#be more chill self insert

[mkaroy]

school sketches basically

[puffpawstries]

you guys wont believe what brain rot is coming back....

so gonna update this blog a bit now

[the-travelling-bitch]

FUCK I WAS NOT EXPECTING MORE SCARA SMUT JEALOUS SCARA HOLY- HIS PARTNER IN THE MODREN AU IS KINDA A TEASE AND SNARKY BACK, YOU KNOW THEIR GIGGLING AND LAUGHING BACK JUST SO SCARA MAKES SURE EVERYONE KNOWS WHO YOU BELONG TO

me: *tossing out scara crumbs like they’re bread* eat up, you thirsty people

the way i envision his partner, they’re not exactly the type to flirt back bc they’re in a relationship, they can get dick whenever they want without being inappropriate, yk?

they are, however, absolutely the type to tease him about getting jealous; if you’re home and scara is huffing and puffing about getting jealous, what’s more fun than pushing him down on the bed, keeping your hand on his chest as you smirk down on him? sure, you’re currently the one on top but it won’t stay that way for long if you keep riling him up like that

all of a sudden, he has a brat to take care of…

[tsukimisou-shoutsuyori]

Murder drones sona (sorta)

[lynkolnevans]

Boo!

You just got trollsona'd!

[kakusu-shipping]

Is there a dedicated Splatoon X Reader blog somewhere out there this is incredibly important

[thebleedingeffect]

You see, I think the backstory for my self insert just got alot more fucked up,

[somekindofloser]

I relate to Jeremy because I too have voices in my head

[moonsaver]

A dance, A death, A dream,

for humanity slumbers for the final rest, and dreams after the final rest.

➸ On the neverending stage of Penacony; there lies a mysterious masquerade that serenades those whose dreams stretch further than the expanse of the night sky. In this masquerade, the marble floor extends infinitely, and the windows are dimly lit by the full moon. Several hands extend to you. Whose do you take?

➸A/n; NOT IN CHRONOLOGICAL ORDER AS TITLE SUGGESTS. my writing's gotten a bit rusty, and this is majorly inspired by the Acheron and Black swan dance. Please read it with a grain of salt. 2.2k words. Yandere themes, gn reader but they're implied to wear heels, so just yassify your self insert. Bad writing because I've been out of it for so long.

—————

A death

Scars, calluses, and a plethora of secrets remain buried on and under the skin of Blade's hand. He gently and firmly guides you out of your seat, and into the centre. The grip of his hand is firm on your waist, and the warmth seeps into your skin.

“I've seen you, many, many times..”

He whispers into your ear, as the music begins. The rasp of it sends chills down your spine, forming a few goosebumps along the way.

“We've scarcely met.” You reply,

“In my dreams.”

You stay silent. He continues,

“The long thread of destiny lingered around you. Our souls were tied.”

He turns you, and pulls you in again, your back pressed to his front. He leans down in an instant and whispers into your ear again,

“You waited for me.”

The clicks of your heels coincide with his agile footwork.

Blade remembers the same dream, played over and over in his mind. The bite on your jugular, the hand over your nape, the red blood staining his teeth like wine.

“You didn't leave.”

Your heart picks up. You close your eyes for a momentary relief that never comes. You feel your body tense, and your lungs slightly constrict.

“I.. didn't mean to.”

His grip only further tightens on you, and he pulls you in closer. The spinning almost leaves you dizzy, or perhaps it's something else?

“You left. Intentions seldom matter.”

“I know. I'm sorry.”

He stays quiet. His hands make gentle work, and gracefully guide you through the steps.

“those threads.. all came together and formed a tapestry of us.”

There were a multitude of them, although more monotone in nature. White occasionally graced the vibrant red thread, but was sooner stained with a murky black the further it went, infecting the red with its impurity. The vibrancy dimmed to a dull, dreary maroon.

“Some of them..”, he continues, his rough fingers snake around your wrist, bringing it up to his lips, where he tenderly kisses the inside, “..were tied around your wrist.”

“Around your waist..”

You turn again, your back presses into his chest momentarily,

“Braided into your hair,”

He pulls you in, leaning close into your face, to the point your noses almost touch,

“..wrapped around your throat.”

To you – it's like the dance halts for a moment. Something wrong happens.

His tone is warning, bubbling over the edge,

“You were mine.”

He turns you again, and roughly pulls you in, knocking your breath out of your lungs. Your shocked eyes meet his.

“You are mine.”

Your heartbeat thumps loudly in your ears. Blade pushes you around, almost mocking the gentleness and grace the dance is supposed to exude, stripping it of it's vulnerability like the harsh snap of a bear trap over the tender leg of a rabbit,

“I've pined, longed and stained you. I've ripped you apart and put you back together. Do you think it matters whether you left intentionally?”

Your lungs struggle to fill completely, you almost stumble from the harsh and swift movements Blade forces you through, and you stutter trying to get any word out, 

“Yingxi–! Wait!”

He pulls you in one last time, your face buried into his chest,

“You can not leave. Not anymore.”

The music halts to a break.

The dance stops.

His breath fans over your neck, the constricted space between you two rebounding the warm air. His teeth graze your jugular.

“Our flesh is tied. Struggle all you want, but we are intertwined further than dried blood over a wound.”

And this is how it is meant to be. Your hand on his weakness. His mouth on your heart.

The music starts again.

—––––––

A dream

Sunday's familiar gloved hand wastes no time wrapping around yours. He flashes you a smile as you give him a look.

“There are far too many spectators present tonight.”

You sigh, and smile.

“Of course. I'll do my best.”

“Thank you. As will I.”

His hand settles on your back, settling into the slight curve, and you straighten up, muscle memory kicking into action.

“Tonight's crowd mumbles and scatters to mystery as a moth akin to a flame. Dreams are not enough to quench their curiosity.”

The dance starts, and you relax after the first few steps, synchronising effortlessly with him,

“However, tonight's realm extends far beyond a dream.”

This was new.

Sunday always answered your questions about Dreams in a shapeless, vague manner. He often said it was to protect you.

This time, it was a warning.

“How so?” You ask. You don't expect him to go beyond surface level.

“Prime System Hours are during Midnight. A beautiful time.” He gently turns you, and brings you in,

“And why is that?”

“At this time, dreams become heavy. The memoria is dense enough to tear the thin membrane between reality and illusions.”

His wings slightly flutter. You feel almost hypnotized.

“The Dream realm and parts of The Reverie merge and collide. It bizarrely stabilises the lavish, shared dreams.”

You blink at him, slightly confused.

“And at this time, it is also easy to awaken from one's dreams, or sleep too deeply.”

You suck in a breath. A vision flashes into your mind.

Sunday stands across the empty ballroom. The candles are blown out. The windows creak with the gentle air of the night. The deathly pale light of the moon illuminates the side of Sunday's face.

Wake up? Sleep? Dream?

You breathe out, almost as if your soul had been snatched out of your body and harshly shoved back in. 

“Guests confuse their dreams and reality. They believe it's time to awaken, when reality seems pleasant, and dreams become bitter. Memories and presence blur together in an incoherent puzzle.”

He swerves you effortlessly, muscle memory keeping you from stumbling. But this time, your mind feels hazy.

“By the time they feel their consciousness return, they've already deeply penetrated into the dream realm.”

You blink again, and you're back at the same place. Except, this time, Sunday is closer. He takes your hand, and pulls you in. The emptiness of the ballroom is almost frightening, especially due to your confused and hazed state,

“As to whether they've woken up or not, relies solely on their ability to distinguish Reverie and the Dreamscape, which blurs more with the effect of the memoria.”

His voice echoes in your head with clarity, but your eyes blur the two figures, the contrast inducing dizziness in you to the point where you're afraid you might even fall,

“As for you..” He continues, golden eyes gently grazing over your confused and hazy expression, a smile stretching out onto his eerily perfect face,

“It's not time to decipher that yet.”

The silhouette of Sunday's fingers snap over the pale backdrop of the moon.

You open your eyes.

Sunday is standing before you with a warm smile. The candelabras are still burning. The crowd applauds you two. You breathe heavily, unsure of what has happened, your body suddenly zapped of energy, exhaustion straining your muscles.

“You seem to have overexerted yourself.”

Sunday's gloved hand trails up your back to your shoulder, guiding you gently back into the crowd, towards an empty table.

“Come now. The dust of this ballroom may be dulling your senses.”

Dust?

You blink for a moment, head slightly hanging as you collect yourself.

Sunday breathes out an ‘o’, and then chuckles softly.

“Do not mind it, dear”,

Sunday eyes the creaking windows. It has been a while since they were repaired. The room may need to be renovated. The dust on the floor is reminiscent of all the people that one witnessed your first dance with Sunday. The lack of it was always a reminder of your time with Sunday, the dust clinging to your heels instead. He stares towards the empty hall, where you dream of an everlasting dance.

