#its not to say not knowing their names is a sin or their entire works or whatever but more how they arent really acknowledged and how

[spacedebris1993]

I really think the worst thing abt ai art is how its damaged mecha art. Nobody really gives a shit abt the designers and illustrators behind mecha cause its all gundam or transformers to them. A lot of ppl can't name the designer of the original gundam and his breath of works nor the works the designer of Optimus Prime worked on besides that, or even who the artists behind the character models for g1 were, but its like. Ive passed by so many ai generated images of mecha thats mashing the works of contemporary asian artists and designers into a fine paste of an approximation of the work those folks do. Its hit everybody hard for sure but i do notice how easy it is to erase that particular niche and let it go by unnoticed cause its always sorta been written off as like. A thing that magically appears on screen. I guess its ironic, given how most mech story tropes are. Can anyone who puts these prompts in even name the panzer world galient designer? Do you even know how few designers there were that actually built the genre? Did you know Votoms and Transformers shares a designer? Do you know which Transformer it even is? Do you know what groundwork he laid for a future work? How about his favorite design? What about the car he designed? The designer of Optimus worked on toys. Do you know where the design from Chromia comes from and the history that has? Do you know the name of the artist who worked on Unicron's concept? I dunno. Its sad, ig, and im sure im not the only mech designer/illustrator out there that feels that way.

[pearwaldorf]

I hate that you can't see a tweet thread anymore if you're not logged into Twitter (as a gesture of disrespect I refuse to call it by its rebranded name). Here is a copypasta of a thread from Dan Olson, a Canadian documentary filmmaker, expanding upon camera quality, the guilt trips Somerton used to goose his Patreon subscriptions, and how the best tools will never make up for lack of dedication or patience. I have added clarifications in [[double brackets]] where I feel it is necessary.

START OF THREAD

Okay, so, back in April I snapped at James in reply to a tweet that was linking to this video (which James has since delisted but not deleted) and I want to talk about the full context of that but I don't want to make a video, put your beatdown memes away. [[The video has since been deleted. I can see the title of the video is "Maybe the end (not an April Fool's Day thing".]]

The first bit of context is that I initially got keyed into James to fact-check his claims about indie filmmaking in Canada. As a filmmaker the entire Telos venture was immediately obvious as a juvenile fantasy dreamed up by someone with no idea how to make a movie.

Just wild claims about their plans that weren't worth debunking because they bordered Not Even Wrong. But in watching one of these pitch videos I noticed that he had a $4000 current-gen camera in the background as a prop, and that seemed both pretentious and weird.

You don't use your best camera as a prop, you use your second best camera as a prop. So being an obsessive weirdo I needed to know, and I watched his BTS stuff until I spotted his main rig, a $6000 camera with about $1000 in accessories.

Now, these in isolation are unremarkable because his Patreon at the time was bringing in ~$8000 per month, his channel was a full on Business business, and so investing in some professional equipment of that level is maybe a bit indulgent but justifiable.

What was weird is that he doesn't shoot multi-cam, doesn't shoot outdoors, doesn't shoot on location, and in a studio the two cameras kinda really step on each others' toes. Basically if you already have one and don't need a B cam there's no reason to get the other.

Again, on its own, this says nothing, it's just indicative of poor financial decisions, maybe impulsive purchasing, Gear Acquisition Syndrome. Biblical sins, but not crimes.

Paired with the constantly inflating fantasy scope of the Telos films it was clearly an expression of a very, very common bad filmmaker habit of "if I just get the right gear then my movie will basically make itself" Buying stuff because it feels like progress.

At the end of February he tweets "I want to start shooting anamorphic" and then three weeks later in March he posts the worst, out of focus, under-exposed "I just got a new lens!" video I've ever seen, showing off his trash-covered bedroom.

Based on what's available for his cameras and the lead time, that's enough time to get a Laowa Nanomorph or Sirui Saturn from B&H but not enough time to get a Great Joy from the UK or a Vazen from China. And with the flaring blah blah blah, $1300 lens.

Again, [gear acquisition syndrome] is not a crime and these lenses are budget options. Bit of a pointless impulse purchase since he only used it for the Showgirls video. But this is what he was doing just a few weeks before that above video came out: effortlessly impulse purchasing lenses.

James has (had?) a habit of regularly, aggressively driving viewers to Patreon by claiming that videos were getting demonetized. While tacky, it is something a lot of queer YouTubers have dealt with, so there's precedent there. But people were noticing he did it a lot.

Mid-March he humble brags about needing to work so hard to make 6 videos in April because he has over-booked sponsorships.

Then March 29th James posts this whole incel screed on Twitter about how sex work should be "subsidized as a mental health service."

[two image descriptions.

1. "For the majority of people sex (and human contact) can be imperative to a healthy state of mind. A kind and talented sex worker can make someone feel wanted for the first time in their life. I know sex workers who have pulled people back from suicide just by being there for them." 2. "Not only should (sex work) be legal, but it should be subsidized as a mental health service."]

He spends several days getting absolutely *roasted* for this, just dragged across the pavement and read for filth, and doubles down in the replies the whole way.

So this is the context immediately surrounding James waking up on Friday, and posts the above video and the below tweet.

[image description: "We just got the lowest Patreon payout we've gotten in well over a year. Like, a "maybe we need to rethink things" kind of amount... NOT an April Fools Day thing btw. But I don't know if we'll be making videos much longer."]

Now, this unfolds in kinda two directions. The first is that I'm convinced he was just lying about this income shock in the first place.

There's a million theoretical edge cases about what maybe happened and if maybe he just misunderstood the data or saw a glitch and panicked, maybe one of those happened, I don't believe it, I think he just lied because he was salty about getting dragged and felt owed a win.

A big tell to me is that he doesn't blame Patreon. He says he doesn't know what happened, but let's be real, Patreon screws up all the time, they're the first people anyone blames if anything confusing happens, just as a reflex action, even if it's completely not their fault.

The only reason to not blame Patreon is if you already know that it's not their fault and that any investigation on their part might reveal embarrassing details.

Instead he indirectly blames his viewers for not watching enough, not sharing enough, and not turning on auto-renew.

So regardless of the unknowable truth, this segues into the second, far more offensive direction of the messaging itself. "I don't know if we'll be making videos much longer." "Maybe the end" He explicitly framed this as an immediate existential threat to his channel.

