discomfort on Dipper's face. He immediately attempts to correct Manly Dan, but is shut down and the episode moves on. I think that for such a short moment, it does a good job of making Dipper seem trans, though. He is called a girl and feels extreme discomfort around it. He does not like being called a girl. He is not a girl. But he's not shocked or surprised or even really offended - he's resigned. He's used to being called a girl. Sure, he hates it, but he doesn't cry or scream or anything. Sounds to me like a trans man who's absurdly used to being misgendered but still hates it. That pain never goes away, but sometimes all you can do is flinch in discomfort, try to correct and move on, like the episode does.

For a (mostly humorous) video of more of Dipper acting trans, check out this video.

So I think we've made a pretty compelling point for Dipper Pines being trans masc here. Looks pretty good, yup, this is a great essay, let's wrap it up. Oh? What's that? The name of this essay?

Why Mason "Dipper" Pines is transgender and why that matters.

Well, let's dive into section two of this essay - why does Dipper being trans matter?

Someone could easily say it doesn't matter. Just fun fandom headcanons, that's it, wrap it up now. Nothing more to say. Dipper is trans and that's just a fun reading of his character.

But I don't think that's the case. I think that Dipper being trans means so much - to trans fans of the show, to fans who have never seen or spoken to trans people before, and to queer fans of Gravity Falls and similar shows. (I personally am a Steven Universe fan who really valued the representation there, so Gravity Falls and all it's queer coding means a lot to me.)

First and foremost, I'm not going to keep you in the dark as to why you're remembering my earlier point. As a recap, it was this: Dipper vs. Manliness, and by proxy, Gravity Falls as a whole, says that you don't have to be traditionally masculine to be a real man. For a show that spends a lot of time mocking a kid commonly headcanoned to be a trans man, that says a lot, and a lot of stuff I think more people need to hear.

You do not need to act like your gender to be your gender.

You do not need to present like your gender to be your gender.

You do not need to fit some rigid box that society enforces to be who you are.

If you are a man, you are a man, trans or cis, regardless of how you act. (And the same goes for women and nonbinary people! You don't have to fit a mold.)

You don't owe anyone anything.

You don't owe people masculinity. (Or femininity or androgyny for that matter.)

I think that's part of the reason Dipper vs. Manliness ages so well. Dipper reads as trans, especially to queer fans, and his story in that episode tells us that we don't have to be someone we're not for people to take us seriously as who we are. At the end of the day, the really masculine thing is staying true to you - a sentiment echoed and reversed in The Last Mabelcorn, where the most feminine thing you can do is to stay true to yourself. I can't find it right now, but I could swear that there's a That GF Fan video explaining my point a little better. The point is, there's nothing that makes you more of whatever your gender is than staying true to yourself.

Additionally, if Dipper really is trans and someone sees themself in him, that can help them explore their gender or explain it to other people. Young kids who have never interacted with trans people before can see Dipper and grow up to connect the dots - or grow up to have him crack their eggs.

I know I'm new to the fandom and I was already out before watching the show, but he really helped me explore my gender. I like dressing like him - he's very relatable, even though I'm old enough to be in college now. I see him as a very anxious, slightly paranoid trans kid, and I see a lot of myself in him. He has a lot of issues, and a lot of issues that aren't trans specific but definitely hit harder when you are trans. He makes me feel seen on a level that I never thought a cartoon character could do.

Honestly, here would be a good place to put a rant about representation in kids media - queer kids under the age of 12 exist and struggle. I liked a girl (before realizing I was trans) in fifth grade, so about 9 years old. There are kids who experiment with their gender when they're younger than that. We're here and we exist, and every single time a character in children's media is made and is prevalent, another kid is able to really see themself.

That's really the point of this section. Dipper is trans. That matters. People - mostly queer kids but people of all ages - see themselves in him. He's here and we see him as queer because it's validating. It feels so good to hear Stan affirm him at the end of Dipper vs. Manliness, because it proves that at the end of the day, you don't need to present as super masc or femme or androgynous to be who you are.