“It is my mistake. I was thinking about something else.”

–––––———

A dance

“What makes you think I'd really want to dance with you?”

You ask, almost disgruntled. Rightfully so, too. The blonde man had been continuously pestering you throughout the night, asking you to accompany him. For a dance, a walk through the garden, a visit to the food table. Finally, he'd asked you to strike a bet with him, if it meant you'd at least spend an iota of your time with him and solely him.

“I have my ways, you know?”

His agile fingers flick and swerve a coin between his hands, tossing and turning it skillfully. The tablecloth slightly crinkles under the movement of his arms,

“I'm not betting, by the way.”

You say, pausing for a moment to confirm if he's listening. His eyes are intent on yours. You continue,

“If you have to go so far just to dance with someone, aren't you better off just giving up?”

Your gaze lands on the coin for a moment, and you continue watching it with interest. At some point, you force yourself to look away from the coin he was toying with, and take a sip of your drink. You lean back into your chair.

“Like I said, I have my ways. What I really want from you after all this time.. isn't it tempting? Don't you want to know?”

He tosses the coin into the palm of his other hand, and encloses it, before opening it. The coin vanishes when he opens his hand. Mirroring you, he leans back into his seat, although his body language is much more open than yours.

“making bets is easy, isn't it? But it's more trustworthy than pulling a few strings behind your back, right?”

He gets up, and languidly walks over to you. He leans down slightly, his sunglasses slightly skewing enough so that his vibrant Signoian eyes bore deep into yours.

“And for you.. I've thought about an offer that's taken me a while to cultivate. Join me for a chat on the Balcony?”

You think for a moment, and hesitantly ask,

“..Why not talk here?”

Aventurine only casts a side-glance somewhere in the distance.

“Prying eyes, sweetheart.”

He extends an open hand to you. You slowly place yours in it, with a self-assuring sigh.

-

“Penacony's relationship with the IPC has been quite bitter. Even our reception wasn't ready to welcome us.”

The air of the night sky was cold, forming subtle goosebumps on your skin. Various clinks and muffled conversations could be heard from behind you, the glass door blurring the view of everyone inside. 

“Not even my friends were allowed to enter the dreamscape except me. How lucky, right?”

He says, sarcastically. His eyes continuously gauge your face for any expression and hint as to what you feel.

“You’re a little too quiet.. am I not interesting enough for you?” 

You stay silent for a bit too long. Aventurine knows what you're going to say next.

“Listen, that night..” you start, your voice gradually softening at the remembrance of the memory,

“Don't.” He cuts you off.

Neither of you speak. You open your mouth to, but close it after being unable to decide on what to say.

“I mean, you don't have to remind me.” His languid tone returns, but you don't believe it was the same as before.

“I know everything ended that night.. I didn't think you were so averse to blood.”

You stare at the bubbles in your drink, rise slowly from the bottom of your cup to the surface, and pop. You don't know when, but the background of joyful conversation and ballroom music fades into distant screams, ones that have haunted your dreams ever since then. Aventurine continues,

“It won't hurt to.. act one last time like it used to be, right? Just for one night. It's a masquerade, and everyone hides who they are for a moment's time of detachment. Their past, their decisions, their mistakes. All of it is buried for a single night.”

You hear the shuffle of his stiff jacket as he moves closer to you, hesitantly moving your gaze to him as you steel yourself.

“Just one last time. For old time's sake. As lovers from the past.”

His hand extends out to you. His other hand is behind his back, his grip tightening over a coin.

Heads, or tails?

You take his hand with a sigh,

“Just once. Never again.”

Aventurine smiles. Luck has always been on his side. If it works well, then your expectations will never be honoured. His greed is fatally more important to him than your wishes. It won't be the last time, as far as he's concerned.

The coin shines under his palm, the moonlight creeping through the gaps between his fingers hitting the metal just right, but neither of you catch the glint. Your eyes are trained onto the main floor, and his are trained onto you. The coin decides both of your fates.

And Luck has always been happy to write it in his favour.

—————————

[pin-k-ink]

Dazai Osamu

CW: mention of death and violence, one night stand, a small teeny weeny age gap

a/n: this was more of a self-insert than an x reader fic

Dazai was a man who scoffed at the notion of fate, rejecting the idea that some invisible force could be guiding his life's trajectory. He preferred to attribute his successes and failures to his own decisions and actions, a belief system forged in the harsh realities and tough choices of his upbringing. Raised in a world where relying on fate was a luxury he couldn't afford, Dazai learned early on that he had to carve out his own path in life.

His disbelief in fate stemmed from a childhood marked by instability and uncertainty. Growing up in the Port Mafia, he witnessed firsthand the randomness of life's outcomes. There were no predetermined paths for him, only the constant struggle to survive and shape his own destiny. It was a world where the strong thrived, and the weak perished, and Dazai had no intention of being the latter. He had clawed his way to the top, relying on his wits, cunning, and sheer determination to overcome every obstacle in his path.

Amidst the chaos of his surroundings, a familiar face caught his eye, pulling him from his thoughts. It was her, his little pupil whom he had taken in along with Akutagawa years ago. However, the woman standing before him was a far cry from the timid, scared girl he had once tried to train. Back then, she was a scaredy-cat, a fragile little mouse in a den of lions, who would pass out at the mere sight of blood. Dazai had practically given up on her, considering either passing her along to someone who would take care of her or putting her out of her misery himself. He doubted she could survive in the mafia or even make it on her own outside of it.

He remembered the countless hours he had spent trying to toughen her up, to mold her into someone who could withstand the brutal realities of their world. But no matter how hard he pushed, she seemed to retreat further into herself, her wide eyes filled with a terror that never quite seemed to fade. It was as if she was too pure, too innocent for the life they led, and Dazai had resigned himself to the fact that she would never be cut out for it.

Ultimately, Dazai had left the mafia shortly after, without having to make that decision. He had never given her much thought after that, assuming that she had either found her way to a safer, more peaceful existence or had met a grim fate at the hands of the unforgiving underworld. But now, seeing her here, he realized just how wrong he had been.

The scene before him was a bloodbath, with dozens of dead and mutilated bodies scattered at his feet. The air was thick with the coppery scent of blood and the acrid smell of gunpowder, a symphony of death and destruction that would have made even the most hardened criminals recoil in horror. And yet, there she stood, in the middle of it all, idly wiping her gun clean before holstering it with a nonchalant air, as if this was just another day at the office.

As she lifted her head, her face was indifferent and devoid of emotion, a stark contrast to the carnage that surrounded her. She raised her hand in a small, casual wave, as if greeting an old acquaintance. "Oh. Hey, Dazai-san." Her voice was flat, almost bored, and it sent a chill down Dazai's spine. There was no mistaking it; this was definitely her, but not the her he had once known.

Dazai found himself gaping as she coldly stepped over the bodies, making her way past him with a pat on his shoulder, as if he hadn't been sent there to detain her. For a moment, he was too stunned to react, his mind struggling to reconcile the girl from his memories with the ruthless killer that now stood before him. But then, on an impulse, he grabbed her wrist and tugged her forward, finally regaining his composure. "My, how you've grown, my little flower. I didn't think you'd even make it into your twenties."

"I'm... eighteen, Dazai-san," she replied, her voice flat and matter-of-fact. There was no trace of the timid, stammering girl he had once known, no hint of the fear that had once consumed her. Instead, there was a coldness in her eyes, a hardness that spoke of a life filled with pain and suffering.

"Right, right." He paused for a moment, his mind racing. Why had he stopped her? What did he want to say? A thousand questions burned on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn't seem to find the words. Finally, he settled on the one thing that felt safe, the one thing that might give him a chance to unravel the mystery of the woman standing before him. "Wanna grab a drink with me?"

The words tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop them, hanging in the air between them like a lifeline. Maybe it was second nature for him to ask any beautiful woman out on a date, or perhaps he hoped to unravel the mystery of his once-hopeless pupil's transformation. Either way, he found himself holding his breath, waiting for her response.

He watched as she stared at him blankly for a couple of minutes, her expression unreadable. It was as if she was weighing her options, trying to decide whether he was worth her time. Finally, she nodded. "Sure."

And with that, the two set off, leaving the carnage behind them. As they walked, Dazai couldn't help but wonder what had happened to the girl he once knew, and what had shaped her into the woman she was today. He had a feeling that this drink would be the start of a very interesting conversation, one that might just challenge his long-held beliefs about fate and the paths we choose.

But more than that, he found himself curious about her, about the life she had led since he had last seen her. What had driven her to become so ruthless, so cold? What had she seen, what had she experienced that had hardened her heart and turned her into a killer? And why, despite everything, did he find himself drawn to her, to the mystery and the danger that seemed to surround her like a cloak?