In the video he is vague about everything, leaves a ton of hazy room for plausible deniability on how long the channel can keep going, but the messaging is "I need more patrons right this minute or my YouTube channel is over."

He repeatedly evokes all the "fun stuff" they had planned that would never see the light of day if this didn't turn around right away.

And his audience received this message loud and clear. Tons of people making far, far, far less than him left very heartfelt messages about digging a little deeper to subscribe or up their pledge or unsubscribe from other channels to move their pledge to his.

1200 new patrons in one day.

Since I simply don't believe the income shock was real in the first place that would put his post-"Maybe the end" Patreon income at around $10,000 per month. US. Add YouTube income, he's spent the last seven months making around $18,000 per month.

I have seen creators scale back their capabilities to the bone purely to keep making videos for the love of just, like, making stuff even as their funding evaporated and they needed to go back to a desk job to cover their bills.

You'd have to be so outstandingly reckless with your finances as a channel that a one month spook leads immediately to "channel over, sorry about all the fun stuff we won't get to do with you, our patrons, specifically because you, our patrons, aren't giving us enough money"

And not a spook where you then spend a couple weeks crunching numbers. Oh no. A shock so violent where less than two hours later you're weeping on camera about the channel being over.

Three weeks later he brought a brand new Sony FX6v for $8000 CAD to add to his pile of cinema cameras despite the fact that he was, but scant moments earlier, in such a precarious position that a single bad month would kill his channel.

He stole your money, and for that I'm profoundly sad and angry. That's why I snapped at him in April. I'm sorry I couldn't give you the full context then, and I'm sorry if that anger upset you.

END OF THREAD

[masonmtxo]

Needy

Summary: your boyfriend looks too good to not be loved on when he gets home

Warnings: 18+, SMUT

Words: 3k

Notes: please please pretend you never saw this yesterday. Its my first and probably last time writing smut 🙃 feedback welcome 🩷🩷

You were sitting on your bed, already stripped down to just your underwear as you waited for your boyfriend to arrive back from the match you had returned from yourself only an hour or so before. You had sat in near enough silence on the way home in the car, filthy thought preoccupying your mind as you tried to avoid making eye contact with masons parents who were dropping you home, as all you could think of was slipping your mouth down their son’s length and gagging on him for the rest of the night.

You’d hurried out the car quickly, throwing them a quick ‘thank you’ and ‘see you next weekend’ and almost running to your front door. Once inside, you collapsed against the wall, trying to calm your breathing as your pulse thudded so hard you thought you might burst. You’d never been so horny in your life, slowly grinding your hips, the seam in your jeans pressing perfectly against your clit as you tried to give yourself some form of release, not even managing to turn any lights on in the house before you had found yourself caught up in pleasure.

You had no idea how you’d got yourself so worked up, having watched Mason play in many, many matches previously. But there was something about the way he looked on this pitch that evening, arms bare and damp with sweat, his caramel toned hair looking even sexier under the stadium lights and his body looking sinful under the new kit that adorned it. You hit breaking point when he pulled his top off after the match to trade with a player on the opposing team before coming over to greet you and his family in the stands. His bare chest was glistening with sweat, his chest hair lightly growing through making you want to lick over the soft muscles, the mole on his tummy was begging you to kiss it and his abs that seemed even more pronounced than usual. He had placed a gentle peck on your mouth and you had to stop yourself from chasing him with your lips for more, knowing full well it would be inappropriate to kiss him the way you were desperate too in front of his entire family. He wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you to him as he spoke with his dad, giving you an opportunity to stroke the bare skin of his back as you wrapped you arm around him also. The smell of sweat, grass and something you could only describe as Mason had you near enough drooling as you rested your head on his shoulder, quickly turning your head to kiss his skin briefly in hopes that nobody would be paying any attention. Mason squeezed your waist in response, turning away from his conversation to look at you properly. Within a split second he could read you, desperation for him written all over your face, eyes soft, cheeks tinted pink and lips looking swollen as if you’d been nibbling on them to distract yourself.

He bowed his head towards you, a knowing smirk on his lips, levelling his mouth with your ear to whisper, “Are you horny?” As both his arms came to wrap around your waist, pulling you flush against him.

You blushed instantly, embarrassed that he was able to read you body language so easily within minutes of being in your presence. “Extremely,” you murmured back. You heard him chuckle against your hair as he placed a kiss into it, pulling away when he heard a call of his name from the pitch.

You looked over is shoulder to see one of the coaches beckoning him over, shouting that they needed him in the changing room for a post match team talk with the manager. He stepped back, staring at you knowingly before turning to his family and saying his quick goodbyes. Eventually he turned back to you, a grin pulling on his lips, “see you at home yeah?”

He backed away, still holding your gaze before throwing you a discreet wink and disappearing off down the tunnel. The short interaction with your half naked boyfriend was enough to leave you breathless, but you composed yourself, taking a few deep breaths before rejoining his family, not missing the look his brother shot you, the only one who seemed to have witnessed your interaction.

•••

You finally made it up to your bedroom, a moment of clarity that Mason could be home any moment snapping you out of your moment of self pleasure, your wobbly legs taking you slowly up the staircase and into your room. You instantly stripped yourself down to your underwear, desperate to free yourself from the confinements of your clothes. Sitting yourself on the edge of your bed, you contemplated letting your hands trail down to your panties but you resisted, placing them under your thighs as you sat and waited to help ease the temptation. Tonight, was going to be all about Mason.

And that was the position he found you in not even 10 minutes later, slamming the door shut and pounding up the stairs, knowing exactly where he would find you after your conversation at the match. The lights were dimmed as he entered the room, closing the door behind him, eyes fixed on you. His already semi hard cock twitched in his joggers at the sight of you, perched on the edge of the bed ready and waiting for him.

“What the hell has got into you,” he chuckled, the deepness of his voice causing you to clench in anticipation.

He stepped towards you, pushing your legs apart so he could stand inbetween your thighs, both hands cupping your face as he tilted it up to look into your subdued eyes.

