#and i'd hate to just reduce him down to his looks

[le-velo-pour-dru]

Btw I think it should be said that iDKHOW/The Brobecks/Dallon himself have more worth to me than just my crush on Dallon!!! I promise!! ;w; Like yeah, I post about that all the time, cause to be honest it's a pretty big crush and I think about him a lot, but I like him and his music for more reasons than just "I'm attracted to him". I've been an iDKHOW fan for a little over a year, and this whole crush thing only happened a few months ago. iDKHOW and The Brobecks are incredibly important to me, they're my favorite bands and the music they've put out is just so good and so phenomenal and it makes me so happy!!!!! They're freakin' amazing!!!!! And even if I didn't have this huge crush on Dallon, I'd still absolutely love him as a person :) He's a crazy talented musician and songwriter who clearly knows what he's talking about when it comes to music, he's really funny, he's super sweet, and he's just really chill and cool and charismatic!! I have just endless amounts of respect and admiration for him and what he does. Okay, I'm done now, I just really wanted you guys to know that XD

[crimsonbubble]

nah fr because ever since yunho said he likes his name being whined, I can't stop thinking about it and how pervy he actually is-

he'll probably be into choking (I mean, his hands are perfect for it), he'd loveeeee being rough and filling you up so he can fuck back whatever cum leaks out of you 🫠

don't get me started on how he loves having you ride him or his face, and having you lay flat down on your stomach so he can fuck you and hit the right spots EVERY. DAMN. TIME. and you being a whiney mess for him so he'll just chuckle to himself and fuck you-

yeah...and I'd love to support him under the desk when he plays valorant so maybe he'll get mad at me if he loses and fuck the shut out of me 🫢

cw. nsfw, gn!reader, mirror sex, fingering, overstimulation, dacryphilia, slight mean dom yunho, slight perv yunho *not proofread, just pure horny

[hi, welcome back to another episode of tumblr user crimsonbubble losing their mind over a 25 year old, 6'3, veiny hand having, golden retriever gamer boy. 🎉🎉]

I can't even begin to tell you how often I think about his hands. When I made my last post about yunho, good lord 😮‍💨😮‍💨

But the one image that stayed with me was being placed in his lap while he was facing the mirror. He's got your legs hooked on either side of his own, keeping you on display while he teases you over and over.

Watching his fingers descend your body just to trail back up when he's close to where you want him to touch you. Makes you keep eye contact with yourself in the mirror or he stops touching you altogether.

He's just gently teasing over your hips, watching you hopelessly buck your hips to gain any friction. Yunho just loves to see you like this; a pitiful mess, just for him to see. He loves how easily he can reduce you to tears and jittery moans as he grazes his hands all over you.

God, he fucking loves to see you cry. Don't get him wrong, he hates seeing you upset but seeing your pretty eyes glimmer with wet tears and watching them cascade down your face, has him harder than diamonds.

And he loves squishing your cheeks together and making you look at him. He loves it when tears fill your eyes bc you're feeling so overwhelmed by his sharp gaze but also the intense pleasure he's giving you.

He loves making you cling to him. Making you feel so good that all you can do is wrap yourself around him and dig your nails into his shoulders and back.

Last note; pervy bf yunho would be a pantie stealer/sniffer

[guccifrog]

WRONG NUMBER FINAL

matt sturniolo x f!reader

some of y'all bout to be real mad at me :3

y/n's pov

I let out a sigh, as my eyes scanned the ceiling, I felt like I was suffocating under the weight of misery. The cold bed sheets beneath me were like a prison, binding me to the spot, it was then that I realized I had been lying there for days.

The past few days had been like shit for me, that even the simple act of standing up seemed like a difficult task. I couldn't take Matt out of my head. That it was starting to hurt even worse now. I missed him, I missed us. I missed whatever we had going on, I missed his voice, I missed him holding me close to him. I missed everything about him. It was like a piece of my heart had been ripped out, leaving a gaping hole that nothing could ever fill.

God I hate it when I can't get him out of my head. It's like he's become some sort of drug I can't get enough of. every time I close my eyes, all I see is his face. It's been days since I last talked to him, but I just couldn't bring myself to answer his texts. I knew if I did, I'd just end up saying something that'll just regret later.

My head pounded in agony as I sat up, the room spinning wildly around me. I felt nauseous and weak like I could barely stand on my own two feet. I slowly crawled my way to the bathroom, every movement making me wince in pain.

 Once I was in there, I stood in front of the mirror and stared at the poor reflection looking back at me. My eyes were dull and lifeless, my normally pale skin now a sickly shade of gray. My hair was a mess, tangled and greasy from not bothering to wash it for days. I looked like death warmed over. It didn't help that my reflection seemed to mock me. I didn't recognize the person looking back at me anymore. I felt like I was some sort of shadow of my former self,

I stared back at myself. It's not like I was some sort of prize or anything special. He'll get over it, eventually. But the words seemed hollow even to my own ears.

I ran my hands through my hair and took a deep breath trying to calm down, but it seemed to only make things worse. 

I turned away from the mirror, unable to look at myself any longer, climbing back into bed, pulling the covers up over my head, and trying to shut out the world. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't escape the feeling that I was slowly drifting away from everything that had once been familiar and comforting.

It wasn't even that big of a deal, why was I feeling like this? I'll get over it soon, right? It wasn't like it was the end of the world or something. But still, the pain didn't seem to lessen, it felt like someone had carved out my heart and stomped all over it. the truth was, I was scared. Scared that this was how it was going to be from now on.

I couldn't eat, I couldn't sleep. I just lay there, staring at the ceiling, willing myself to feel something else. But all I felt was this aching emptiness, that made me feel like I was floating in the void.

 His face kept creeping into my thoughts, his voice echoing in my head. It was like I couldn't escape him, even when I was in the middle of enjoying something else.

My brain refused to process anything else. I couldn't focus on anything else. It was like my entire world had been reduced to just one person, and now that he was gone, there was nothing left. I felt so empty. Like a shell of the person I used to be.

I needed to get out of the house. I needed some fresh air, some time away from everything that reminded me of him. I got up, threw on some clothes, and grabbed my keys. I didn't even bother to brush my teeth or wash my face. I just didn't care anymore.

matt's pov

I sat on my bed, my head pounding because of how much I was overthinking. I shouldn't have rushed things. I knew it the moment I had kissed her. I had been so sure that she felt the same way I did, but I guess I was wrong. How could I have been so stupid? Why did I have to ruin everything by acting on my feelings?

I threw myself back on my bed, the pain in my chest growing more intense with each passing second. What was wrong with me? Why did I always have to screw things up? It wasn't just this, it was everything. I couldn't seem to get anything right. And now I'd probably lost the only person who really understood me. It was like a physical weight pressing down on my chest, making it impossible to breathe.

The hours dragged on as I lay there, staring up at the ceiling, replaying everything over and over again in my head. I needed to talk to her, or to hear her voice at least, and to somehow make things better. But how could I do that without making it worse? I didn't want to lose her, but I knew that I had to call her eventually.

With a heavy heart, I reached for my phone, staring at the screen for a moment before dialing her number. Again. And again. And again. But each time, the phone rang and rang without anyone picking up.

 I was beginning to feel like a pathetic loser, calling her over and over when she clearly didn't want to talk to me. I should just accept that I had fucked things up and leave her alone. But I couldn't help but hope that maybe, just maybe, if I called one more time...

My finger hovered above the green "call" button, hesitating for a moment before I finally pressed it, Maybe she'd pick up, and we could talk about what had happened. Maybe we could find a way to make things right again. Or maybe, she'd just hang up on me, and I'd be left here, feeling even more shitty than before.