As they made their way to the nearest bar, Dazai couldn't shake the feeling that this was more than just a chance encounter. Maybe, just maybe, there was something more at play here, some invisible force that had brought them together after all these years. And while he still didn't believe in fate, he couldn't deny the sense of anticipation that thrummed through his veins, the feeling that something big was about to happen.

For now, though, he would focus on the present, on the woman walking beside him and the secrets she held. He would buy her that drink and see where the night took them, and maybe, just maybe, he would find the answers he was looking for. Or perhaps he would simply find himself drawn deeper into the web of mystery and intrigue that seemed to surround her, a willing participant in a game he didn't yet understand.

They settled into a booth, ordering drinks and making small talk. But as the alcohol flowed and inhibitions lowered, the conversation took a deeper, more personal turn. She began to open up, sharing glimpses of the life she'd led since he left the mafia - the struggles, the triumphs, the choices that had shaped her into the person she was today.

Dazai found himself drawn in, captivated by her every word. There was a magnetism about her, a sense of danger and mystery that called to something deep within him. As the night wore on and the drinks kept coming, the air between them grew charged with a palpable electricity.

Perhaps it was the alcohol coursing through their veins, or the weight of the secrets they'd shared, but at some point they found themselves stumbling out of the bar, hailing a taxi to Dazai's apartment. The ride passed in a blur of heated glances and barely restrained touches, the anticipation building with every passing block.

As they stumbled into Dazai's apartment, the tension that had been building between them all night finally reached its breaking point. Dazai's eyes roamed hungrily over her figure, drinking in every curve and contour that had been hidden beneath her clothes.

She had grown into a stunning woman, a far cry from the scrawny girl he'd once known. Her body was lean and toned, honed by years of training and combat. But there was a softness to her too, a feminine grace that made his fingers itch to explore every inch of her smooth, supple skin.

She seemed oblivious to his heated gaze, too focused on removing her jacket and shoes. Dazai took the opportunity to admire the way her shirt clung to her breasts, the swell of her hips in her tight jeans. He could practically feel the warmth radiating off her, beckoning him closer.

Unable to resist any longer, Dazai closed the distance between them in two quick strides. His hands found her waist, pulling her flush against him as his lips sought hers in a searing kiss. She let out a small gasp of surprise before melting into him, her arms coming up to wind around his neck.

The kiss quickly turned heated, Dazai's tongue delving into her mouth to tangle with hers. His hands slid lower, cupping her rear and pressing her closer still. He could feel every inch of her body against his, supple curves and firm muscle setting his blood on fire.

Breaking away from her lips, Dazai trailed kisses along her jaw, down the column of her throat. She let out a breathy moan, her head falling back to grant him better access. The sound shot straight to his groin, his already painfully hard cock throbbing in the confines of his pants.

Impatient to feel her skin on his, Dazai tugged at the hem of her shirt, yanking it over her head and tossing it aside. His eyes immediately fell to her breasts, encased in a lacy bra that made his mouth water. Reverently, he traced a finger along the edge of the delicate fabric, marveling at the contrast against her skin.

She shivered under his touch, her nipples pebbling against the thin material. Dazai couldn't resist dipping his head, placing an open-mouthed kiss to the swell of her breast. She gasped, her fingers tangling in his hair as he laved attention on the sensitive flesh.

Growling low in his throat, Dazai reached behind her to unhook her bra, letting it fall away. Her breasts spilled free, perfect handfuls topped with rosy peaks that just begged for his touch. He obliged immediately, palming the soft mounds and rolling her nipples between his fingers until she was arching into his touch, little mewls of pleasure escaping her kiss-swollen lips.

Lost in a haze of lust, Dazai walked them backwards towards the bedroom, unwilling to stop his exploration of her incredible body. They fell onto the bed in a tangle of limbs, hands roaming and mouths fused as they frantically removed the rest of their clothing.

And then she was laid out before him like a feast, miles of creamy skin and toned limbs, a flush of arousal painting her from head to toe. Dazai took a moment to just look at her, to marvel at the absolute perfection of her form. She was a goddess, a siren, and he wanted nothing more than to worship at her altar for the rest of his days.

Starting at her ankle, Dazai began to map her body with his hands and mouth, determined to learn every dip and curve, to catalogue every spot that made her gasp and moan. He kissed his way up her legs, nipping at her inner thighs until she was writhing beneath him, begging for more. He laved attention on her breasts, sucking and biting until she was a keening mess.

By the time he finally settled between her thighs, she was dripping with need, her hips canting up in search of friction. And as he finally placed his mouth on her pussy and tasted her, as he felt her shatter apart under his skilled touch, Dazai knew that he would never be the same. She had ruined him for all other women, had branded herself on his very soul.

And as he slid into her tight, welcoming cunt, as he lost himself in the slick slide of their bodies moving as one, Dazai couldn't find it in himself to care. Let the world burn, let fate do as it willed. In this moment, in her arms, he was exactly where he was meant to be.

[504py]

Its me again (i hope you don't mind i am in you ask again 😅)

So uh do you have headcanon for yandere russia and canada with their s/o?

Thx 🌻

holy SHIT i got carried away 😭😭😭 this was supposed to be a short post, but i got too deep into their characterization. and don't worry!! i appreciate your asks! anyways, here we go guys... please heed the warnings!

Yandere Russia and Yandere Canada Relationship Headcanons

Gender neutral, domestic violence, implied NSFW, self-harm, manipulation, forced feminization, dubious consent, stalking, long post ahead!

┊͙✧˖*°࿐

Russia

How the relationship started

Your relationship with Ivan first started with you doing some mundane thing, but he was there at the right place and the right time, and something about you intrigued him. Be it at a restaurant eating a strange food combination, seeing you early in the morning with your hair wet and rushing to get somewhere, or even getting a glimpse of your mismatched socks when you walked past him and didn't even pay him any mind. That was enough to seal your fate as his property. His mind can't seem to stop running with thoughts of you, how are you, why are you, and he needs to scratch that itch.

Ivan sends out a private investigator to stalk you basically, and provide him with your daily schedule. Once Ivan has your schedule, he dismisses the investigator, and takes matters into his own hands by stalking you himself, and trying to insert himself into your daily life.

Then, it was just a matter of getting to know you, courting you with expensive gifts and dates, then fully dooming yourself when you accepted him as your boyfriend.

Expectations

Ivan is very blunt with what he wants. Not very long into your relationship, around a month or so, he asks you to move in with him. Any sort of opposition or protest will be stonewalled by this; "We will be married and living together someday anyways. Why fight it? Don't you love me?"

So, whether you like it or not, you move in with him in his giant, lonely house.

There are no maids and none of the Baltic states to be seen, and this is because Ivan expects you to fulfill the role of a housewife, regardless of your gender. So he'd like for you to do chores yourself and to clean up around the house while he's gone. He doesn't expect perfection from your cleaning, in fact, he finds it a little charming when some areas aren't clean or spotless. His house was huge and you were only so small.

On the topic of fulfilling the role of his housewife, he expects you to do other things that make you fit the role even more, such as giving him affection, cooking for him, and keeping up a good front when guests are around. He wants the two of you to evoke the image of a traditional married couple so badly, and if you fail to meet those requirements...

Punishments

Ivan can be cruel. He doesn't tolerate rebellion very well, and his punishments are always physical.

He is a very touchy man, and if you fail to reciprocate his touch, or actively shy away from it, he'll only get more aggressive. His hugs will feel more suffocating, his grip on your jaw while he kisses you will feel bruising, and you swear, it feels like he's trying to crush your hand while he holds it, despite the sweet smile on his face..

If you continue to refuse him, he'll be much less subtle with his harm. One day, when you try to shove him away from you, his grip on your arm tightens to the point it feels like he might just snap it, and he pulls you close to whisper a threat into your ear; "Will you continue to be like this?"

If you say no and apologize, which would be your best option, he'll let out a strained breath and try to relax his clenched jaw, before letting up his grip on your arm and muttering an apology under his breath himself.

If you say yes... His jaw will tense up, and the look he gives you is bone-chilling. "Alright." He says, and doesn't give you much time to think before he drags you to the front door, and throws you out into the harsh cold, with only the clothes on your back.

You can cry and scream apologies and bang on the door all you want, but he's already walked away and drinking a bit of vodka to soothe his own nerves.

He'll keep you outside till you are on the brink of getting mild hypothermia. He waits there, thinking of how long it'd take for the cold to get to someone of your size and shape. He knows everything about snow, and he knows everything about you.

Right before you start to ebb in and out of consciousness, he opens the door, and drags you back inside, wiping the snow off of you and taking your weak, shivering body in his arms.

You cling to him, wanting to live in his house, his coat, and in his arms forever after experiencing the unforgiving hellscape that is the Russian winter.

Ivan mutters sweet nothings, the alcohol in his breath and the powdery smell of his clothing enveloping all your senses. He says that he wouldn't have to do this if you would've just obeyed him, that this is all your fault, and that he didn't want to do this and that he just loves you too much.