“You looked so fucking sexy today I just want to choke myself on your dick so bad,” you blurted, eyes widening in shock at yourself as the words fell from your mouth. You had hoped it would be a bit sexier, intensify the atmosphere in the room but that plan immediately collapsed as both of you couldn’t help but burst into laughter. In the midst of you giggles, Mason had pushed you backward onto the bed, placing himself on top of you and pressing his lips to yours in a messy kiss as both of you continued to laugh. It was one of the things you loved most about you sex life, yes it could be sexy and serious, but the older you got and the longer you had been together, the more it became less intense, 9 times out of 10 you would be giggling about something stupid as he fucked himself into you. The sex was still just as good and frequent, but the seriousness of it was often reserved for select nights, day to day sex being more light hearted and in way, more intimate.

You kissed for an age, both of you lost in the others mouth as your tongues danced against each other. Mason’s hands trailed up and down your body continuously, until you felt his hand slip into your panties, a finger instantly finding your clit. You pulled away quickly, hand wrapping around his wrist and pulling him from your underwear.

He looked up you in confusion as you pushed him off you, quickly climbing onto him, straddling his crotch and grinding yourself against the bulge in his joggers, “I told you, I wanna suck your dick,” you moaned, his dick hardening to create the perfect amount of pressure against your pussy as you continued to hump against him.

“Fucking hell,” he grunted, the sensation of your movement and the words leaving your lips making his cock twitch uncomfortably in the confines of his clothes, “go on then, have at it.”

He smirked as he watched you trying to hide your excitement, shuffling to yank his joggers and boxers off in one and he sat up to pull his hoodie off, both of you throwing the respective items to the floor. You made quick work of pulling off his socks too, having told him on many occasions you found it weird when he left them on in his desperation to get straight to it.

Perched on your knees between his legs, you took a moment to take him in. His chest and stomach were perfect, toned but still soft enough for you to use him as pillow on nights you would find yourself cuddled up to him. Light flecks of chest hair peaking through, framing his pink nipples that you couldn’t stop yourself from leaning down and circling one after the other with your tongue, his breath catching and letting out a quick moan as you teased him. You didn’t spend long focusing on his chest, desperate to get to the main event, trailing your tongue done the centre of his belly, taking a short diversion to kiss over the mole on his abs. You didn’t have much more skin to trail over until you came face to face with his hard cock, twitching and leaking against the fine patch of hair trailing down from his belly button. He was still neatly trimmed, having only tidied himself up a few days prior. To be honest, you had been together so long you wouldn’t had been put off either way, but one thing he had kept up throughout your relationship was perfect downstairs maintenance and you couldn’t deny it made you want him 10 times more.

Wanting to make him wait, you barely-there traced your tongue down the underside of his cock, stopping at you reached his balls. His whole body wriggled in frustration as he realised what you were doing, groaning your name and covering his face with his arms.

Using one hand to wrap around his thick thigh, you brought the other up to gently roll his balls in your palm as you left open mouth kisses and licks to the soft skin. You were well-associated with this part of your boyfriend, discovering early in your relationship that he loved it when you payed special attention to the often forgotten part of his body.

His continuous soft moans spurred you on, leaving your hand to fondle as your lips trailed back up, eventually pressing your tongue to his cock with more force than before, following the path of the vein that framed his length. You spared him a look just before you allowed yourself to pay at attention to the blunt head of his cock, watching as his eyelashes fluttered in pleasure, his arms uncovering his face as his hands reached to grab the duvet below him, subconsciously knowing what was about to happen next.

“You okay?” You whispered, hand stopping its movements in order to get his attention.

His head darted down to look at you, mind going 100 miles an hour as he took a second to appreciate how divine you looked, thong covered arse in the air, your eyes already fucked out despite your reluctance to let him touch you. Your lips were pouted, so agonisingly close to his dick he could feel your hot breath against him, the sensation causing more precum to seep from his slit.

“Fuck baby,” he moaned, one hand reaching down to thread through your hair, gently pushing your head towards his twitching cock, “please suck me, want your mouth on me.”

You couldn’t help but smirk at the desperation in his voice, letting his hand guide you forward until you were face to face with his red, leaking tip. You felt his hand instinctively clench around your locks as you licked along his slit, nearly moaning yourself at the familiar taste of his cum on your tongue. There was something so sexy about his taste, salty, but nothing like the men you had been with previously where the taste was so unbearably foul you had to convince yourself you didn’t hate it. Flicking your tounge around the edge of the end, you held one hand to his thigh for balance, the other finally releasing his balls to grip the base of his cock. Leaning up, you quickly spat onto his length, trying to make it as sexy as possible but knowing Mason was too desperate for your mouth at this point to even care. Your hand began to thrust, twisting and spreading your spit as you returned your attention to his tip, lips wrapping around the head as you began suckling softly, swirling your tongue repeatedly as you paid special attention to his most sensitive part.

The sound of his breathless moans and the weight of him on your tongue was enough to have you soaking through your knickers, so unbelievably turned on at the way he looked and felt.

You felt his fingers tug your roots, glancing up to see his face, focusing in on the way his soft pink lips were parted, “please baby,” he whimpered, carefully trying to guide your mouth further down his length, “need more.”

His desperate pleas send a spark of satusfaction down your spine, the more submissive side of you that had been largely hidden behind your demeanour felt the urge to please him as you let your lips slip as far down his cock as you could take. You picked up a rhythm, tonguing at the blunt head each time you pulled up, pushing yourself as far as you could until it hit the back of your throat.

Mason’s moans were relentless, a sound you loved more than anything knowing that you were the one making him feel good. You were the one, the only one, who was able to see him so sated and vulnerable, so overtaken by pleasure he seemed to be lost in his own world, eyes squeezed shut, lips prettily parted. The bridge of his nose was tinted red, the way it always was after he had exerted himself, and you found yourself oddly turned on by it, knowing just having your mouth wrapped around his cock was enough to make him look like he had spent 90 minutes running around a football pitch.

“If you dont stop,” his voice was shakey, the sound breaking you from your trance, “I’m going to cum.”

You slid off him with a pop, his hand in your hair helping to guide you, “thats the point,” you smirked, pressing a kiss to the tip as your hand continued to gently stroke his balls.

Mason threw his head back with a groan at your continued assault, not enough to tip him over but enough to keep him on the edge, “I wanna cum in you though.”

He watched as you slowly flicked the tip of your tongue along his slit, licking up the drops of precum as they pearled. “You can after, you can cum more than once in a night Mase,” you smirked knowingly. Your sessions often lasted more than a few rounds, Mason’s stamina coming in handy alongside his ability to get hard more frequently and quickly than any other sexual partner you had had previously.