"hey bitch, I'm probably sleeping or re-watching my little pony or maybe I just don't wanna answer you, just leave a voice message even though I'm not gonna listen to- beep"

Oh. Well, I guess I'd better leave it at that then. I hung up the phone, feeling more miserable than ever. I had hoped that maybe she'd want to talk to me, but I guess not. I sighed, rubbing my eyes tiredly. Maybe I was being too hard on myself. Maybe she just needed some time to process things.

But again, I needed to talk to her, I just couldn't help it. I was sure I'd go insane if I didn't, So, I did the only thing I could think of, I quickly got up, grabbed my jacket and keys, and headed out the door. 

If I wasn't able to talk to her on the phone, then maybe I could just go see her in person. Maybe she'd be more willing to talk to me if I was standing right in front of her.

I drove to her house, my heart pounding in my chest as I passed through familiar streets and landmarks. I couldn't believe I was actually doing this. What if she doesn't want to talk? What if her parents answered the door? What if she didn't want to see me at all? The uncertainty was killing me. My brain was a mess, trying to think of every possible outcome, every possible scenario.

I decided to stop at a flower shop along the way and buy her a bouquet, just in case. I wanted to look like I was just bringing her flowers as a friend, not like I was some desperate ex-boyfriend. I didn't want to make things any more awkward than they already were.

As I pulled up to her house, my heart was racing, my palms sweaty. I took a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves, and then stepped out of the car, making my way up to the front door. 

Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe I should just turn around and leave. But it was too late for second-guessing now. With a deep breath, I lifted my hand to knock on the door. 

No answer. I knocked again, a little louder this time. Maybe she was in the backyard or something. Maybe she was just taking a moment to herself. I tried the door, but it was locked. I knocked again, this time a little more frantically.

Nothing. There was still no response. I knocked one more time, just to be sure, but the silence that followed only made my heart sink further. With a heavy sigh, I leaned against the door, feeling like an idiot for even coming here. What had I been thinking? That she'd just open the door and invite me in like everything was okay?

I looked down at the bouquet of pink tulips in my hand, feeling ridiculous for even bringing them. Maybe I should just leave them here on the porch and leave, but something held me back. I couldn't just walk away without at least trying to talk to her. With a deep breath, I took out my phone and dialed her number, hoping she would pick up this time. After what felt like an eternity, it rang...and rang...and rang. No answer.

"Excuse me ?" 

I looked up from my phone, startled by the voice. Standing in the driveway was an old woman, probably in her late seventies or early eighties. She was wearing a floral housecoat and a pair of reading glasses perched on the bridge of her nose.

"Um, hi," I said, a little sheepishly. "I was looking for...um, is y/n here?"

The old woman looked at me with confusion, before widening her eyes in realization" You mean the young lady who lived here? Oh dear, she would usually greet me every day but I haven't seen or heard of her in days, I'm assuming she moved out"

Her words hit me like a ton of bricks. No, that couldn't be it.  

"You must be her...friend?" Her voice trailed off, her expression gentle and sympathetic.

"Um, yeah," I replied, my throat feeling tight. "I mean, I was"

The old woman must have sensed my discomfort because she put a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "Don't you worry, dear. Sometimes people need time to themselves, and they find it in the most unexpected places. You never know, she might just be around the corner, waiting for you to find her."

Her words were meant to comfort me, but they only seemed to make things worse. I wanted to believe her, I really did. But the feeling in my gut told me something different. It told me that I might have lost her, and that this time, it might be for good.

With a heavy sigh, I thanked the old woman and made my way back to my car. As I drove away, my eyes stung with tears.

I tried to distract myself with music, and the scenery around me, but it was no use. The image of her face, the way she looked at me when we were together, it was burned into my memory.

Maybe this is a sign, that I need to move on. To accept that whatever we had going on was over and focus on my own life. But how could I possibly do that when all I could think about is the way she used to laugh at my jokes, the way she would pout and frown her eyebrows playfully every time I teased her. Those memories are engraved into my brain, and I don't think they'll ever fade.

 I didn't want to let go. I didn't want to forget about her. But what choice did I have? Could I keep living this way, constantly thinking about what could have been, and what might never be again? I couldn't. I had to find a way to move on.

I pulled out my phone and scrolled through my contacts, debating whether to delete her name or keep her in my life like a constant reminder of what I'd lost. In the end, I decided that if I wanted to truly move on, I needed to let her go. So I deleted her number, her email address, and even blocked her social media accounts.

I had to accept the fact that it was over and move on. It was the only way I could possibly heal. Even If I cared- no, loved her with all my heart, there was no point in holding on to something that wasn't there anymore. I needed to let go and find peace.

 It was a bitter pill to swallow, but it was one I knew I had to choke down.

the end

jkjk 😆

2 years later

y/n's pov

"Hey! Stop" I yelled as I watched my dog, pepper, run with my phone between her teeth. She darted around a corner, out of my sight. I sighed, running after her, just as she disappeared around another corner. 

"Pepper, come back!" I called, beginning to lose patience. I turned the corner and saw her sitting in front of our front door, her tail wagging excitedly, I breathed a sigh of relief and walked over to her, bending down to pick her up. "That's a good girl," I cooed, kissing her head. As I stood back up, I glanced down just to find my phone shattered into a million pieces on the ground.

 "Oh no," I muttered, "I guess that's the end of that." I sighed, knowing I'd have to save up for a new phone now. I picked up the pieces of my phone and stuffed them in my pocket, then reached for the doorknob, and entered my house.

I needed to tell my mom, or else she'd get worried. I knew she had an old phone lying around somewhere. I went to her room and started searching through her drawers, looking for the phone.

 After a few minutes of digging, I finally found it, buried under a pile of old magazines and makeup. I smiled to myself, feeling relieved that I had found it. I quickly grabbed the phone and went back to my room, shutting the door behind me.

As I sat down on my bed, I inspected the phone more closely and realized that It was my old phone, the one I had before I got my current one. I powered it on, relieved to see that it was still working. 

Luckily I didn't have a password set up on my old phone, so I was able to use it right away. I immediately went to check my contacts only to find that all contacts I had were just numbers now. 

I didn't recognize any of them. "How did this happen?" I wondered out loud, as I dug through the rest of the phone, looking for any clue as to who these people were or how I had gotten their numbers. After a while, I came across a number that looked exactly like my mom's. "That must be it," I thought to myself, before clicking the message icon and started typing.

THE END ☆

HEY OML U MADE IT TO THE END OF YHE STORY 🤩🤩🤩🤩💯💯💯 but anyways I just wanna thank u all for sticking around (corny ass zay) I'm so so So so grateful for all of the support y'all gave me to continue this shitty ahh series it really makes my day everytime I read u guys's comments I love u all fr muaaah 💕

taglist ☆

@mattestrella @chrisfavoritepepsi @sunsetsturniolos @littlebookworm803 @sturniozo @sturniolooooo @athaliahxoxo @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @ev3rgreenxtrees @nonamegirlxsturniolo @crybabycat1 @mooniethesimp31 @ducksturniolo @ifilwtmfc @pepsiimaxx @sleepysturnss @lustfulslxt @ilovemattsworld @hrt-attack @flowerxbunnie

@secret-sturniolo @iluvmeeen @that-general-simp @swangelss @familynotfandom @fuckshitslover @styles-sturniolo @lvr-111 @opheliaofficial07 @kiarastromboli @hearts4chriss @braindead4l @sturniolosreads @mattsturnzzz09 @itssophiasstuff @mayhem-72 @b2cute @buckys-celestes @4iriss @bitterspoons

[catmelonwriting]

Sucking off big brother!Fyodor

Warnings: Incest, this is written terribly, toxic!Fyodor, fem reader

Characters: Fyodor Dostoyevsky

Translations: малышка = little girl

A/N: idk I have so many prompts I'm supposed to be writing and want to be writing but I just don't jave the energy I'm hoping this will wet my appetite or wtv

You lay lazily on the bed half asleep, It was mid July, and the heat was making you drowsy. You were supposed to be reading due to your brothets orders, but gave up & into your fatigue, resting on your bed in your day clothes, not even bothering to change. You were suddenly startled awake by a scoff and Fyodor speaking. "Clean up this room, малышка. It's disgusting in here."