Gravity Falls, through coding Dipper as trans, sent a message:

You are seen. You are loved. You are valid.

Thank you for reading this all. Trans Dipper means a lot to me, and I love writing him and seeing him in general. I want more of him because Dipper being trans means the world to me.

I love you all. Have a wonderful day. Remember to stay true to yourself.

[foxconfessorandthewolf]

Okay, so I’m a bit wine drunk but I don’t think I’ve ever really articulated why I love Snarry together and I’m currently trying to finish a fic after taking a three-year-hiatus from writing these two, so this is probably a good exercise!

I’m a bit on the older side of fandom, having been a fanartist and fervent reader since 2003, so my connection was really sparked during that time between OOTP and HBP when Snape and Harry were at some of their most clashing and deeply vitriolic, forced together into hateful vulnerability by Occulmency lessons. Every scene between them was electric, laced with tension as we truly did not know how things would go, or even where Snape’s true loyalties lay. He was an unknown, tied up with Harry’s own family’s mysterious past, connected to Harry in a myriad of odd ways that few other characters were, and - as a rivals-to-lovers lover - I was fascinated by him. From that first moment when they lock eyes in the Great Hall and that frisson of pain shoots through Harry’s scar, I desperately wanted to know who the hell this man was and his story. I think a lot of Snarry shippers come to the ship with a special appreciation for Severus Snape’s character himself. He’s such an incredibly drawn character, rich with complexity, complicated and pretty fucked up, with clearly-held passions, hatreds, weaknesses, and motivations. He’s emotional in a way a lot of other characters aren’t, though I think he’d loathe to hear that. And his character voice! It’s unique and pitch-perfect. You always know exactly who is speaking with his lines. Honestly, the way he evolved from a spy/traitor stock character to become so multifaceted and enigmatic is a masterpiece of characterization, and it’s an aspect of why I’m drawn to him - there’s still so much about his origins and well, what his damage was, that we don’t know. Because of this, I especially love Snarry fics that delve into character studies of him, trying to explore all the shadows left behind. I also admit I have a preference for interpreting Snape as morally grey. I like him petty, sharp-tongued, ambitious, with an incredibly liquid definition of what is right and wrong. He’s self-interested, dripping with disdain, and really doesn’t see that as a problem. What happens to him when he deeply falls in love?

I love a ship that makes me work for it. There’s no obvious line of how Snape and Harry might wind up together, so each fic is a wealth of possibilities of bringing these two together despite their roadblocks. As I mentioned, I’m big fan of animosity in a ship. Give me rivals, give me enemies, give me the sparking passions, the sharp fury, the way they stoke each others’ emotions and seek to hurt, the racing hearts, the raised hackles, the intense emotional reaction to another person. Just throw it at me. I devour that shit. I love the messy and taboo nature of their relationship, the complications raising from their age difference, temperaments, and largely similar and shared traumas. There’s an interesting element of Snape being a foil to James Potter, and how that relates to Harry and their past. Basically, this shit is really good potting soil for incredible fucking fics, packed with nutrients.

The shared natures of their traumas, like Voldemort and each being forgotten and abused as children and how they might be able to understand each other and bond from it is also something that’s fascinating to explore. I love when a writer pushes on Snape’s bruises, looking to make them hurt, cracking his sardonic brain open and rooting around in there, and I love when they compare and contrast to Harry’s. There’s a seductiveness to how Snape is so obsessed with Harry, fixated on his Boy Who Lived heroic reputation, clearly dripping with envy. What, beyond jealousy, might draw Snape to Harry and what, other than hatred, might draw Harry to Snape?

It’s all this, the passionate, electric, dangerous nature of their relationship; the way their characters contrast each other yet have surprising connections; and the question of finding solace that keeps me here, 21 years later. I’ve had wines less complex than this ship. They’re fascinating. They’re messy. They’re everything.

[crossposted from a reddit comment I just left, and wanted to share with y’all]