He seemed to accept defeat, without words guiding your head back down the length of his cock. Once you had reached the point he knew you were comfortable with he released his pressure but sat up on his elbows with a smirk as you continued to push your lips further down until they were wrapped around his base. He watched as you closed your eyes and gagged momentarily, feeling the breaths you took through your nose to control yourself against his public bone. Your eyes flicking open to hold his gaze once you had steadied yourself, his eyes conveying how unbelievably turned on he was and the sight of you taking him fully, literally gagging yourself on his cock. He never forced you to take him fully unless he was playing into a more dominant role, your daily sex life being more about being comfortable and satisfied, but he knew you loved to do it, making your eyes water and jaw burn at the feeling of him deep in your throat.

“Fuck y/n,” he murmured, “such a good girl for me.”

Vibrations from your moans in response caused him to twitch, letting you both know he was moments away from cumming. He let out a number of curses as you continued sucking as fast as you could, gagging every so often in your desperation to deep throat him to his release, you hand gripping his muscular thigh in an attempt to steady yourself.

With a deep grunt and a sharp tug to your hair, you felt ropes of cum spurting down your throat. You slowed your pace as his cock twitched in your mouth, gently suckling his tip through his orgasm, making sure to lick every last drop of cum he gave you.

Pulling off with a pop and a brief peck to the head, you shuffled yourself up his body until you came face to face with him. His eyes were still shut, a look of pleasure plastered to his face, breathing deeply in an attempt to settled his racing pulse. You giggled softly, giving him time to recover, pressing sweet kisses to his jaw.

“You okay Mase?” you whispered, reaching to push his hair from his clammy forehead.

His eyes opened slowly, a small smile tugging on his lips as he looked at you, “you’re so fucking good at giving head you know that?”

“You may have mentioned before,” you laughed, stroking over his nose before pressing your lips together, his tongue instantly invading your mouth, not bothered that you tasted of him.

He pulled away after a while, cupping your face lovingly, “feel better now you’ve got that out of your system?” He asked with a chuckle.

“I’m not finished with you yet Mr,” you retorted, forcefully slamming your lips into his.

[maxibroke]

ᴛɪᴛʟᴇ― underneath red lights ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ― fem sex worker yn x rich ceo seo changbin ᴇxᴛᴇɴsɪᴏɴ― 2.3k ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs― sex work, degradation, praise, public sex, blowjobs, infidelity, religious metaphors, religious mentions.

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ―

Seo Changbin has it all - money, fame and a beautiful girlfriend. So why has he gone every Friday to the red district and paid the same hooker thousands for her to suck his dick for the past four years?

+18 MDNI. Procced with caution.

Seo Changbin is a man of many wonders. rich, handsome and incredibly lucky to still be found around even when he walks the shit covered streets of the red district to see his favorite girl.

If anyone asked, he would deny it, say that they confused him with someone else because it wouldn't make sense. Why would Changbin risk his reputation for a 20 cent whore? Why would he throw away all those years he's spent with his equally influential girlfriend for a cheap fuck? Why would he try to ruin his family name by being in a lawless zone?

He'd say it with practiced confusion in his eyes, concern and offense in his tone of voice ultimately convincing them that they were wrong and apologize to him for making such horrendous assumptions. Later, at night, he would take out a large wad of cash, tuck it within the inside of his blazer and call Yuna, saying he would be home late if at all. He will pull his car out of his company's parking garage and park it on the empty street, walking until he made it outside a neon red light hanging above a door and walking in after a nod from the bouncer.

The first time he had walked into 'District 9' was four years ago - before meeting Yuna, before becoming the CEO of his fathers company and before becoming one of the top 5 most sought out millionaire. He had come in with his friends for Jisung's bachelor party, half drunk and bitching about wanting to have fun.

It was in these glitter covered floors, red lights tinting the entire stage and obscuring patrons from onlookers, that Changbin discovered heaven and hell. Just like now, he had walked in without fear, why would he? There never is fear in sin.

The sole of his expensive dress shoes will be covered in glitter and he would have to send them to get cleaned to not raise suspicions. The poles on the stage glisten under the red lights before a song rings through the speakers with purpose. He finds Nico, the pimp, and gives him three large bills from the large stack without a word. He's been here enough times for Nico to know and walks towards the center, seating himself perfectly in the middle before watching his curse prowl out from behind the curtains.

She had bewitched him four years ago - while his friends had whistled and hollered at her, Changbin had been dead silent. She hasn't aged at all since that day, if anything has changed its her hair that is slightly shorter now but otherwise nothing, almost like as if these walls provide immortalization for those that work here.

The bass thumps harshly against the speaker, providing vibrations through the walls and the floor, matching his pulse as she comes closer to the edge of the stage. There's patrons inside, but they all look busy with other girls and, if he's honest? He prefers to have her attention on him and only him.

Red color and shines on her sweaty skin, hours of work already marking her face with exhaustion, a slight limp that only he sees because he knows her too well and knows the high heels are killing her feet, her hair brilliant red with shadows and her chest bouncing with every step. She's careful even through her exhaustion, to not let them spill out of the flimsy top that barely covers anything, only her nipples and the sides of the thong are settled high on her hips, both shimmery like the glitter underneath his foot.

She looks like a repented sinner, making her way down the aisle to ask God for forgiveness of all her sins.

Then she lifts her head and captures his gaze, a smirk filled with devilish intent as she grabs onto the pole and grinds her pelvis against it, the curve of her ass enticing him to come closer to touch. Its a game at this point for the both of them, Changbin sits in his chair watching her dance while she moves on the stage, enticing him with her body and looks, making him yearn for her soft skin underneath the palm of his hand.

Its a game that he should win, that his pastor begs every Sunday for him and his followers to win. Sin is death, it will infest and contaminate your body until there is nothing left for God to take. Changbin wishes he could follow like everyone else, but when she looks at him over her shoulder in a sultry gaze and ass on full display, how is he supposed to refuse?

He lets her have her fun for a while longer, shifting in his seat and feeling the zipper of his slacks dig into his hard length. She does a marvelous job on pulling her body up the pole, watching enchanted of the strength she has from all her years of work.