His voice was degrading and he stared down at you with a glare. Your room wasn't even that bad! Just some clothes lying around, but to be fair.. he did own the house. "I don't wanna..." You groan, your voice was raspy. Your eyes flutter open to Fyodor standing directly above you, his hand resting on your bed frame.

"You don't have a choice, малышка." Fyodor smirked, knowing how much you hated being called that. It made you feel small, and weak, but no matter how much you told him you hated it, he kept going. "Clean up now, or I will make you regret it."

"Make me regret it if you're so tough, then." You grin, sitting up and crossing your legs, placing your elbow on your knee and your cheek in the palm of your hand. "If you don't clean this room within the hour, you'll be doing something much more unpleasant."

His eyes narrowed and you grin. "Awh, tell me, exactly what will I be doing?" You'd always had an attraction towards him, and he's known. You'd expect him to be disgusted by it, but.. "You'll be sucking my cock until I'm satisfied, малышка." He said casually, as if it were nothing. "And trust me, I won't be gentle about it."

Your stomach flutters, and despite the disgust and fear you felt.. you couldn't help the arousal that dripped from your hole. You needed to appear confident, and unbothered. You hated Fyodor seeing you as weak. "Aw, well maybe I'd prefer that." You grin, dropping to your knees in front of him.

Fyodor raised an eyebrow, surprised by your sudden change in attitude. He stepped closer, allowing you access to his pants. As you undid his belt and pulled down his pants, revealing his hard cock, he couldn't help but feel a surge of arousal. He grabbed your hair, guiding her head towards his member.

All you could do was giggle, giving a tiny little kitten lick to the tip of his dick, dragging out a hitched breath from him. You do nothing more for a minute, only kissing and licking the tip, before he grew impatient.

He huffs, before he yanks your head back by her hair, forcing you to take him in. You gagged as he filled your mouth, the pain causing small tears to well up in your eyes that you immediately blink away. He began thrusting his hips, fucking your mouth roughly, enjoying the sensation of the warm wetness of your mouth enveloping him.

You moaned onto his dick, licking a fat strip up the bottom of his shaft as he face fucked you, letting the tears fall only because you knew how much he loved reducing you to a crying mess.

"Ah.. you're so good at this, myshka. Keep going, go on." He groans, drawing your attention up to him, he loved how pathetic you looked down on the floor, tears falling from your eyes, ruining your mascara. As his climax neared, you felt his thrusts get sloppier and harder till his hot cum filled your mouth.

He pulls out, tapping your mouth so you stick your tongue out. Proof you swallowed, of course. "Good girl.." he drawls out, looking at you with that sadistic smile he always has. "Now, I guess I should repay the favor now, hm?" He smiles, crouching down in front of you.

[haeryna]

megumi x reader arranged marriage au but make it the scene from princess monoke where you've got your knife to his throat, except tears are running down your face. you should kill him, and yet as he lays in the grass in front of you, dark blue eyes watch you with nothing but tenderness. as calloused hands reach out to cup your face. nimble fingers smooth away the tears that trickle from your eyes. your hand is shaking. both of you choose to ignore it.

"you're beautiful," he tells you, and the knife drops from your hand harmlessly into the grass of the meadow. you're sitting on his chest, pinning him down. it must hurt by now, and yet his other hand reaches to steady your body, warm assurance resting heavy on your hip.

your trembling hand reaches for the knife again. you know he sees it, but makes no move to stop you. he can see the question in your eyes, fragile and terrified.

"if i were to die at your hands, i can think of no better way to go," he tells you, and as you pull your hands to your face to sob bitterly into them, he sits up. megumi tugs you towards him, tucking your face into the curve of his collarbone as you weep.

"please trust me. i'll take care of you," he promises earnestly. he presses a single tender kiss to your forehead when you gaze tearily up at him.

"i can't," you hiccup. "i-"

"i know," megumi tells you, holding you close, because he does. even through the stubborn anguish, he's never stopped watching. you're beautiful when ichor splatters against the wall from your blade, as red as the blood you manipulate through your veins. you're beautiful when he noticed the pain in your eyes that one time the barista asked for his number in the cafe near the tokyo station. you're beautiful as you demurely wear the kimono your family picked out for you to meet naoya zenin, which clashes fiercely with the hatred in your eyes. at this point he can't tell who you hate more. he hopes it's naoya.

(he thinks of the way he struggled to swallow, to breathe, when he saw you in that kimono. he dreams that you let him take it off you as he kisses every scar on your skin.)

"you can't," you're trying to tell him, saltwater clinging thickly to your eyelashes. "i'd rather die, megumi."

"i know," he repeats, tilting your chin up with his hand so you can see the serious look in his eyes. the zenins wanted to cage you, keep you as a shell of yourself, reduced down nothing more than a mother at best. megumi wants to set you free.

(even if you hate him? even if he'll never be able to tell you he loves you, forever doomed to a loveless union, a marriage only by name and nothing else?)

red ichor. iridescent tears. moonlight, and the dark of night. you are the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. he knows you're the most beautiful thing he'll ever see.

"i know," megumi says, one last time. his heart catches in his throat. selfishly, he pulls you closer, taking in the scent of your perfume, and the shampoo you always insist on buying from kyoto. the moon shines on, and for a moment, he allows himself to wish.

someday, i'll tell you how i truly feel. but for now, please, just stay by my side.

[necroflame]

Hell is Other People – Dark!Rafe Cameron x Reader

Summary: As the night draws to an end, so does the last semblance of your freedom.

Warnings: Implied dv, possessive behaviour

🦇gill – "Wanted to post a little something so this drabble is a filler between my next longer fic hehe, happy valentines! 💘 (or not if you're in the same boat as me lmao)"

Why are you still here?

It was well into the evening and the venue only continued to grow more compact and cacophonous. The hors d'oeuvres now lay cold and discarded atop the piano case and the fizz of your drink was reduced to a dull static that weighed heavily on the base of your stomach.

By now you should be retreating to someplace quiet. Preferably four white walls where he could do as pleased without the watchful eyes of Kildare and you could finally drop your shoulders and rest. 

A phantom ache blossoms throughout the ligaments attached to your wrist as his grip tightens elsewhere. 

Rafe hated these gatherings, so then why are you still here?

As if the cloud of your confusion drifted over to him, he glanced down at you with a small smirk – knowing – rubbing his thumb over your waist. He smelt nice tonight, a faint musk that reached some deep, primal part of you. As his dynamic maw descended upon your neck, you resisted the urge to nuzzle into those well-built arms, capable of much more than lifting heavy weights and rocking your feeble body to sleep. 

Had it always been this hot?

“What's that look for?" His derisive tone was buried beneath a playful lilt. There was something unspoken, a cryptic message for you to decipher; 'you're much prettier when you smile.' 