If you had any sense of self-preservation, you'll listen to him from now on, and if not... He wouldn't be above breaking a few bones. But you won't disobey him again, right? It's for your own good.

"I'm sorry, моя любовь.."

Rewards

Ivan is a very affectionate man, but he isn't the best at showing it vocally. He shows it in the lavish gifts and dates he goes on with you— Yes, he takes you out on dates. Only for special events or when he's feeling particularly affectionate, but he does it too because he feels he also has a role to fulfill as a doting, providing husband. He'd feel too bad if he just kept you locked up your whole life as his wife (and, also, he wants to test you.. He wants to see if you'll act up in public, and to see if he can trust you). Ivan feels it adds to the aesthetic of a married couple, too.

Besides that, he is INCREDIBLY physically affectionate. He has no sense of personal space at all, which may or may not be a bad thing to you, but regardless, what you think doesn't really matter, and he'll continue to invade it anyways.

He always calls you over to sit on his lap, he sleeps way too close to you, and he's always looming over your shoulder no matter where and what you're doing. As long as he's home, it's GUARANTEED he will be touching you in some way, shape or form.

Because of such things, Ivan is.. prone to getting intimate with you.

Unlike everything else, he actually sort of values your consent when it comes to the bedroom. Yes, he will make advances and be very touchy-feely, and maybe intimidate you a bit, but at the end of the day, if you keep refusing it, he'll let up, but his mood will noticeably be more tense.

Ivan is especially prone to this because clothing is one of his favorite things to gift you, he enjoys dressing you up in things he finds cute. And I mean literally. Whatever he buys for you, be it dresses, coats, or underwear, Ivan will want to be there to undress you and then dress you up in the things he bought himself. You're like his own cute little doll.

Regardless of your gender, Ivan will buy you feminine clothing and accessories. He may even be inclined to forcing you to grow out your hair.

He likes sniffing you. He rests his nose atop your scalp while hugging you, just to breathe in your scent. It calms him like nothing else in the world, and he feels alive again.

And during not-so-often times like these, he'll speak and voice his affections.

"I love you.. We are going to have a great life together."

࿐°*˖✧┊͙✧˖*°࿐

Canada

How the relationship started

Matthew would be completely enamored by you just.. noticing him on a regular basis. Nodding your head at him whenever you two walked by each other in the hallway, mumbling a hello whenever you two sat next to each other, and the mere act of your eyes meeting his. Fully looking at him, and not just straight through him. It always left him red and unable to calm his heart for the rest of the day, so it was only natural he'd fall head over heels for you.

His crush on you kept festering day by day, with him being too shy to continue the little interactions you have, and having such little experience with socializing that he wouldn't even know how to continue furthering this "relationship."

Matthew is rather delusional. He spends his days fantasizing about talking to you, hanging out with you, being with you romantically, and, more often than he'd like to admit, rather impure things... all while you're seated next to him, or while you're across from him, a heady stare through his foggy glasses.

Eventually, Matthew starts to believe that you two were already in a romantic relationship, despite being acquaintances at best, and he starts to get really insecure. What if you forget about him someday? What if you stop noticing him, and you just disappear from his life? He believes that other people you notice, any other person you notice, will jeopardize that oh so special relationship you and Matthew clearly have.

So, Matthew bites the bullet, and asks you out for lunch one day. You smiled and blushed at him so brightly as you accepted, and at that moment, he knew he'd dedicate everything he had in his life to worshipping you.

Expectations

Matthew still puts in an effort to appear like a normal boyfriend, unlike Ivan, so your relationship with him would progress much more naturally.

That doesn't mean he hasn't been doing anything weird, though.

Matthew's already been envisioning what it'd be like to have a family and grow old with you the first moment he heard your voice. All you said was, "Good morning." So what more now that you two are in a real, established, romantic relationship?

He fantasizes constantly about clinging to you like a lifeline and crying about how much he loves you, and to hear you feel the same way he does. He wants to pin you beneath him, letting him do all the work, and showing you just how much he loves you, while whispering praises and prayers to you with a crazed, devoted look in his violet eyes.

You two have only been together for three weeks.

...If it wasn't apparent, all he wants is for you to always, always be by his side.

He doesn't care much for appearances or services like Ivan does. If anything, Matthew wants to be the one to do nice things for you, though he would like it too if you did nice stuff for him once in a while. Though, just kissing him on the cheek is enough to keep him overjoyed for like a week straight.

He spends a lot of time doting on you and trying to prolong the time you guys have together for as much as he can. Honestly, for the most part, Matthew would play the role of a normal boyfriend rather well, and your relationship wouldn't be really turbulent, except for, well...

Punishments

Matthew hates it when you have to go. Usually, he very reluctantly drives you back home after a bit of a fight, but he's just so pitiful you could never find it in yourself to be mad at him. I think he'd be the type to cry whenever you two had any sort of disagreement.

When he's lucky, he can get you to stay the night, which absolutely sends him on cloud nine, but it's not often enough for his liking...

Things would boil over, though, when you had to leave earlier than usual because you had to go to do something, like hang out with a friend, visit your mother, anything of the sort, and Matthew gets really upset.

He starts this whole thing of begging you to stay, that "Aren't I more important than them? Please don't leave." and he's tearing up, his shaky fingers holding onto your sleeve.

"Matthew, please, just for tonight."

"I-I don't want you to go, though."

Then he's crying. Harder than he usually does, and he's looking at you like a kicked puppy.

How could you still go after seeing him like that?

Matthew then learns that he can win you over with his tears. If he just cries for you, you'll stay, won't you?

He'd never lay his hands on you, but he'd constantly guilt-trip you and manipulate you for things to go in his favor.

Violence is something he'd see as a last resort, but it's still something he'd use against everyone else and himself, but never you. He hates to hurt others, but if they get in the way of him and you, he'll do it. I feel like people forget that, while nowhere as strong as Alfred is, Matthew is still a pretty strong guy. He wouldn't ever kill anyone, but he'd severely hurt them, and he'd be hiding his face the whole time.

And yes, he'd hurt himself for you. Those crocodile tears are bound to stop working on you someday, and when that time comes, he'll harm himself and say that he'll just keep hurting himself if you aren't with him.

Then you'll just have to run back to him, tend to his wounds, and reassure him that you still love him and that you'll stay.

...But if you keep trying to run, he'll have to just lock you up so you won't look at anyone else ever again.

Rewards

Matthew is affectionate in every sense, though he tends to show it through the way he wants to do anything and everything with you.

He's always holding onto your hands, massaging little circles into it, getting your favorite snacks when he does his groceries, drying your hair after showers, arranging dates and cooking and cleaning for you as much as he can. He's naturally very doting.

He does his best for you, he really does.

Besides acts of service, Matthew just likes to spend time with you. Lazing around with you on the couch, playing with your hair, and gazing right into your eyes like you were heaven-sent. He always has the most lovestruck expression on his face whenever he's with you.

"...You're the only one for me, you know that?" He mumbles, almost as if he doesn't know he's even talking.

And he says this next line with such devotion dripping from his voice that it makes your blood run a little cold.

"...I love you so much. Never leave me.."

┊͙✧˖*°࿐

(....guys was that decent. anyways! all art used is mine so if you're reading this, go give the original posts some love on my blog!)

[marleyybluu]

Just Sit On It

Spooky x f!reader

Warnings: 18+. bit of fluff and flirting, bit of cockwarming, very much self-insert (inspired by yesterdays events), no use of y/n

Word count: 980

A/N: I had to give this to my favourite boy🤷🏾‍♀️

(Not my gif.)

"You want me to just sit on it?" You ask with fake annoyance in your voice and a quirk in your brow. Spooky chuckled and nodded, a little glimmer in his eye as he looked at you. You two had just finished... whatever round of sex that was, you'd lost count after a while. Both of you high as fuck and missing each other after months of no physical contact, chuck it up to being adults with busy schedules. Sucked.

You were done, out of it and tired— growing a bit sore from how he handled you, not like you'd complain anyway you liked it. You thought he was done too, when you attempted to bait him into one last round he'd respectfully hit you with, "Nah I'm tired for real."

You shrugged and put your shirt back on, chilling in the comfortable silence aside from your music softly playing in the background. You hated a quiet room, especially during sex. But it only took a few minutes for his shirt to come back off claiming to be hot... well it was hot, summer was approaching a lot quicker than it usually did and it was the type of heat to make you angry and irritated with any and everything.

As he lay on his stomach you smiled gazing at his back, how smooth and muscular it was, clean and free of tattoos, unlike the rest of his body. He felt your eyes and asked what was up. You told him you wanted to sit on his back and he let you, you drew faint art on his beautiful skin, and ran your finger down his deep spine. Oof, you loved a deep spine, something about the depth of it was so sexy.