When the song ends, she cocks her hip and head to the side, a cute smile on her lips completely different from before and waits for his signal. She had already been somewhat trained when he first met her - but he finished her training and has her molded to his likes.

He tilts his head slightly to the side and lets the corner of his lips twitch before patting the inside of his thigh. She starts moving towards him at the third pat and slips off her heels as she makes her way down the stairs of the stage, leaving them to the side to pick them up when she's done since this is, he, is her last client.

Her walk is tantalizing and never fails to draw him in - she kneels in front of him, between his opened thighs and smiles up at him. He draws his right hand and cups her cheek, feeling his heart flutter as she nuzzles against it and leans her body against his leg fully trusting him.

His left hand is reaching for his zipper, unbuttoning his slacks and lowering his boxers to pull his hard length from its confinements. He holds it from the base and uses his right hand to move her head closer to his crotch. She doesn't even open her eyes nor leans away from the hand on her cheek as she opens her mouth and lets Changbin move her head to slide himself inside.

He sighs in relief, letting himself sit on top of her tongue and bask in the wet heat of her. She doesn't move, she knows that he likes it when he's cock warmed for a little before fucking her mouth, instead she comes closer until her nose is pressed against his curls and exhales through her nose, further relaxing her jaw for him.

It feels like its been an eternity since he last felt her around him - his chest warm and gooey with relief at being able to feel her tongue shift against his length, her pretty hands lightly placed on his thighs and her hair in his hands to remind her to stay still. He moves his left hand down and lays it above her own; her skin is soft and warm underneath his palm and she looks at him questioning. Its perverted, the way she can make herself look so innocent when her lips are stretched around his thick cock.

He pats her hand and shifts his hips deeper into her mouth, the sign.

She lets him guide her head off slowly, suctioning her lips in a tight circle for him as if she was trying to suck the soul out of him until she at the tip of his cock.

She lets him guide her head off slowly, suctioning her lips in a tight circle for him as if she was trying to suck the soul out of him until she at the tip of his cock to let her suck on it before pulling her off completely with a pop, hair wrapped around his fingers as he forces her to keep her eyes on him.

"Ready, baby girl?"

Chris smiles beautifully at him, flashing her cute dimples again before saying a soft 'yes' and opening her mouth for him. He's never needed more than that when he's with her.

Even though Chris has opened her mouth as big as she can, it is always a tight fit for him - sucking him in without warning or care and he's loved it since day one. Her plush lips wrap around his girth, moaning as he pushes her head further down until her nose hits his pelvis. He pants as she tries her best to wrap her tongue and massage the vein popping on the left side of his cock, eyes closed in concentration. He repeats the motion as before but he doesn't let her pop off his cock this time, instead moving her back down to swallow him whole. She doesn't gag on him, she never does when it's this slow of a pace - but in a few minutes she will have tears in her eyes and a mixture of spit and precum dripping down her chin onto her beautiful chest.

 For now he enjoys the slow drag of her mouth's walls and she sucks him deep, so accustomed to him that he can’t help but let himself imagine. In his head, she’s on her knees just like right now, but instead she’s wearing the finest of gold. Dainty necklaces adorn her neck, diamond earrings dangle from her lobes and cuff gold earrings decorate her helix ones. Gold rings with rubies and emeralds and fire opals decorate her lovely fingers, charm bracelets custom made just for her jingle with every movement of her dainty wrists as she holds his hands while he thrusts into her wet heat - dark red lipstick staining his cock. She wears nothing more than that, kneeling on a custom made cushion so that her knees don’t bruise and shift them, rubbing them together, letting him know just how desperate she is to have him inside of her pretty cunt.

He imagines that she’s just as tight and warm and inviting as her mouth. Sweet moans spilling from her pretty pink plush lips, begging for more. She’d mold herself into his shape and form, tightening around his cock and sucking him inside, holding her hands as he leans down and kisses her -

She brings him out of his fantasy humming around his cock and making it jump against her tongue. She giggles at the feeling, her eyes wide open with mirth and he sees the challenge in her eyes. He smirks down at her before tightening his hold on her curls, tips her head slightly backwards and thrusts into her mouth, making her groan. He picks up his speed, thrusting harder and faster, her hands gripping onto his slacks to hold herself stable. He watches fascinated as she finally chokes and gurgles around his cock, spit dribbling from the corners of her mouth as tears begin to cascade down her cheeks, mascara running and ruining her pretty make-up she did for him.

He feels himself pushing towards the edge, and when she opens her red rimmed eyes and an impossibly clear smirk even with her lips occupied, he pulls her off of him harshly, replacing her glorious mouth with his hand as he brings himself to completion. She already knows what she has to do: she sinks lower and pushes her chest forward, opening her mouth and sticking out her tongue letting the head of his cock bump into it until he peaks.

He cums like an explosion, white streaks decorating her lovely tongue as she accepts everything he has to offer before he closes his eyes to white pleasure. His hand is replaced quickly for her own soft one, working him through his powerful orgasm until he twitches in her grasp from over stimulation. When he opens his eyes, finally, its to see her meticulously tuck him back into his boxers, buttons and zips up his slacks.

She sits there for a minute, watching him come down from his own Heaven and he thinks she's cute waiting for him like this every time.

He wishes this could last forever, but it doesn't. It never does, it never can. She notices when his demeanor has changed and pushes herself off the floor with his thighs. He sighs deeply, as he follows suit and produces the wad of cash out of his inner blazer pocket and hands it to her. Their fingers graze for just a second and he feels his skin light up in ways it never does with others, with Yuna.

"Same time next week?" She says, her voice angelic and sweet. He finally looks at her and feels his heart tear. Her eyes have always given away her inner thoughts and feelings - there's an emotion there right now, one he cannot name, one he shouldn't name but recognizes.

That same emotion reflects in her eyes from his own feelings, buried deep inside of his soul except for nights like these. Tomorrow he's going to wake up beside Yuna, dress in his Sunday clothes and drive them to church where they will sit with his parents and listen to the pastor say to repent from sin.

He wishes it where that easy, but it isn't when it looks like her.

He leans forward and presses a kiss on her forehead, sweet and filled with years of longing that he represses and she waits.

"Where else would I be if not here with you?"