The man he was speaking to now shifted his focus to you. He looked to be in his mid-fifties, suit tailored to accommodate an impressive beer gut that threatened to pop the seams of his taut trousers. He took your hand, sincerity flashing across his muddy irises. His fingers were soft and unmarred in comparison to Rafe's calloused skin. 

You did not recognise this man at all. 

“Charlotte and I were worried when Rafe told us you’d been unwell," Why didn’t you reach out, then? "But I must say, you look rather radiant tonight."

“That’s very kind of you.” A squeeze, warning. “I’ve been feeling much better recently, Rafe always takes such good care of me."

You patted his lapels, glancing up in search of approval. He simply pursed his lips– a promising sign –and his chest rumbled in praise when you planted your supple lips to the corner of his mouth.

Something was very wrong. 

This was confirmed by Topper and Kelce who were acting just as strange as the man beside you. They remained seated at the round tables adjacent to the polished floor, mingling with a few Kook women you knew had a penchant for trouble and powdery substances. When his piercing blue eyes pinned you from across the room, Topper sent you a wink. 

"Rafe—."

You were cut off by the echo of a silver colliding with glass. Ward made his way onto the small podium, garnering the attention of the entire room.

"Rafe," Your voice reduced to a whisper, desperate for him to assuage your brimming anxiety, but even still he shushed you, gaze not once faltering from his father. 

"Now, I'd like to applaud everyone in this room for a fantastic effort tonight," Your glossy eyes flitted around desperately. It was as though everyone was in a trance, and a sheen of confusion ebbed over your frame. Could they not sense something was wrong?

"With your help, we were able to raise just under five hundred thousand dollars for the Safe Horizon Foundation, which is just outstanding."

The room erupted into applause. 

"Think about all the women and children, potential victims of the future, you have helped save!"

Another wave of claps, this time more ferocious. Rafe's grip tightened, hauling you into his side. Your hip made contact with the jagged edge of something– sharp and painful – and you hissed. 

"But there is another big announcement to be made," 

A twisted grimace contorted your features as you glanced up at the blonde who was now staring right back at you. The glint in his eyes was a familiar one; haughty, revelling in victory and gloating in his ownership of you.  

“My son…” Ward's speech was drowned out by the stutter of your heart as it did frightened little flips beneath your ribs. It was as though your blood had mimicked your state of shock, frozen in panic and struggling to course through your veins.

Rafe reached into his pocket, removing a sleek black box. It was simple in its design, not overly flashy but very telling. 

“I’ve been thinking…it’s about time we got married.”

All focus shifted to you – don't forget to smile – and he tore himself from your desperate clutch. The crowds parted for him as he trekked toward the podium. 

“Come up here, son.” 

He threw one last look over his shoulder, a final dig at your impending defeat. I won, it said and you'd never been much of a believer in fate until it stared right back at you.

[starfxkr]

Can we have some gentle jj and kitty?!

Read that post and I need

-🛸🛸

(Hey girl it's been a minute lmao)

for you my love i'd do anything

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊˚⊹꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊˚⊹꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊˚⊹꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊˚⊹꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊˚⊹꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊˚⊹꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊˚⊹꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊˚⊹

you'd been fussy all day--a throbbing migraine kept you curled up in a ball in the passenger seat, reduced to nothing but moral support as jj drove around getting supplies.

he hated seeing you like this even for something as mundane as a migraine, so the second he was able to he took you home, laying you in bed plying you with cold water until your feverish body cooled and you pawed at him to soothe a different ache.

"nuh uh, you just started feeling better just relax." jj tried to distract you by peppering kisses across your face but that just made you burn hotter, looking at him with round, pitiful eyes that made he melt, "nope, don't do that, s'not fair."

your pout deepens, "how am i not bein fair?"

he doesn't respond, not with words, but with a soft groan as he gives in to kiss your soft lips, shifting your body under his until you were cocooned by him and the surrounding pillows, looking like the spoiled kitten you were, "i just cant say no to you huh?"

there's no hiding your pleased smile when he pulls your shorts down, his mouth flooding when he spreads your legs and sees your plump lips already glistening in anticipation.

"alright, time to dig in." jj narrowly dodges the plushie you lob his way and pushes your legs to your chest to open you up more so he can dive in, spreading your lips to gaze. you couldn't help the soft gasp that exited your lips when he leaned down to press a soft kiss to your clit.

he doesn't waste time, dragging the flat of his up the length of your cunt just to feel you shudder. the soft feel of his lips had you melting into the bed--jj swirled his tongue around your clit, sucking the sensitive bud into his mouth with a gentle pressure that made more of your sticky arousal trickle down to your ass cheeks.

an almost imperceptible shift of hips caught your attention, and you gently thread your fingers through his hair, lifting his head to see him flushed, eyes hazy and lips shining with you as his tongue wanders aimlessly in search of you again, "jayj, are you okay? do you wanna-"

jj cuts you off with a sucking kiss to the tender flesh of your inner thigh, shaking his head at your statement, "don't worry bout me doll face, just let papa take care of you."

"oh-" you edge off into a pitiful whine the he puts his lips back on you with more fervor this time--sucking and kissing and licking your wet cunt until you could do nothing but dig your heels into his back, panting and moaning.

any other man would likely feel pathetic with how easily he got off on this, but jj never ddid, whenever made it a secret that he can and very often did cum just from eating you out and he was well on his way now, his leaking cock trapped beneath his body as he pressed his face deeper into you with wet, sloppy sounds, wrapping his arms around your thighs as you began to whimper and cry when your started to cum in waves--your clit twitched under his tongue and you struggled to fight him off in your increasing sensitivity. it felt like it took forever to fight him off as he chased every last drop of your cum until he shook with a strangled groan and spilled into his shorts.

you're both panting when he's finished, and you were already half asleep and looking at him through half lidded eyes when he kissed you, licking into your mouth so you could taste yourself.

"better?" jj gently pinches your cheek with a grin.

"mhm, don't you wanna-?"

he shushes you, trailing a finger over your bottom lip knowing you were halfway out on consciousness already, "just sleep, pussycat. you need it."

[ticklishprincey]

Can you make lee!vox ler!velvette?