Soon he mentioned he wanted to take off his pants. Again, he was "hot." So you got off and he took off more than just his pants, he nodded over for you to come back and you say there. "I thought you said you were good?"

"I am."

"So why would I just sit on it if you're good?" You challenged with a smirk on your face. Spooky wasn't about to have this back and forth, actions were louder so he sat up and reached over for you, cupping your meaty thigh in his large hand and pulling you on top of him. You gasped feeling him against your sore and yet aching clit.

"Just sit." He shrugged. "And this is comfortable for you?"

He nodded reaching for your hands, interlocking your fingers with his. God, he was just so fucking cute sometimes. You looked down at him as he looked up at you, nothing was said and that's what you liked about your dynamic, you two could just sit like this. Naked or half naked talking about whatever was on your mind or not talking at all.

Adorn by Miguel had come on and you began to hum and absentmindedly move around, for a brief moment forgetting you were both naked on your lower halves. Spooky smiled it was always nice to see you comfortable around him considering when you first met you were so shy you wouldn't even look at him.

He let go of your hands and rested his warm palms on your hips. "Come here."

You beamed and with no hesitation leaned over to meet his lips. Your hands rested on either side of his neck, your lips moving in sync— you could kiss that man all day if it was possible. You felt the bottom of your shirt hike up and pool over your lower back, his hands on your bare ass once again. His favourite part to grab.

One last peck and you pulled back. Spooky noticed the look on your face, a look he was too familiar with— when you wanted to say something but you were too chickenshit to say it, still a bit reserved with your thoughts even though it was clear you could be open and honest with him. "Say it. I could see it in your face." 

You sighed all this temptation was getting to you. "You wanna put it in?" He asked. You bit your lip and nodded, silently thanking God that he was a mind reader at times. You leaned forward reaching between your bodies you gently wrapped your hand around his girth and slowly sunk down on him, he always stretched you out so nicely. 

And that was it, you just sat on it and it was nice (?) and warm... really warm and slick. You actually did not want to move but he did, pushing his hips up into yours, you placed your hand on his chest saying, "Wait, don't move." 

He stopped his actions and resumed holding hands with you. "You're so pretty." He complimented, you blushed looking to the side so he wouldn't notice how embarrassing it was that you couldn't take compliments, especially from him. Your slight distraction was cut short when you felt him move, you giggled turning to him. "Stop..." 

He did it again. "Stop what?" 

"Spooky... I can feel it- ouu, stop." 

He rested his hands under his head and let out a hearty laugh at how flustered you were until he was now feeling something, with your hands planted on his chest you looked down at him with a knowing look. He let out a shaky moan when you did it again. "You stop." 

"Stop what?" 

"Baby, shit, I can feel you tightening around me." You were easily flexing your walls around him in retaliation. He pushed his hips up into you causing you to moan and fall forward, he did it again, carefully thrusting in and out of you-- your pretty love faces like artwork, his favourite thing to watch. You sucked your teeth in realization. 

"Did you just bait me into another round?" 

"Always." 

Slick motherfucker.

Y’all… oof I had to. I’m still reminiscing. I miss my man😭

If you liked this fic feel free to like this fic

Comments and reblogs are appreciated.

Peace and love🤞🏾

🏷️ : @skyesthebomb @darqchilddaydreamz @realhotgurlshit

[musclefantasytf]

Ultrazise crhonicles: Little big help

Erick was a young, skinny boy, constantly teased by his peers for his small size. He desperately wanted to have a muscular body like the other boys, but no matter how hard he worked out, it seemed he couldn't make any progress.

After a grueling training, Erick staggered into the locker room, feeling exhausted and defeated, but he knew he had to shower before returning home.As he changed, he noticed a tall, muscular, hairy man walking into the locker room. Erick was puzzled by the size of the man and could not help staring at him.

The man surprised him looking at him and asked, "Why that long face, boy?"

Erick simply shrugged his shoulders and told him about his difficulties developing muscle. The man laughed between his teeth, and revealed his name as Henry and told Erick that he had faced the same problem in the past.

Curiously, Erick asked Henry how he managed to become so big, Henry laughed between his teeth and revealed that he used to have the same problem. But then he reached into his purse and pulled out a bottle labeled "Ultrazise."

""Take a sip of this and you will be well on your way to becoming like me," said Henry smiling, handing the bottle to Erick.

Erick's eyes opened with hope and despair. He enthusiastically took the bottle and took a sip. As soon as the liquid touched his tongue, he began to feel a burning sensation running through his body. His temperature went up and sweat dripped down his face. Suddenly, He watched in amazement as his height increased to match Henry's. His chest expanded into two large muscle masses, his shoulders became as large as cannonballs, and his neck became thicker, making his voice lower.The transformation didn't stop there. Erick's triceps and biceps tripled in size and his legs became strong muscular trunks.He felt the pressure build up in his lower regions, and looked down to see hid manhood grow into a thick, long shaft, tight against his underpants. His balls got bigger and heavier, causing discomfort.His buttocks swelled into a round, firm bubble, causing his underwear to stretch to the limit, causing his underwear to burst freeing him from his tight prison, his face became more masculine and a thick beard sprouted on it. He could feel the hair growing all over his chest, until it became a lush, wild area, creating a pathway to his pubic area. He even noticed a slight layer of hair on his newly formed bubble butt.

Breathing with emotion and disbelief, Erick stood in front of the mirror, admiring his new body. Henry patted him on the shoulder, congratulating him on finally becoming a real man. Erick was amazed at his new self, but his thoughts were interrupted when Henry suddenly grabbed and squeezed his ass. Gasping in surprise, Erick felt a wave of pleasure sweep through his body.

Without warning, Henry plunged his face into Erick's ass, making swirls with his tongue that gave him chills down his back. Erick groaned with pleasure, feeling sensations he had never experienced before. After pleasing Erick, Henry turned it around and closed their lips, sharing a passionate kiss.

Erick couldn't believe what was going on. Not only had he transformed into a muscular and attractive man, but he was also experiencing desires he didn't know he had. In a daze of excitement, he allowed Henry to lead him into one of the showers.

Henry pressed Erick against the wall and removed his underpants, revealing his enormous and throbbing cock. Without hesitation, Enrique inserting his huge, throbbing cock into Erick's tight, hairy hole. It was a mind-blowing experience for Erick,

making him scream with pleasure. As they moved together, Erick couldn't believe how good it felt to be full of such a big, hard cock. Henry was an expert, he got all the right points right and took Erick to the climax in no time.

Then they lay on the ground, sweaty and breathless. Henry kissed Erick's forehead and told him he was a real man now.

[tvgals]

‘ CHILL OUT ‘

pt.3

READ PARTS 2 AND 1 BEFORE READING THIS !

— e42! miles morales x black! fem! reader

synopsis — you’ve been cheated on, you’ve been lied to, and you’ve been heartbroken but you damn well ain’t gon be wallowing in self pity forever.

“you’re not mad?” jess asks you, her face covered in surprise. “nope.” you shrug, grabbing your bag full of snacks and walking out of the store, jess trying to follow up behind you. “on god?” she inquires, biting the inside of her cheek. you kept on walking without any response. “i take that as a no. look, please don’t say anything to jaya. she really trusts me and-“ jess is cut off with you heaving a sigh. “you’ve been talking shit too, huh?” you confront jess, well..not really..it’s more of a yes or no question. “what? ahah! why would you say that?” jess chuckles nervously, twiddling her thumbs.

“i’ve known jaya since sixth grade and i been living in brooklyn since i was born. i know when people talk shit about me, i’m not an idiot. so i will ask you one more time,” you take a deep breath. “have you been talking shit?” jess sighs and stops walking, turning around and walking the other way. that was enough of an answer for you. “fuckin’..” you mumble, walking back to your dorm. everything fell apart within the span of two days. you learned your boyfriend cheated on you, your so called “friend” was talking shit about you to someone new. this was terrible. you missed miles, as much as you hate to say it. you wanted him to hold you and have him tell you he loves you and all of this never happened. you look on your key ring and see the key to miles’ dorm room. you change routes and head over to his room, hoping it’d just be him so his roommate wouldn’t have to hear the oh so awkward conversation. you walk up the stairs leading to the dorms and find yourself outside miles’,contemplating on leaving. before you could think anymore, you insert the key into the lock and walk in, the smell of miles’ cologne hitting your nose. you walk into miles’ room to see him on the bed, seeming as if he’s sleeping. you knew this was a dumb idea. you bite your lip and turn to leave.

“come back..” miles mumbles, rolling into the wall to make room for you. “miles-“ you groan. “just come here. please.” you take your shoes off and lay next to him, trying to not make bodily contact with your ex. in his bed. you and miles sit in silence for a while, listening to the bustling sound of traffic outside and the occasional laughter of children walking down the street. “miles.” you whisper, turning to face him. “yeah?” he whispers right back. “what really happened?” you ask, watching miles hands inch closer to your own.