[theflashesoflove]

obstacle I

Larissa Weems x f!reader (nsfw) – series

part I :: part ll :: ao3

summary: Could you be more careless? Talking to a stranger online and sharing the most intimate moments of your days with her? The way you trusted her was almost ridiculous, but the way she talked to you made you sure that this grown woman wouldn’t even consider harming you in some way. One would think you were a fool who would regret her messages one day, one would even point a finger at you and say how perverse all of it was. Luckily, no one knew. Except for Lydia, your mistress, to whom you granted not just your body, but also your heart.

a/n: i always dreaded writing series, but this woman inspires me so much that i'm finally up for the challenge. i hope i will be consistent with my writing enough to bring this story where i want it to be. filthy, angsty and gentle. i think there will be two or three more chapters and it is also crossposted on ao3. btw i have a vague idea of what architects do so if you notice some factual mistakes let's pretend that in my silly imaginary world things work this way. the names of the chapters are lyrics from interpol's 'turn on the bright lights' album (it's brilliant, a huge recommend if you like male manipulator music like i do haha). proofread, and i hope it doesn't sound as broken as i think it does. (bracing myself) let's set this little bird free into the wild.

general warnings/tags: unhealthy online relationship, dom!larissa x sub!reader dynamics, sexting, nudes, masturbation + angst and all that stuff to come

chapter word count: 4k

Part I: you are linked to my innocence

Sitting on the balcony, you admired the sun slowly crawling up from its slumber, painting the sky with faint yellow and pink shades, warming up the cool earth. The view before you made you smile. Perhaps having trouble sleeping had its benefits – you could admire such a beautiful sunrise and feel at peace for at least the next hour, before the world would wake up and start swirling around you, overwhelming and demanding. 

Thinking of someone who was also so very demanding, you pulled out your phone and started recording the serene scenery. You tried to hold your phone still, though it was hard because of the chilly wind that made you shiver. Ending the video, you opened the messenger and sent it to a woman who made your heart sing just like the morning birds sang, greeting the sun.

You scrolled up your message history with her for a bit, smirking. What a sweet little relationship you had, one time you would send her a beautiful view out of your window, the next time – a picture of you touching yourself in the most sinful way.

Couldn’t sleep again? and What a lovely view, she replied an hour later. Not as lovely as you, though, she added after.

﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉

Her name was Lydia and she had just the right way with her words. She would text you, Send me a picture, and you would rush out of your meeting to the bathroom to send her a selfie. She would text you, What a beautiful shirt you are wearing, unbutton it for me, and you would spend a bit more time in the bathroom sending her picture after picture. 

You didn’t know what she looked like. She rarely sent you pictures in return, and you had only one 10 seconds long video of her touching herself. Her fingers were slender, her nails were painted a burgundy red colour, and she had those plush thighs that you wanted to squeeze with your hands. She was a woman of exquisite taste – taste in music, in foods, in lingerie.

You never asked her for more. It was entirely your choice to reveal your face on one of the first videos you sent her. She once told you, Don’t call me by my name on those videos, call me your mistress. You obliged. You always did. An impulse to ask the woman if she could reveal her face bubbled up inside your chest from time to time, but you pushed it away, never willing to make her uncomfortable. Perhaps there was something she didn’t like about herself, perhaps she wanted to be more mysterious and enticing, perhaps she just needed a bit more time – and it had been a year! Never being a selfish one, you suppressed your questions and played by her rules. 

She knew a lot about your life. You didn’t realise that you barely knew about hers. You knew that her work was stressful enough to make her speak to you in an especially dirty way in the night, urging you to send new videos for her to let off steam. You could only imagine her, spread on her bed to your sinful sound and pleas. You would tell her, i wish i could see how pleased my mistress is right now, nudging her to send you a picture in return. The woman would just answer, Don’t doubt it, I am very pleased with my darling girl, thank you and end the conversation until the next morning. You knew that she played piano and was popular in high school, though a bit overshadowed by her best friend at the time. You knew that she liked long walks in nature, ice skating and that her favourite season was autumn. She never pressed you to share any details about your life, but you did it nonetheless. 

It all started rather accidentally, and you told her millions of times how glad you were that she found you. There was an old record player that you wanted to sell online, and you even gave out a Fleetwood Mac vinyl in addition to it for free. The woman contacted you, anonymous at that time, though she contacted you too late, and the record player was already sold. It didn’t stop the two of you from continuing the conversation, talking about music and antique pieces of furniture she adored. After that, everything escalated quickly – topics changing topics and bringing you into dynamics you didn’t know you would enjoy this much. She teased you a lot, and at first you acted shy and hesitant, bending under her dominance and unravelling your own fantasies over time. She wrapped you around her finger, and on one particular evening you sent her your first video. The woman made it clear that she was hopeful to receive more of those in the future. 

Could you be more careless? Talking to a stranger online and sharing the most intimate moments of your days with her? The way you trusted her was almost ridiculous, but the way she talked to you made you sure that this grown woman wouldn’t even consider harming you in some way. One would think you were a fool who would regret her messages one day, one would even point a finger at you and say how perverse all of it was. If you told any of your friends about Lydia, they would tell you that you went nuts. They would tell you to stop texting her immediately and delete the chat to destroy the blackmail material that you’d shared with a stranger. Luckily, no one knew. Except for Lydia, your mistress, to whom you granted not just your body, but also your heart.

Back in the day, you suggested moving the conversation from reselling website direct messages to a more convenient messenger, one that the woman hadn’t heard of before. It took her two days to create an account for contacting you there. Her profile picture was a bush of red flowers, her personal information included just a lyric of a song she liked, and all of it was only for your eyes to see. Not much, but her empty profile on an app which she signed in just for you never aroused any suspicions. Well, sometimes it did, but then she would ask you how your day went and the sweetness of the texts the two of you shared washed your worries away. 

In fact, it wasn’t all about sexting. You could see that she was genuinely interested and caring, and you didn’t send her pictures and videos every day, after all. Maybe… three times a week? Five if she was desperate. She woke up earlier than you if you managed to fall asleep the night before and always brightened your day from its beginning with a sweet ‘Good morning, darling’ message. She always wished you a good night and checked in throughout the day, answering your texts and moving the conversation forward. Sometimes she would even send you flowers, and a delivery man would call you and ask for the address. The man would appear on your porch with a delicate bouquet later, a card attached to the wrapping would say, ‘To my favourite girl – L’. You could only giggle and smile to yourself for the rest of the day. No matter how hard you tried to get her number to send something in return, the woman would always brush you off. You can send me a picture in return, she would text you. That was exactly what you would do next. 