Your wish is my command, lovely anon! Pairings: Lee!Vox & Ler!Velvette Warnings: Tickling, teasing, slight angsty Vox bc it's Vox come on, swearing (lmk if there's anything else) ✰✰✰ Vox sat at his desk, staring at his multitude of screens with an unamused look on his face. These moments were rare, where he had nothing to do but stare into the void and wait for something to happen. His fingers twitched, digging into the soft leather of his chair in an effort to stimulate his nerves. He hated these moments. He felt useless. He felt restless. He spun around in his chair for what seemed like the hundredth time in the past hour, looking around once more when his phone rang. He picked up almost immediately, happy to have something to occupy himself with. "Hello, my dear Velvette! How are you today?" The younger demon scoffed over the phone at his politeness. "Get down here. Your suit looks like shit." Now it was Vox's turn to scoff. Did it really look that bad? Sure, it had a few rips and tears, but that was all character! However, debating this with the fashionista didn't register to him as the best idea. He sighed, agreeing with Velvette and making his way down to her studio, greeting her with a big (albeit forced) smile. Velvette looked at him up and down in distaste. "Get over here. I need your measurements." Vox sighed, stepping onto the platform and following Velvette's instructions as she measured him, mumbling to herself and occasionally writing something down. It wasn't too unbearable, just annoying. That was until the fashion star's fingers brushed against his hip. His whole body jerked away from the touch as a startled glitching noise slipped out. "The fuck was that, Vox?" He flushed, trying to pass the glitching off as a cough. Velvette looked up at the taller demon, realization setting in as her previously worried expression turned smug. "No. Fuckin. Way." "Vel- Vel, we can talk about this-" Vox stepped backwards, stumbling off the platform and scrambling back to his feet. The younger demon smirked at his efforts, grabbing his hands and wrestling him to the ground, pinning his arms above his head with a sadistic grin that sent shivers down Vox's spine. The television demon held back the anticipatory giggles as best he could, but couldn't stop the red seeping onto his screen. Velvette smiled fondly, straddling him hips and digging her fingers into his sides. "ACK! V-Vehel! Wahahait!" He mentally cursed himself as the giggles made themselves known, squeaky and high-pitched as his usual shit-eating grin turned into a wobbly and giddy smile. His attacker cooed at the sight, moving up to his ribs and drilling her fingers into them, earning a squeal followed immediately by frantic and bubbly laughter. She'd have a field day teasing him about this later. "Tickle tickle tickle, Voxxy~! Better keep this under wraps, sweetie, wouldn't want the other Overlords to know you can be brought down with just a few pokes." "$Ŧض Ŧ@℅ŁꝀƗNǤ!" Velvette giggled, enjoying her usually stoic and big-talking friend being reduced to this. However, she knew it was about to be time to stop. She grinned, before going in for the kill. She pulled up Vox's shirt and proceeded to blow a raspberry on his hip, sending the television demon into hysterics. "V EL! SHI-" An error noise, then his screen went blue and his body went limp. "𝚅𝚘𝚡.𝚎𝚡𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚗 𝚎𝚛𝚛𝚘𝚛. 𝙿𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚢𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚖." "Well, shit-"

✰✰✰ I'd like to say for the record that I had to rewrite this piece of shit twice because Tumblr did not want to save. You're welcome.

[cerridwen007]

Icy Hot.

Images above from pinterest are for aesthetic purposes only*

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader (afab)

Word count: 1.4k MINORS DNI!(18+)

Summary: Javi finds a new, interesting way for you to cool down during a hot Colombian day.

Notes/warnings: SMUT, temperature play, toys, inappropriate use of ice cubes, Javi being a cheeky menace, body worship, male masturbation, javi picks reader up but he is a strong boy and can pick up any one, probably bad spanish, swearing, no y/n.

A/N: Wrote this months ago but couldn't be bothered editing it again till now so here it is finally. I live in the southern hemisphere so now and especially at the time of writing this, it was stinking hot, which of course prompted the idea. Any interactions with my posts are appreciated, hope yall enjoy. love ya!

*********

It was a scorching hot Sunday afternoon in Bogotá; Columbia, a rare day off for both you and Javi that was usually spent out and about hanging with friends, cleaning the apartment and spending some quality time with each other. But unlike those others treasured Sundays, absolutely nothing was being achieved by either of you today. The both of you were sprawling out in your underwear on the couch. A situation that usually would've prompted some very heated activities, but both of your brains seemed to have been fried and groggy from the sweltering temp in the apartment.

The windows were shut to keep out as much of the heat as possible and the nasty flies that came with the summer heat. The dusty old fan beside the coffee table did next to nothing in cooling you down, instead pushing the hot warm back onto you. You looked over at Javi, leaning back into the couch, legs and arms spread out as he leans on the back of the couch. God, he looked so delicious even in these circumstances.

A drop of sweat beaded at his temple and fell down his jaw and neck. Licking your lips, you could almost taste the salty taste lingering on your tongue. You sighed, knowing getting handsy right now, as tempting as it was with such a handsome boyfriend who looked extremely hot right now would only make you even more overheated. You lifted one of your hands to help fan yourself, a feeble attempt to take your mind off the heat, uncomfortably sticking like a second skin to all of your body.

Javi, on the other hand, was thinking about how he could cool you down. He hated seeing you so tired and exhausted from the heat, a nice Sunday spoiled by the overbearing heat of Columbia. Suddenly, it hits him, a wide smirk spreading on his face before he can stop it. Luckily, you're too buzzed out to notice. He quickly sneaks off to your bedroom to retrieve something.

You, a curious creature usually would have immediately wondered what he was up to but right now you couldn't care less with the humidity causing your skin to glisten with salty stick drops of sweat, and your brain reduced to mush, you were unable to give much of a second thought to his actions.

You close your eyes as the heat brings you to a light sleep but manage to pick on some muffled noises of Javi mucking around in the kitchen. After a few minutes, but what seems like hours in your disoriented state, Javi tip toes behind the couch where you are resting and reaches out to trace an ice cube along your collarbone.

Your body jolts, unexpecting of the drastically different temperature melting down below your neck. Your eyes flick open, eyebrows automatically raising to question what the hell on earth Javier was doing.

"Relax Hermosa, just thought I'd try something different to try and cool us down."

He reaches his palm down, cupping your face, doing his very best puppy eyes to try to convince you to let him try out his idea. Biting your lip, you tried to hide your grin. Javi smiles deviously, knowing you better than yourself, that you are already sold on the idea. He walks around to the front of the couch, popping one of the ice cubes in his mouth and grins.

He straddles your lap, you almost whine feeling his already hard cock, pressed up against your aching core. He presses his lips to the side of your neck, instantly creating goosebumps throughout your body. Your body arches into his as his icy cold lips trace down the curves of your sticky body. He reaches behind you and carefully undoes your bra behind your back, throwing it to the ground, revealing your swollen nipples.

A deep groan arises from the back of his throat as he watches a droplet of water melt between the valley of your breasts, his pupils double in size, transfixed by the sight before him. The ice cube now fully melted leaves his tongue still cold as he attaches his lips to the painfully hard peaks on your chests, making you moan loudly. His eyes go between closing in bliss to looking up at your beautiful features. His hips subconsciously grind into yours, further prolonging the aching of your clit.

Your fingers dig into Javier's fluffy hair as the heat begins to overcome your body again. You whine feeling a need for more and because of the discomforting heat.

Seeing how your body was both warmed up and cooled down he withdrew his lips from your nipples and placed a few kisses down your stomach before getting up off the couch to go and retrieve something else from the kitchen.

"Close your eyes, mi diosa." He softly tells you.

You swallow harshly and close your eyes, gut swirling with anticipation of what Javi had in store next. Before your brain can wander, you feel a very cold large object touch ever so slightly to your clit through your panties, the action making every single inch of your skin immediately flare up in goosebumps again, eliciting a soft whine to fall from your lips. Which earns a chuckle from Javier. Your eyes open slowly to find a smirking Javier sitting on the other end of the couch with one of your old toys.

"Javi...?" You ask breathlessly.

"I know, I know I've said I like to be the only thing to satisfy your needs, but I obviously couldn't put my dick in the freezer." He jokes.

You smile wide, but before you can respond he quickly wips your underwear off as he places the tip back onto your clit and slowly drags it downwards through your drenched folds.

"Ffffuck..." you moan.

"I'll get there, don't worry, sweetheart." He winks.

You exhale a breathy laugh that turns into a moan as Javi continues dragging the tip back and forth through your lips, catching on your clit with every motion. You weren't sure what had come over, Javi. He usually wasn't so playful in the bedroom, but you didn't mind it one bit.

Keep his eyes transfixed on your body, studying every inch like a painting. He palms himself through his black boxers. He nudges the tip of the dildo at your entrance, holding it there. You squirm trying to push it inside you, desperate to be filled by something. 

"Please.....Javi..." you whine weakly.

"Dime que lo quieres, dime cuánto lo necesitas." Javier whispers, as he slowly pulls himself out of his draws and strokes his length. His eyes roll back as his head falls between his shoulders from the feeling after depriving himself for so long. But he soon forces himself to look at the pure desperation on your face.