“if i tell you this you won’t do nothing stupid, right?” miles turns to you, cocking a brow. “promise.” you tell him. miles sighs. “y’know that party i went to like a month ago?” you nod. “i was walking ‘round talkin’ to people, and yo’ lil’ friend jaya came up to me talking bout how she wanted to get put on with me — so i said no cause i already got a girl, right?” you nod along while miles talks. “then she was talking ‘bout how she was better than you this that and the third and i’m like, ‘what?’ you feel me?” you scrunch your face up. someone has to be lying. it’s either him or jaya. “wait wait,” you interrupted him. “jaya said you called her phone?” miles scrunches his face up and looks at you crazy.

“forreal? nah, she’s lying to you ma’.” miles chuckles lowly, pulling you into his side. “are you sure?” you question him, ignoring the fact he told you he did inafct cheat.

“mhm.”

you couldn’t help but think he was lying too, miles was prone to lie. like the time he said he would come home at 9 and came home at 2:30 in the morning or the time he told you he’d never lie to you, but he did, and you couldn’t help but think he’s doing it again. “you’re a liar, miles.” you whisper into his stature.

“i wouldn’t lie to you-“ “but you would. you’ve done it countless times and you expect me to fall for it again. well i won’t, miles morales,” you tell him, pushing yourself off of the bed and walking out his room. “baby, come back.” miles says sternly, getting up and following behind you. “no. you can’t force me to stay here wit’ yo lying, cheating ass. you told me you cheated,” you pointed an accusatory finger into his chest. “and you wanna sit here and sweet talk me? well it’s not gonna fucking work.” you sniff, turning around and walking out the door.

you were gonna get your revenge and fast.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

TAGLIST ; — @venusluvslove @mangolog @ohmaiscool15 @ohsanghoe @iiilovemilfs @garnetj @guapaneeseb @nekoweb @samndwich @cloudniteee @azadabts @elitesanjisimp @theyfwkayla14 @lennielane @kelesisworld @aaliyahlia-babyy @dorkmuffin27 @markleedreams @violxtbxbyy @pinkluvrr @yourrfavzxri @noraloralei @anoungsoneandonly @neteyamsmunch @1lennii @

[currentfications]

Christmas Special | 🎄

Synopsis: after your last shift of the year, you excitedly made your way home. The snow had made running difficult, and the delay was enough to cause you to miss your bus. With your phone battery flat and only one phone number memorised, you decided to try your luck, hoping that your ex would pick up the phone.

A/N: this is just cliches after cliches cause I am a basic bitch, special shoutout to @bluebada for the Christmas post (˶‾᷄ ⁻̫ ‾᷅˵) sorry for the cheesiness and general cringe, I just sat down and typed a whole bunch of tropes into one fic, sorry if it’s not my best work, I’ve had the worst week and needed some fluff >/////<

Warning: swearing, fluff and cringe, but mostly sfw (mention/alluded to sex but no smut in this fic)

“Wait!” You waved your hand at the bus’s closing door, to no avail. The hydraulics hissed and the driver took off in haste before the doors had fully closed. “Fuck,” you muttered, tugging the suitcase behind you, the wheels squeaking in protest after being hauled around the past miles while you sprinted.

Walking up to the dimly lit bus stop, you checked the posted schedule for the next bus. A piece of poorly stuck on paper informed you of your continued misfortune while its peeling corners flapping around in the wind seemed to mock you. You bit your tongue from making a sarcastic comment at the situation on hand, not wanting to jinx your already doomed self. Instead you silently wondered if you could survive the night if you wore all your clothings at once. The Christmas sweater at the bottom of your bag ought to serve it’s purpose, you thought.

Noticing a phone booth nearby, you thought the shelter might make the wind chill more tolerable. The stench that hit your nose immediately had you reconsider taking your chances with the elements. Staring at the key pad and the suspicious puddle of stain on the floor, you tapped on your phone screen again, hoping that it had magically recharged itself. It did not.

You hung your head in disappointment and immediately regretted taking a deep breath to self regulate. Picking up the rusty phone and the last few quarters you had at the bottom of your bag, you swiftly punched in the number to the studio, hoping that someone- anyone- had stayed behind. Maybe the night cleaners would call you a cab.

“Thank you for your call. We are currently away for Christmas closure until the second Monday of January. Please leave a message-”

You hung the receiver up and sprinted outside for some fresh air. By the time you had remembered to jiggle the little refund handle on the pay phone, only two quarters are spat back out. Groaning at your own stupidity, you stared at the keypad and dialled in the only cell phone number you remember.

An odd feeling stirred in you as your finger lingered above the last button. Before you could quite identify the emotion, a wave of nausea from the smell quickly dismissed any other feeling in you.

The call went through.

What was I thinking? You thought to yourself as the wait tone went on. She’s not going to pick-

“Hello?” A familiar voice pierced through your doubt.

Instinctively, you took another deep breath. Your eyes watered up, and you’re not sure if it’s from her voice or the reek. “Hey Bada,” you managed to squeeze out.

A brief moment of silence hung in the air, and you thought she had hung up on the call. “Y/n?”

You nodded, realised that she can’t see you, and croaked out a confirmation. “Sorry to call you this late, I-”

A sharp beep cut you off.

“Please insert a quarter to continue the call.”

You fumbled around for some extra changes, but the call ended. Looking down on the mystery stain, you have a sudden irrational urge to defecate on the money hungry technology. Before you could do anything you’d regret, or worse, destruction of public property, the phone rang.

☆*:.｡.:*☆

You waved at the approaching headlights, and the black sedan came to a screeching halt next to you. The door to the driver’s seat flung open, and a familiar silhouette darted towards you. You were engulfed in Bada’s comforting scent warmth as she threw her coat on you.

“Are you okay?” Her soft voice was dripping with concern as she brushed a stray strand of hair out of your face. “Shit, you’re freezing. Get in the car.”

You climbed into the passenger seat of the still running car, thanking her as she shut the door behind you. “Sorry for the trouble,” you muttered apologetically as she buckled herself behind the steering wheel. “Thanks for getting here so quickly too, I hope I haven’t interrupted anything?”

“Don’t be silly, I’m just glad you remembered my phone number.” A hint of pink tinted her cheeks, and you convinced yourself that it’s either the weather or the poor lighting.

You sheepishly smiled at the taller girl, “well I’m glad you picked up an unknown number in the middle of the night, or I’ll probably have to crash in the phone booth.”

“Wouldn’t want the Mouse King to get to you, princess,” Bada teased.

You beamed at the pet name before quickly tuning down your smile, reminding yourself of the distance you ought to put between yourself and her. “How’d you know I got the role?”

Bada’s eyes widen and she whipped herself around, turning her attention to the GPS. “I- uh, Lusher told me. Speaking of which, the girls are having a Christmas party at Minah’s, you wanna come?”

You raised an eyebrow at her sudden change in subject, but nodded nevertheless. “It’s been a while, you think they’d mind?”

“Nah, it’ll be a Christmas surprise.” A smile sat on the corner of her lips as she gripped the steering wheel, her hand on the lowered break lingering beside you went unnoticed as you fixated on her eyes.

“Thanks for the invite,” you said as you finally peeled your gaze away. The scent of her car reminded you of something. “I better change,” you muttered as you pulled out a sweater from your bag, before wiggling off her coat and the shirt that you were wearing, which still faintly smelled like the phone booth. “Sorry for the stench.”

Bada glanced over to you and almost swerved into the opposite lane, immediately hiding her surprise with a cough. “Geez y/n, trying to make me crash the car?”

You chuckled as you pulled the Christmas sweater over your head. “Eyes on the road Bada, nothing you haven’t seen here before.”

Bada bit down on her bottom lip as she fixed her eyes back on the road, her knuckles turning white as she gripped on the steering harder.

☆*:.｡.:*☆

You heard the party as Bada pulled into the driveway, shaking your head at the girls’ energy. “They’re still as lively as ever,” you remarked at the Christmas karaoke blasting through the basement. Bada hummed and nodded in agreement.

“Perks of living near a construction site, I guess.” Bada was worried when Minah first told them she’s moving into this area, but soon discovered that the BEBE dancer is actually the menace of the suburb.

“What took you so long?” The door swing open at the bottom of the stairs and Minah peered through, stopping dead in her tracks when she spot you wrapped up in Bada’s coat, an ugly Christmas sweater underneath. “Holy fuckery are you-”

Bada shot her a warning look and wagged her head ever so slightly, and Minah muttered an apology of some sort before pulling you into a hug with a huge grin on her face.

“Merry Christmas,” you squeezed the redhead, “it’s been too long.”