You’d always start with pictures. On days when you felt especially good about yourself, you didn’t even wait for her to ask. Undressing, you would send her several pictures, losing yet another piece of closing on every photo. Sometimes it would take her too long to reply, and you would record a video for her in advance. There wasn’t any surface in your house that wasn’t caught on camera while you would thrust your fingers inside, making it all pretty and appealing to look at. The sounds you made were an absolute turn on for her, and you always ensured that you put on a good show. It wasn’t even necessary to try hard, you would just recall all the dirty messages she sent you over the course of your relationship, you would imagine how it would feel to be held by her, how those long fingers would pound into you, how her lips would tease your flushed skin. You had a good imagination, and it was enough. The tiniest bits of her that were available to you – all of it was enough, that was what you were trying to convince yourself of. A hopeless romantic you were, blindly expecting that one day she would surprise you and reveal herself, and tell you how much she wanted to meet you in person. Still, it never came. That day never came, and you tried not to overthink it. You were supposed to be grateful for what you already had, after all.

﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉

I have a very important meeting today and I just know that it won’t go easy on me. Can you please bend over your desk for me this evening, dearest? Lydia texted you a few hours later after receiving the video. 

of course, mistress, you answered playfully. your boss doesn’t give you a break, huh? ;)

Thank you, darling girl, I’ll be waiting, she replied, ignoring the message about her boss. 

You made sure to text her during your lunch break, checking if she didn’t forget to eat in between her piles of work. She told you that she had a snack and it was very nice of you to bother. A couple of hours later she asked how were you feeling since you didn’t get any sleep last night. You told her that you were running on energy drinks and green tea and she jokingly scolded you for the energy drinks part. It made you bite your lower lip, how caring she was for you in return.

The desk in your office was never neat. Scattered papers, your laptop always on charge, heated up with architect software. You hunched over the plan with a pencil in your hand, making sure that the plumbing system of the building made sense at all. Working in a reconstruction and restoration company, you never really got a chance to do the part you studied for in the first place. Always checking other architects’ plans and fixing their mistakes for them, not having the opportunity to do something of your own. Your days were filled with somewhat ridiculous tasks yet even those managed to make you feel the struggle of workload.

The surface of your desk shuddered when your phone buzzed with a reminder about forthcoming meeting, and you straightened, feeling a familiar ache in your lower back. You threw on a jacket, took your phone and notebook and left your office, politely smiling at coworkers passing by. 

The meeting went as smoothly as always – at least you enjoyed the working atmosphere of the company. Your boss talked about the updates in the company policy and proceeded to inform the staff about upcoming projects. He announced that the Principal of Nevermore school contacted them for the reconstruction work, and your coworkers didn’t even try to hide their opinions on outcasts and how infamous the school was, especially after the causality that happened a few months ago. Not paying attention to their grumbling, you thought it would be a great opportunity to finally show your skills, and your boss thought so too.

“Y/N, you will take over this project. I’m passing you the papers with details, I feel like the time to shine has come!” he said, approaching your seat with a folder in his hands. Some of your coworkers sighed in relief, glad that they wouldn’t be involved with Nevermore. It made you wince – you never thought badly of outcasts like the majority of others did, the idea of being hostile towards someone just because they were different made you nauseous like it would do to any decent person. “The Principal insists on cooperation, and I have to warn you – you will probably have to visit the site more times than would be necessary for a usual project. I hope it won’t be a problem,” he said with a light smirk.

You smiled and bit your cheek, anticipation tingling on your fingertips. “No, it won’t be a problem. Thank you,” you uttered, taking the folder. “When am I supposed to start?” 

“Next week. We arranged a meeting with Principal Weems, she said it was very important for the school, and I quote, ‘to thoroughly negotiate the reconstruction process’.” 

The school was enormous, but the work was connected to a relatively small part of it, a tower that was destroyed recently. You spent the rest of your evening studying the documents – an old plan of the school that included the tower. It was impressive how old this building was. Besides, you would be taking part in preserving and reconstructing the historic site, the whole prospect of reconstructing a part of Nevermore ensemble sounded like a dream coming true. The fact of such a project being granted to you to work on would be unbelievable if deep down you didn’t know the reason for it. It seemed that no one from your company wanted to work with Nevermore, but the school was about to pay generously, so they had to find someone to 'deal with the outcasts'. How foolish your coworkers were for declining such an opportunity, you thought, smiling to yourself.

﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉

Back home, you didn’t bother to change into your indoor clothes, knowing full well that you would need to be completely naked soon anyway. Having had a quick meal and relaxed on the couch, closing your eyes for a little too long than you planned, you finally entered your bedroom and started setting a scene. Sometimes the lengths you went to make a perfect video for Lydia made you embarrassed, but how could you do it any other way? The woman’s attention was worth all of your efforts. You cleaned up your desk, returning previously forgotten mugs to the kitchen, shoving papers into the desk drawer and moving the pile of laundry laying on the floor out of frame. The curtains had to be closed for the last sun rays entering your bedroom not messing with the lighting on camera, the cosy shine of a garland and the dim light of a bedside lamp would be enough to illuminate your form in the most lovely way. You checked your reflection in the mirror and wiped away a few particles of mascara from under your eyes. For a second you tensed, your insecurity taking over. Would Lydia like you as much if she saw you in person? Wouldn’t she be disappointed that a flawless image you tried to create for her wasn’t as flawless in real life? Perhaps that was why she didn’t want to meet up in the first place? Did she already know that wasting the time of her busy schedule would completely disenchant her perception of you? You took a deep breath and shook your head, backing off from the mirror. It was alright. She liked you. Still you desperately wanted to be perfect for her. 