"Please.....fuck please Javi...need it so bad...please just give me something... anything." You plead , begging as you try and grind upwards, seeking some stimulation.

Javier swallows deeply, feeling his cock ache from your words. 

"Fuck mi vida, look so fucken pretty when you beg for be me."

You gasp as he quickly slips half of the dildo deep into your heat. The cool silicone easing the fiery walls. Javi spits on his tip and begins furiously stroking himself, trying his best to match the same pace as he fucks you with the pink toy. Within minutes, both of you are reduced to a whimpering mess.

"Mmm this pussy is all mine, ain't she?"

Before you can respond, he reaches out to stick his thumb in your mouth. You quickly take it, sucking harshly, leaving it covered in spit. He groans, watching you, pinching the base of his dick to keep from coming just yet.

He resumes his original plan and brings his wet thumb to your throbbing clit. Circling it gently just how you like it.

“Need you come for me sweetheart... come for me." He moans.

Your hands fly out and grip Javier's veiny forearm to anchor yourself to him as your high overcomes you.

"Oh...ffffuck...Javi..."

He fucks you harshly with deep fast strokes through your high, mimicking his own strokes as he begins to reach his climax.

He comes onto your thighs and mound before collapsing his upper half on your stomach.

You smile at him, eyes peeking open at his messy, post sex hair. You reach out and swipe it out of his face, scratching his scalp.

"Mmmh, feeling cooler yet, amor?" he asks.

"I mean, I did, but now I think it's time for a cold shower so we can really cool down."

You wink.

He grins widely, chuckling as he picks you up, throws you over his shoulder and carries you to the shoulder. It was going to be a long hot night, in more ways than one, but at least Javi reckons he saw some ice blocks in the freezer earlier…

*************

Translations: ‘mi diosa’ - my goddess

‘Mi vida’ - my life.

‘Dime que lo quieres, dime cuánto lo necesitas’ - ‘Tell me how much you want it, tell me how much you need it.’

************

[thatgayguywholikesyourcontent]

My Problem with Pryor

I love X-Men '97, don't get me wrong, but as a Madelyne Pryor fan it irks me how they handled her. You have to understand that in the comics Maddie was her own person until she wasn't. She just so happened to look like Jean Grey. When Scott fell in love with her, he kept second guessing himself if he was falling in the love with Madelyne or the memory of his deceased wife. Marvel wanted Jean back and Scott back on the team, but Maddie and her child where in the way. Long story short: they did a "gotcha" reveal that Maddie was a clone concocted by Sinister to get a Grey-Summers child after he heard Jean died.

A lot of shit happened because Marvel wanted their flagship couple back together, and Maddie as a character was a casualty of it.

The comics have very recently addressed within the last few years addressed the whole post-inferno Maddie thing. People have differing opinions how the pulled off. I have my own personal opinions myself.

Then 97 comes out. Madelyne happens and you'd think I'd be happy seeing here, right? And I was until I wasn't. Looking back on the season after watching the finale I started to see some, uh, takes on Maddie, Jean and their relationship with Nathan that I don't agree with. To each there own. Understand that I don't blame people for having them.

I blame the show.

Cause the Maddie I saw wasn't Alaskan pilot Madelyne Pryor. The writers reduced her to the thing the comics made her: a clone. And we can argue back and forth of when the switch happened, the value of personal experience, and how all the blame for a shitty situation falls on Mr. Sinister.

I hate what they did. Not just because I disagree with it, but how many people read the comics? Go back and read the older stuff? This show introduced plots, characters, and concepts distilled and whittled down for a TV audience. For a lot of people this is their introduction to Madelyne Pryor and the message is clear. She's just a clone.

And, you ask, "well, how should they have handled it?" The thing is, they shouldn't. Maddie, her conflict and death, wasn't necessary. Jean was alive, Sinister could've just snatched her baby, but I guess the writers wanted to have their cake and eat it too. Want drama between Scott and Jean? Well, we could do the cheating plot with Emma but the show's continuity hasn't set it up. We want do stuff with Cabel, but Nathan is born after Jean's death. What to do? Oh, I know! Bring in Maddie to cause a temporary rift between jean and Scott cause we're just going to kill her to not only give Nathan a tragic backstory but tension between him and Scott.

The show's treatment of Madelyne Pryor reflects what the comics did to her. Not the tragedy of stripping a mother away from her child and person hood, but a plot device so Jean and Scott don't have to take a hit.

Cynical? Sure. This is a vent. What did you expect.

Am I being unfair to Jean and Scott? Yep, but its not an issue of poor writing. This was an intentional choice the writers made.

Am I worried about fans of Jean, Scott, and Nathan disagreeing with me? Well, why would they? Haven't you listened to what they've been saying? Nathan's practically Jean's son. Maddie would've wanted Jean and Scott to be happy.

She's just a clone.

A Jean they could spare....

[muzaktomyears]

February 1970 "Yeah, sure I know John thinks we hate her and that we're all a bunch of two-faced fuckers running around behind his back sniveling and bad-mouthing her, sticking pins in our homemade Yoko Ono voodoo dolls but you know and I know what's happening and that's not happening at all! No one in this building hates her. Hate! That's a very strong accusation and an extreme assumption. I can't say as I blame him for thinking that sometimes, but the reason he feels that way is because we don't love her. That's the truth. I'd be a liar if I said we love her but we certainly don't hate her. If anything, we've just always wanted to get to know her better. It would be a welcome relief to walk into a room just once empty-handed, without an amplifier, without a cup of tea or a press cutting, without a list of people who want to interview them and a mouth full of questions. Just to walk in with yourself, that's all. But we're all so insecure and afraid of our status in their eyes that we need all those fucking props! It's a bad gig being a rich man's slave. We can't get to know her or them any better because we've passively accepted the roles that have been assigned to us and mindlessly act them out. Yoko's a Beatle now and that's that! She's achieved Beatle status around here and there's nothing more intimidating than that. I know it's not her choice but it's the reality just the same. When you hear the girls saying, 'Oh I can't stand her, she's so difficult to please, so impossible to get on with--' you know where that's at! It's the slave's backlash, it's chicks being catty, it's their safety valve for letting off steam, but there's no real malice behind the words, there's no real substance to any of it. It's just talk to relieve an oppressive situation and they're not easy people to work for. The pressure is mammoth and we've always moved at seven hundred miles an hour and everything is always wanted right now! So naturally everyone is very freaked and hypersensitive. I mean, how much more can we give of ourselves than we're giving now? What's expected of us that we're not doing? I'd like to know where all these so-called groovy people are that would do a better job than we're doing. Where the fuck are they? The truth of it is we can't love them twenty-eight hours a day, always, every day, every week, every month of the year because we've got our own grubby little lives to attend to. OK, so we're not as blessed as they are but what do they have that we don't besides beauty, immense wealth and talent and charisma? A little compassion is needed for the less exceptional specimens of this world, for all those not so fortunate people who didn't get a chance to walk down that one-way street called Success. The tragedy of this whole fucking thing is that we're all cut off from each other by the myth, by this cancerous charisma. It stands right in the way of everything and it's reduced us to puppet in this asinine charade of bootlicking, and both sides know it. Well, we've got what we fucking deserve! We wanted to be in on this trip, to be here while it was going on and this is the price we're paying now. This is the creation. We've kept the afterbirth and thrown the child away. Fame? Look what it's done to us all. Fame? What a cruel, squalid joke!"