“Come on in and tell me all about it,” Minah chirped excitedly as she pulled you into the house behind her. “Lusher is here too,” she nodded towards the singing, All I Want for Christmas echoing through the stairwell.

“Hurry up,” you turned around to Bada, who’s already kicking off her sneakers, “don’t wanna miss your part.”

Bada whipped around and sprinted down the hallway, leaving you with Minah, who offered to take your coat. “We have beer and eggnog, Lusher was making something in the kitchen. Do you have work tomorrow or can you stay?”

“I can stay,” you said as you handed her Bada’s coat, “we finally finished our last show of the year. Can I take up on that eggnog offer?”

With a mug full of spiked milk, you leaned against the door frame leading to Minah’s living room, where Lusher and Bada stood in front of the television, singing (Bada rapping Soulja Boy’s Crank That).

“WAR IS OVER!” Lusher screeched when the song finished, turning to you with a hug. “WE CHEERED!”

Bada covered her mouth with her hands, but it was too late as Tatter emerged from the kitchen with a cup in hand, which she flung to the other side of the room as she dived into your arms. Minah’s disapproving groan overshadowed by Tatter’s chatter. “It’s a Christmas miracle, we are no longer children of divorce!”

☆*:.｡.:*☆

“Who’s baking gingerbread at this hour?” You asked, sniffing the air as smell of baked goods slowly filled the room.

“Oh shit,” Lusher recalled, making her way back to the kitchen. “Should we make gingerbread house?”

“Should you be making gingerbread houses right now?” You followed her into the kitchen, hot behind her heels as she stumbled on flat ground.

“Oops,” she chortled. The gingerbread now smelled toastier than before, and you hastened your speed towards the oven.

You found the kitchen mitten hanging by the stoves and reached out to grab it. “I’ll do it, go sit your drunk ass down.” The girl giggled and you heard the kitchen stool being pulled out, lusher plopping into the seat.

A hand appeared from above your shoulder and plucked the mitten off your hands, you turned around to Bada already putting them on. “Your clumsy ass is no better than her drunk one. Go sit next to her.”

You tried to protest but Bada’s firm hand on your lower back guided you away from the oven door. You stood in place even after she had withdrew her hand, too distracted to notice the quickly browning smell of the baked goods. Definitely too distracted to notice the blush taking form on both of your cheeks.

Bada opened the door and a gust of cinnamon and clove scent poured out the oven, and you almost forgot how ridiculous it is to be making gingerbread houses in the middle of the night with your salivating.

“Hot tray incoming,” Bada warned as she pulled out a sheet tray, snapping you out of your daze. You looked around and found a coaster, placing it on the bench behind her as she put down the piping hot tray.

It was brief, but the domesticity stirred up some feelings you thought had long settled in you. You then immediately scolded yourself for dredging up the past. The festive season must be making you all sappy.

You shook your head and turned your focus to Lusher’s trays instead. “Are we building minecraft houses?” You couldn’t help but ask upon seeing two dozens or so poorly formed shapes on the sheet trays.

Bada peered over your shoulder. “These are squoval at best,” she noted, “how many drinks have you had tonight?”

“Enough to spontaneously want to bake,” Lusher slurred.

“You can glue them with melted sugar,” Minah suggested, pulling out a pot from her rack.

“Nope, too drunk to handle hot sugar.” Lusher threw her hands up, sitting back into the stool. “You do it.”

Bada sighed exasperatingly, “is this a Christmas party or a babysitting gig?”

☆*:.｡.:*☆

Between the gingerbread house decoration, eggnog, and Christmas songs karaoke, the tiredness from the bus chase earlier that day had finally caught onto you as you let out a yawn, covering your mouth with the sleeved of your Christmas sweater.

“You alright there?” Noticing your watering eyes, bada checked in on you. “Do you need to go? I can drive you if you need,” Bada offered.

“No, no I’ll be fine, once my phone charges up I can call myself a ride. Plus no drinking and driving,” you added,

“No more Nutcracker this season?” Minah asked.

“Nope, just finished our last show of the year,” you gestured towards your suitcase.

“Speaking of which,” Lusher chimed in with curious eyes. “Have you gotten the role?” She asked, “for Sugarplum Princess?”

You nodded with a smile, before quickly realising something was off. You squinted at Bada, who has taken a vested interest in the bottom of her cup.

☆*:.｡.:*☆

“So,” You prodded, “I thought you said Lusher broke the news?” Leaning against the concrete wall, you took a draw from the cigarette, the dim light from your lighter illuminating the snowy street.

“She must had too much to drink,” Bada adamantly insisted, leaning towards you. You held up the smoke silently for her, raising an eyebrow at her response.

“Lee Bada, are you stalking your ex?” You joinkingly said, gently taping her shoulder with your fist.

“It’s Christmas, nothing wrong with watching the Nutcrackers during the festive season,” choking on the smoke, her tone turned defensive.

“Right, so you came by and watched me without stopping to say hello?”

“I- I didn’t know what to say, after…” Bada trailed off, leaving the silence to fill the icy air. After what felt like minutes, she turned to you with a smile, her eyes suspiciously damp. “You were incredible on that stage, princess.”

You blushed at the pet name, having to remind yourself that she was just referring to your role. With a smile and en pointe, you lifted your arms beside you while you gave her a stage bow. “Thank you for coming to the show.”

When you stood up straight again, the moisture pooling in her eyes seemed to have increased, moments away from falling off her cheeks. You looked up at the tall girl and instinctively reached your hand out towards her. Whilst your hand is still raised in midair, you realised that the gesture may be too intimate, and settled with fixing her fringe instead.

“Are you still putting on one right now?” Bada asked, her voice hushed as it wavered ever so slightly, the tears welling up in her eyes finally falling off.

“What are you talking about?” You frantically asked as you caught a stray drop sliding off her cheek. “Bada are you alright?”

The taller girl shook her head and tilted it back to stop her tears from falling. “I’m sorry y/n, I thought I’ve moved on like we promised to.”

“Bada-”

“But I don’t want to,” Bada continued, still looking away from you. Her neck stretched back as you saw her swallowing hard. “And I don’t think I can.”

“Bada,” you tentatively said again, your voice now much softer with the emotions bubbling up. “I’m sorry I asked that of you. I thought it would be easier if we both just walked away, I-” your voice trailed off as you pondered how the hell did you even thought that was a good idea in the first place.

Sure, work gets in the way of relationships. But if you had just tried harder, accommodated more, would it have made a difference?

Her chuckling made you look up, now meeting her gaze as she looked down at you, a tight smile that couldn’t quite reach her eyes plastered on her face. A nervous habit you knew she had. “It was anything but easy these couple years, y/n.”

You hummed and nodded in agreement, “look at me being stranded on the side of the road without you.”

Bada chuckled, “look at you, still remembering my phone number even in a pinch.”

“I’m surprised you picked up unknown numbers this late at night,” you said with a laugh.

“Can’t help it, I know an accident prone idiot who needs my rescue at all hours of the day.”

“That can’t be safe, how many scam calls do you end up picking up?”

“Probably too many, I actually almost fell for one once- but it’s well worth it, I got the call I’m waiting for.”

You stood flabbergasted by the admission, the cold air stinging the inside of your cheeks as your jaw hung. “Shit Bada, I’m sorry I’m still causing you trouble even after I left.”

Was two Christmas ago? When you sat her down in the kitchen and told her you’re moving out. Between trying to keep your relationship working and your career, you’ve chosen the later. You’d also gotten her a hand knitted sweater that year- speaking of cliched.

“Nah, ‘y can’t help that you’re forgetful-”

“I am sometimes forgetful,” you corrected, and Bada backed off with her palms up, a smile finally returning to her rosy cheeks. Frostbitten, likely. “Get some sleep after this party, sleep debts’ a bitch,”

Bada raised a finger to her under eye. “Oops, busted,” she said as she stuck her tongue out, like being caught red handed in a cookie jar. “Fine, New Year’s resolution,” she announced as she turned to you. “Go to bed by two each night.”

“Ten,” you whacked away her hand placed on her chest.

“Twelve.”

“Eleven.”

“Eleven each night,” Bada replaced her hand on her chest.

You rolled your eyes at her but didn’t correct her this time. “And eat breakfast,” you added.

“Huh?”

“New Year’s resolution, don’t forget to eat breakfast,” you reminded.

Bada groaned. “As if you eat breakfast,” she muttered, scrunching up her nose in annoyance.

“Fine, our New Year’s resolution. Breakfast.” It’s about time you make one and stick to it anyways. “Eight cups of w-” you begin, only to immediately cut off by Bada.

“Y/n, be reasonable.”

You shrugged. “It was a nice try though. Congrats on the competition- you girls’ schedule must’ve been packed lately?”

Bada hummed and nodded a confirmation, “it’s great to have a job, don’t get me wrong,” she said, holding her hands up defensively, “it’s just nice to be able to sit around and do nothing for a while.”

“Word,” you muttered, as the chilled wind blew at the awkward silence that filled as the small talk settled.

“Uhm,” bada started, breaking the silence. “I can send you home?”

“Oh don’t worry about it, my phone should be charged up by now, I’ll call myself a ride. Thanks, again, for coming to my rescue.”

Bada chuckled, “anytime, princess.” The pet name is starting to grow on you.

☆*:.｡.:*☆

“How is the battery STILL flat?” You wailed, clutching your lifeless phone.

“Did you plug it in?” Bada peered behind you.

“Of course I plugged it in,” you snapped, “I’m not stupid.”

Bada took over your phone and charge and wiggled it around. “Is the plug turned on?”

“Of course it’s-” not turned on. You could’ve sweared that you had seen the phone lit up when it was plugged in. “Oh come on who turned it off?”

You suspect foul play, but your streak of bad luck of the day made you sound hesitant. Bada was not convinced.

“Do you want to crash for the night?” Minah poked her head into the kitchen, letting out a yawn. “It’s getting real late.”

Between asking Bada to drink drive and staying the night, you chose the later and thanked Minah for the bed. “Sorry if I’m over staying my welcome.”

“Don’t be silly, we haven’t caught up in a while. Stay as long as you like,” said Minah, as she led you to the guest room. “Lusher fell asleep on the couch,” Minah continued, turning to Bada. “So you can sleep here too I guess. Aight, I’ll see you in the morning,” Minah’s voice trailed off as she quickly made her way back to her room, slamming the door behind.

“Minah set us up, didn’t she?” You said with a sigh.

“Probably unplugged your phone too,” Bada chuckled. “Sorry for the wrongful accusation.”

“That was very hurtful,” you joked, “since you felt so bad about it you’ll let me call dibs on the bed.” You flopped yourself down on the nearest mattress and looked around the room, realising that you’re sitting down on the only bed.

“Minah!” Bada shouted as she marched towards her room, shortly returning with a huff. “Bastard locked her room.”

“I still call dibs on the bed.”

“Well scoot in then,” Bada instructed, “unless you want me to sleep on the cold hard floor?”

You rolled your eyes at her and made room for Bada. “That little minx, I’ll get her in the morning.”

Bada climbed in, and the old mattress sunk at the weight of you two, squeaking as gravity pulled you together at the bottom of the mattress nest.

You opened your eyes to meet Bada’s hot chocolate brown ones staring back at you. “The fuck are you looking at,” you giggled as you pushed her fringed down to cover her eyes. “Go to sleep.”

“Yeah, yeah I will, just-” bada stirred in her cocoon of blanket, “I haven’t seen you in a while. You keep sleepin’ and don’t worry about me.”

You tried to close your eyes but felt her burning gaze on you. “I can’t sleep with you staring at me, you weirdo,” you said as you turned around, the mattress nest pulling you backwards.

As you were falling asleep you felt an arm around you, but you quickly drifted off as the slow rising and falling of Bada’s breathing gently lulled you to sleep.

☆*:.｡.:*☆

The first crack of dawn spilled through the window above the bed, and you snuggled deeper into the warmth as slumber reclaimed you.

A firm hold around you enveloped you as you next woken up from possibly the best sleep of the year. Followed closely by the rudest awakening of the year. Bada’s arms had snaked around your waist as she nuzzled into the back of your neck, you backside pressed up against her stomach as one of your legs have started to fall asleep. You suspect it is between her thighs.

“Bada,” you gently nudged the sleeping giant, poking at her shoulder. “My job needs me to have both legs,” you whispered.

“Hm?” She continued to stir, gripping you tighter into herself.

Seeing that her slumber is not letting up, you yanked your feet out from her weight. Pins and needles attacked your foot as blood returned to your leg, and you let out a hiss as you rubbed your foot.

“Y/n?” Bada opened her eyes in confusion, slowly recalling the events of the night before. “Shit, sorry. You okay there?”

You nodded, pulling yourself up from the bed. “Merry Christmas, Bada.” Judging by the lack of noise in the house you assumed the rest of the BEBE girls are still fast asleep, you pointed at a door down the halls and mouthed ‘toilet?’ at Bada, shuffling towards it as Bada nodded a confirmation.

Bada followed closely behind you out the room, heading for a glass of water in the kitchen. “Merry Christmas to you too.”

A bundle of mistletoe hung by the doorframe, staring back at the two of you, its waxy white berries beckoning. “This wasn’t here last night,” you said, observing the tape holding up the ribbon.

“Mhmm,” Bada hummed, easily guessing the culprit who’d set it up. “Should we let it serve its purpose?”

You chuckled at the offer, before leaning in to plant a quick peck on her cheeks. “Fine, seeing that I didn’t have a Christmas present.”

The kiss was short and sweet, and you tried to not linger on the sweet part too long. Doesn’t stop the butterflies from fluttering in your stomach. You shrugged off the feeling and made quick time to the toilet.

Bada’s hand grabbed you by the arm, pulling you back into her arms. “Y/n, wait.” Her eyes took you in as she hit down on her bottom lips, brushing away a strand of hair away from your face. “Can we try again?” She said with a hushed tone, concealing a break in her voice.

“Bada we’ve been through this,” you sighed, “it’s too much work and it’ll take away-”

“I’m sorry I left you to fend for yourself,” Bada cut you off, her eyes welling up again. “But I promise I’ll be more present this time. It takes two to make a relationship work, right?”

You pondered at her words for a second. “We are both so, very busy,” you reminded, “it’ll be hard fucking work.”

Bada leaned down and pressed her forehead against yours, her breath tickling your upper lips. “Then I’ll put in the hard fucking work,” her soft voice determined, uttering a promise in whispers. The firmness in her voice felt so reliable, and you couldn’t help but falter at it.

Maybe this time it’ll be different. You’re older, know better. And her arms felt like home, like shelter in a storm, a ride in the dark. “Are you sure?” You glanced up, looking for signs of hesitation but found none.

Bada pressed her lips against yours, and you found your answer in her firm hold around you. You melted against her and allowed yourself to let your guard down, to allow the crashing waves of yearning you’ve been feeling wash through you. Grabbing the collar of her shirt, you pulled her closer into the kiss.

An excited screech broke your tender moment, as Lusher had awoken from the couch, now prancing towards Minah’s room. “Wake up Minah! We did it! The room trick worked!” She shouted, slapping the locked door.

You’ll get them back. But first, “I still really gotta pee,” you turned to Bada in the midst of cheerful chaos, peeling her arms off you.

“Since you haven’t gotten me anything for Christmas, I’ll take watersporting as a gift,” Bada teased, earning an elbow to her guts.

☆*:.｡.:*☆

A/N2: Thank you guys for reading~ hope you all have a wonderful time at this time of the year, and to all my hospitality workers: stay strong, thank you so so much for your service!! Thanks for allowing my self indulging fics (I really should be talking to a therapist than putting y/n through shit but alas)◉‿◉

[chuuwtoy]

ive noticed that a lot of people seem to misunderstand S.T.A.R.S era wesker. i see it in fanfiction a lot where he's a complete and utter emotionless hardass.

i dont think this was the case in canon. working as a captain in a unit akin to SWAT you have to be tough, stern, and the like, but albert also needed to gain the trust of his team - and being unapproachable and feared is not the way to go, and he knows that.

every iteration of wesker is pretty different from each other. peter jessop's version is the one im going to be talking about since that version of wesker is who we see in RE remaster.

wesker is actually quite informal with his alpha team members, referring to them by their first names a number of times, and they don't use "sir" or "captain" on him at all. his tone, and language also give off major chill vibes (although this is probably because his plans are coming into fruition) he's a bit soft-spoken and doesnt sound nearly as sophisticated as he does in most fanfiction.

when i first became obsessed with resident evil i remember analyzing everything in the S.T.A.R.S office, it didnt stand out to me before but there were dart boards, CDs, chris' guitar, etc ... i bet they had more fun in that office than we thought. but what really gets me is that wesker must've allowed them to bring this stuff in (which is really funny because i'm imagining him raising eyebrows at chris bringing in this huge guitar one morning).

he trained members of the alpha team (and maybe bravo team too?) not only because thats his job but because he needed that combat data as well. though, i'd argue that sending people that were ill-prepared is sorta dumb and a waste. rebecca wasnt great at physical combat and brad was... a chicken, you'd think he'd work harder to have them become better but nope. he probably gave S.T.A.R.S leeway a bunch of times.

of course, i think the idea of him being a bit mean and an asshole to atleast one specific person in S.T.A.R.S is enthralling- whether it be chris, jill, a self-insert or whatever! also this wasnt made to bash any headcanons, do what you want! it's all fictional stuff anyway ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧ just thought i'd share my incoherent thoughts (๑>؂•̀๑)