The Longest Cocktail Party: An Insider’s Diary of The Beatles, Their Million-Dollar Apple Empire and Its Wild Rise and Fall, Richard DiLello (1972)

[bonefall]

What irritates me so much about the Leafpool and the three situation is: it's Starclan's fault. It never had to happen in cannon. Squirrelflight isn't barren. If the Erin's wanted drama, they could have made the three Ashfur's, and had Squirrel pretend they're Bramble's. I'm glad in BB you made her barren, but it still just irritates me. Leafpool got done so dirty. If I was in her paws, and after Bramble had me forcibly step down, I'd ask someone to honor sire (maybe from a different clan?) kits for me then look Bramble straight in the eye as I started showing.

It's one in a long list of "retcons that happened to reduce the agency of characters because the warrior fandom will otherwise find any reason to fucking hate women." I don't believe that Po3 was written with the revelation of Leafpool's Wish in mind.

(leafpool's wish is where the "barren/StarClan telling Squilf to take the kids" Thing comes from)

In fact, most books that come out seem to completely forget the detail. Squirrelflight's Hope doesn't mention it. Bramblestar's Storm totally omitted it. Squirrelflight is never pissed that StarClan literally lied to her.

So it makes it really feel like a less egregious version of Spottedleaf's Heart; a poorly thought-out addition specifically aimed at the fandom misogynists who write screeds about how Brambleclaw/Thistleclaw Were Good Actually and their shitty behavior was just a Bad Woman Who Wronged The Poor Babies.

AND to be clear what I'm getting at with this comparison is that both these books are awful, because they're cowardly. They don't stick to their guns and say, "BLUESTAR AND SQUIRRELFLIGHT WERE RIGHT TO MISTRUST THESE MEN BASED ON THE REASONS THEY HAD." They badly retcon in EXTRA reasons for them to come to the conclusions they did.

They concede to the fandom misogynist. Their existence agrees that the original reasons they had were weak, so the writers shoveled in extra horseshit to make them "more correct" to do what they did.

"Don't worry guys, it's not that Squirrelflight took her sister's children to protect everyone involved, and that she's right to mistrust her mate who trained in HELL and never revealed any of his own secrets until his shitty half-brother killed her dad once. Nope! God lied to her and told her to. Told her she was barren, even. Now Squilf can remain morally pure while Brambleclaw abuses the shit out of her. Soblem Prolved."

So like... I don't even think that they should have been Ashfur's. This worked perfectly fine as it was in Po3. Just commit, assholes. Bramblestar's an untrustworthy piece of shit. Condemn him for turning on his children, confirming every terrible suspicion Squirrelflight had. Point out that the Three get treated differently when the secret comes out. Ask what, exactly, Leafpool could have done differently and have people have different opinions on this.

but like. keep squirrelflight being barren :/ Please let women just be unable to have kids sometimes. Please.

[irritablepoe]

what do other people get wrong about poe?

YES MORE POE QUESTIONS!! :D thank you anon, you're really given me all the excuses to ramble lmao

tbh there are not many people on here that get him wrong, at least i haven't seen much? though ofc there are other websites *looks at tiktok with squinted eyes* that reduce him to being a sugar daddy boytoy, which... i mean it's funny. but it's also not everything that he is obviously, especially bc i don't think poe really has a concept of money tbh? like i think he has ridiculously expensive essential things (i say essential but i mean i don't think a mansion is particularly essential lmao) and he also buys things he considers important to show off his abilities, like for example the manuscript, but looking at the anthology (which isn't canon but lets pretend it is for a sec) he only has limited clothing and other than many other rich people would he doesn't just hire someone to get them for him yk? (he also lets mori pay i think right? lmao) in conclusion - he spends his money, yes, but he's not throwing it out the window (debatable tho, i'd call 20 mil a waste but he can do it ig?), nor does he spend it much on his own needs.

many people also forget that yes, he is whiny, but he is also extremely dangerous! his ability could trap nearly everyone and make them defenseless! even chuuya spends a while in poe's book and he's highly capable and intelligent! ranpo was near giving up! this is extremely important to his character and a severe bruise on his confidence! i think many forget that

he is a skilled snipper, can replace a car engine (bro watched one yt tutorial and rolled with it i'm so sure about this) and ofc he is a detective and a writer that impressed ranpo (and can also write a mystery in around 15-30 minutes) and is ALSO the architect for the guild. so. yeah. he's multi-talented as shit, i think people should appreciate that more

also (this list is never gonna end lol) i think people mistake his anxiety in social settings for being shy and i just.. don't think he is shy per se? he's quite boastful when it comes to his writing and his ability that comes with it and on the perfect crime trio case he had no problem at all speaking in public and even with the police. i mean an anxious person that would be worried about how he was perceived he would be worried that he'd be found out to be a criminal which he IS, but he just is so sure of himself that he's left no traces that he's just like "*shrug* yeah that happened, anyway, how are you officer? :D" not quite like that ofc but yk i just think he's more anxious in the way that he hates groups of people bc they overwhelm him quickly in regards to noise and conversation (especially small talk i'd guess) and that he just thinks many people he doesn't take interest in are annoying? that might be a lil controversial opinion tbh but i'll gladly remind you of this panel:

(i couldn't find the official translation help)

tho i also have to say that he calls himself shy here so could be both idk:

hm, yeah i think that's it for now. in relations to ranpo i don't like how people sugarcoat them a lot tbh, i know i've said it before but this really bugs me, like yes they're getting along quite well but i wouldn't call their relationship healthy at all? at least not yet, though i can see that it could work very well eventually. i think poe is doing all these things gladly for ranpo but ranpo has to open up way more and tell poe that he appreciates him, like please, this man is so down bad for you. also pls communicate so that poe doesn't lose himself in his obsession, this can't be healthy come onnn, bro has isolated himself for yearssss

yep, i think that's it, ty anon!!!! <33

[spittingbloodandscreaming]

Hear me out about a Masc!Reader breaking down in front of Masky and Masky just doesn't comfort them and is more like "This is your own fault"

I love silly angst ideas, have a great day/night!!

I LOVE this!! Sorry it took me so long to get to this, I kinda took an unannounced break, but I'm catching up!! I hope I captured your image.

You can never tell the truth, But you can tell something that sounds like it. (Tim Wright x Reader angst)

The sounds of the party are muffled from the porch, but still, it’s somehow impossible to tune out. You almost feel ill. Staring off into the tree line and leaning against the banister, you flick the ashes of your burning cigarette. Your half-empty cup of whatever you were given when you walked in sits next to you on the railing—you almost feel bad for walking out, but for some reason, you can't bring yourself to go home, either. The heavy footsteps behind you throw you off your sulking.

“Didn’t know you smoked.” You roll your eyes. You know Tim when you hear him—gruff and tired. You understand why he’s out here—same reason you are. Neither of you actually want to be at this party, you both just want to feel like you’re doing something. You take another long drag off of your cigarette.

“You’re one of the last people I want to see right now, you know that, right?” You cover the quiver in your voice well, but not enough for Tim to miss it. He walks up next to you, standing a little less than a foot away, leaning with his forearms against the banister. You glance at him, and you’re almost sad he wasn’t looking at you too. He’s so close you can feel the warmth coming off of him, and you realize how cold it is. You wish he was closer, but you want everyone close to you now, don't you?

“I know.” Tim takes his cigarettes out of his pocket, lighting one himself and struggling briefly against the wind. He’s the closest to crying he’s been in weeks—or is he? He doesn't remember the last month. It smells like rain, the air is heavy and damp, and you wonder if the covered porch is enough to keep you dry. Then again, you could just sit in your car, but you realize you don't have that option. You only stop thinking when you feel a drop hit the back of your hand. Your cigarette is reduced to just the filter and it's raining. You look over to Tim, and this time, he's looking back.

“Drive here?” Tim asks, stifling a cough. You shake your head, looking back out to the trees.

“Live right down the road, I just walked down.” You take a sip of your drink and grimace—whatever it is, it's trying to be a mimosa and failing terribly. Tim says nothing. No one says anything for a long time.

Eventually, the wind picks up, blowing the rain into your face leaving a cold sting against your cheeks, and you start to cry. You cry hard, almost a violent sob. It takes you several minutes to notice that Tim is looking at you—has been looking at you—and quickly you wipe your face with your hands like a kid. You start to say the same things as you did when you were young, too.

“God, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I didn't mean to start crying I just feel so bad.” Tim keeps his blank expression as you sharply inhale after you're done speaking. You realize then that you've been holding your breath. The man across you says nothing, and so you keep talking, trying to explain away an unexplainable guilt you have for crying. “I didn't think I'd be here, y'know?” Your voice has raised a few octaves now—high pitch and uncomfortable. “I thought I'd be in college, I thought I'd be with someone… engaged, even. I don't know what happened things just went so downhill after high school—I couldn't do it anymore. I can't do it anymore. I hate my job. I hate all of it. I'm nothing I thought I'd be. I just—”

“Why are you telling me any of this?” Tim says, the wind moving his hair around just a bit. The rain blowing under the cover sticks to him in cold drops. You try to speak, but you can't come up with why. Why are you saying any of this? Why do you feel the need to tell Tim?

“You don't need to tell me any of this. I don't care, you know that.” Tim speaks so blankly and you wish he didn't. You wish he was angry. You wish he cared enough to feel something other than annoyance as he speaks to you. “All of this is your fault. You had every choice to change where you are now, and you didn't make any of the right ones. That's not my fault, it's yours.”

All you can do is stare at Tim with years pouring down your cheeks. You're not sure the last time you've had someone talk to you like this. When you were a kid, maybe as late as high school. You're grown now, you should be able to handle it, but you can't even bring yourself to breathe. You feel so sick and cold and scared.

“Some people are in situations they didn't put themselves in, that they had no choice in, and can never get out of.” There's aggression in his voice now, and it's so clear he's talking about himself. It makes you cough through another pathetic, guilty sob. “But that's not how it is for you. So shut up, okay?” The hand he's holding his cigarette in is clenched—crushing the filter between his fingers. How could you think any of this matters? Why would you think anyone actually cared to hear what you have to say—you do have it better than everyone else, don't you? All of this is your fault. You could've fixed it at any point, and you didn't.

“You did this to yourself.”

[pretty-boy-streaming]

For Science (Nakahara Chuuya)

TV-MA: fondling, touching, kissing, ftm!reader, dazai!reader (you're his younger bro), borderline nsfw (might as well be nsfw)

summary: chuuya read online about a way to prevent breast cancer and just wants to help out his boyfriend.

"Hey, I wanna try something out."

You turned, but before you could see your boyfriend, he grabbed your chest. You rolled your eyes and grabbed his wrist.

"What exactly are you trying out, Nakahara?"

"Oh come on," He kissed your cheek. "Don't 'last-name'-zone me."

You pulled off his hand and began walking to your desk, bending over to show off your ass. "You grabbed my boobs, in the fucking Detective Agency with my brother in the other room, dumbass." You sighed. "What did you want to try out?"

"Well, I read that playing with your boobs can reduce the chance of breast cancer."

You looked up at him. "Were you just trying to find that?"

"Oh, no. I was just looking through information and I learned that. And I wanted to see if it's true."

You stood up and walked over to the door before making sure it was closed and locked. "Hmph."

"Are you agreeing to my experiment?" He smirked. "Darling, did I manage to spark something in you?

"I suppose... you did." You walked back over to your desk and sat on the desk. "Well then, Nakahara..." You unbuttoned your shirt and pulled up your binder. "How about you help me out, yeah?"

Chuuya smirked at you before pulling off his gloves and stepping over to your desk. "Don't mind if I do, darling." He leaned in to kiss while reaching up to grab at your chest. He pulled away and muttered, "This is fine, right-"

"Nakahara, I swear to god, if you start asking this is fine right now, I will pound your ass into oblivion."

He kissed you again. "You act like I'd hate that. I actually kinda like the idea of you topping."

You rolled your eyes. "Jackass."

You two kissed again while he squeezed your boobs, and you giggled, falling back on your desk, pulling him down.

---

"Heeeyyy, Kunikida... have you seen my brother?"

Kunikida's eyebrow twitched and he sighed. "I think he's in his office. Chuuya went to visit him, though."

"Wait, he what. Why'd you let him pass?"

"Because he didn't seem to have ill intent and when your brother saw him, he told Chuuya to go into his office."

Dazai frowned deeply and walked over to your office. He was about to knock on the door, but he was interrupted by various moans and groans.

"Fuck- you're so soft-! Dammit- oh fuck yes!"

"C-Chuuya! Harder- god- yes!"

Dazai covered his ears and groaned before walking away. "God, I hope Chuuya leaves soon."

[aita-blorbos]

AITA for trying to kill a child in a time loop?

This isn't really something I want answers for, since I already know I am. I just really need to get this off my chest.

(note: this is a rewrite of a submission i've already done)

So... for context. I (12M but I was reincarnated) used to have the ability to play god... I could turn back time, start a completely new timeline, and different things would happen. A lot of the times though, I'd find everything that... 'route' had to offer and I'd just be bored.

So, this time I let the timeline go on for a little longer without interfering with anything. (Well, mostly everything. I still decided to be friends with the tall funny skeleton in Snowdin, like in all the routes I had did.)

A human (12NB) fell down. I thought... maybe I could take their soul and then go up to the surface. (Monsters, the species I used to be have been trapped underground for at least over a thousand years.) But then, my mom protected them. She doesn't know who I am, but I feel kind of resentful. Does she really hate me that much to replace me with another kid? This isn't the first time she's done this, too. Later, I discovered that they took my ability to have control over the timeline, which I got pissed over.

Later, the human would leave the ruins. They would enter an area, leave an area and then repeat. At some point, they reached the king of all monsters... my dad. They fought him and once he was weak enough, he started talking about his family and stuff... and he said he would take the human in as his child. Once again, my parents seemed eager at any opportunity to replace me.

So I killed him. Not for replacing me, but because he had 6 other human souls I could use to get to the surface. But first, I wanted to experiment. Nothing was ever new in my timelines, but then the human came and everything started feeling like an experience. A real experience. I wanted to see how'd they react to certain things, what outcomes could happen.

But I was a bit mad at them for taking my timeline powers away, so when I got them back, I tried to put them in a loop where they died over and over again. But then, the other 6 souls rebelled, and I was once again, reduced to a flower.

Later, I decided I would use them to gather all the monsters in one area, because all monster souls = 1 human soul, and 7 human souls makes you a god. So I did that.

When I got all of the souls, I returned back to my self before I died. I put the human through a death loop again, but then... they called out my name. My REAL name. I'm going to be honest, I thought they were my dead best friend. It's been so long since I've seen them, I just wanted them to be back.

So... I started crying. I realised what I was doing was wrong, and I stopped trying to harm the human. I apologized, (They surprisingly forgave me) broke the barrier between the surface and underground, and freed monsterkind.

Looking back at all of this, I started to realise more and more how... MESSED UP the things I did were. I'm trying to get better, at least.

Well... AITA?