The next thing you did was distract yourself with having fun and a bit of a struggle with setting up a phone stand out of books. After you were sure that your phone wouldn’t slide down halfway through the recording, you set a 10 seconds timer and started slowly unbuttoning your shirt to catch the process on camera. The photo turned out just the way you wanted from the first try, revealing the right amount of skin and a glimpse of your lingerie. It didn’t even matter in the end, but you were always attentive to details. Completely taking off your shirt, you grabbed your phone and took the second picture – a close up of your lacy bra, nipples visible through the fabric, collarbones calling to be showered with your mistress’ kisses. The sound of timer counting down rang across your bedroom once again, you unhooked your bra to send it down onto the floor and stepped back, already topless, unzipping your pants and craning your neck to the side with a soft smile on your lips. Oh, how much you loved spoiling Lydia even if sometimes it stressed you out to the point of worrying about your imperfections. Your pants made their way onto the floor as well, out of the frame, of course, and as the next timer started counting down, you rushed to your desk to bend over it prettily, exposing your cheeks for the last photo. Then, you returned to your phone and sent pictures to Lydia, smiling to yourself at the thought of her ending her tedious day of work and seeing your message.  

It took you a fair amount of time to warm yourself up for the video by bringing yourself to the edge with a vibrator, uncomfortably sprawled in your chair and growing hotter with every second. You barely managed to stop yourself from climaxing, removing the vibrator from your clit and standing up on wobbly legs to continue your filming session. The phone was settled into its makeshift stand again, the sun finally settled, not peeking through the curtains anymore, which made the scene look especially intimate in the dimmed lights, and you were ready to absolutely ruin yourself for Lydia. After pressing the record button, you bent over your desk once again, and massaged your cheeks, squeezing and pulling to reveal your glistening sex. Having satisfied your need to tease the woman a little more, you spread your legs wider and took a toy that rested on the desk the whole time.

Teasing your wet entrance with the toy, you pleaded into the silence of your room, “Oh, please, fuck me… fuck me, mistress, please…”

By the time you finished, you were worn out – the position was rather uncomfortable, especially when you had to work with your hand from behind. You pressed the side of your face against the surface and sighed happily, “Thank you, mistress, you are so good to me.” There was a deep red mark of the edge of the desk on your knee, the wood was digging into your skin almost the whole time you were filming after you decided to move your leg higher for better access and view. The awkward scene of you grunting as you lifted yourself from the desk and padded over to your bed to stop the recording was cropped out later. 

An hour passed by, and Lydia finally answered your messages, saying that she was done with the meeting and work for the day, ready to witness you coming undone for her. 

You look absolutely ravishing, dear. Let me see how you used that toy on your pretty pussy?

are you already in bed? You asked, trying to withhold the sweet video a little longer.

No, darling. I’m taking a bath right now, she answered, arousing the urge in you to ask her if she could give you at least a glimpse of her body basking in the warm water. You didn’t ask her. 

I need you, came a text seconds later, and you couldn’t resist her anymore. 

The video went on for about 11 minutes, you didn’t know if you should have made it shorter or longer for her liking. You wondered how long it would take her, you wondered what she would use to pleasure herself and how it would feel to be with her in that moment, spreading shower gel all over her breasts and teasing her with your thigh pressed against her core. You wondered how it would feel to just settle in her lap, wrap your hands around her shoulders and hide your face in her neck, revelling in her presence.

The waiting after sending her those kinds of videos was the most tortuous one, you didn’t yet know if she liked the video or not, you didn’t know if it met her expectations, you didn’t know if it even made her wet and eager to pleasure herself. Sometimes you were afraid that she wouldn’t even bother to watch it or to reply to you ever again. Fifteen minutes later, you got a response – 1 attachment. Your heart somersaulted against your ribcage, and you hesitated for a moment before tapping on the notification, prolonging the excitement of not knowing what she sent you.

Those beautiful thighs. Oh, how much you thought about them wrapping around your head, how many times you rewatched the only video she sent you, remembering the patterns of stretch marks along her skin. She looked especially soft and rosy, her wet pubic hair neatly covered her sex, and the foam melted around her body, glistening on camera. The water was steamy and her hand rested on the rim of the bathtub – you could only assume that she was completely spent. 

i would eat you out until those gorgeous legs are shaking, you texted after a while of staring, unable to think straight.

Not before I would be done edging you for hours, she cheekily answered. And before you could think of a suitable response in the same dirty fashion, she sent her next message, Thank you, dearest. I don’t know what I did to deserve you.

A smile spread across your features, so wide it almost started to hurt. You plumped down on the bed and nuzzled your nose into the pillow, vainly seeking her scent that was never there in the first place. Contented that the woman felt about you this way, you closed your eyes and tried to imagine her. Imagine, imagine, imagine – it was the only thing you could do. In that moment, you hopelessly wanted to press yourself into her, to cling to her body and dissolve in her warmth. How much you yearned for her to give you real proximity, to caress your sides as she would bury her face in your hair and fall asleep next to you, breathing peacefully. Or she would let you lie down on her chest and listen to her calming heartbeat, holding your hand and circling your skin with her thumb. 

A couple of red heart emojis were sent Lydia’s way and you locked your phone, turned on your back and looked at the ceiling. Fulfilled and deprived at the same time.

by the way, i was given a new project today! You texted Lydia five minutes later, remembering that you forgot to share the exciting news. i’m so happy, they finally gave me the big girl stuff to do haha

That’s amazing, dear. I’m very proud of you, Lydia answered, making you blush. 

﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉

The next Monday you were on your way to Nevermore – it felt very exciting to leave the office for once to see the site of reconstruction. To your surprise, it wasn’t that long of a ride, you expected the school to be more distant from Jericho than it was. Driving along the road that was framed by thick forest made you want to pull over for a second to take a picture of towering trees, branches tranquilly swinging in the wind, the sun peaking through the leaves. However it would be a bad idea, unless you wanted to be late for the meeting more than you already were.

The building of Nevermore astonished you from the first glance. A dark fantasy, elaborate decorations and old-fashioned high ceilings. You arrived at the brink of evening – Principal Weems didn’t have time for the meeting until 5 p.m. – and the golden hour made the school look even more otherworldly. You didn’t need a tour since you had an insight on what the building was like inside, and the location of classrooms and halls didn’t really change over decades. Approaching the Principal’s office, you adjusted the collar of your shirt and fixed your hair – this was serious, you had to make a good impression on the client. 

﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉

a/n: oh, larissa... honey, you've got a big storm coming

[itneverendshere]

cowboy casanova - rafe cameron AU (one shot)

part ii.

synopsis: no real plot line just me thinking about cowboy!rafe while listening to cowboy casanova lmao...might write a part 2...idk; thought my rafe phase couldn't get worse..but it's WORSAA than ever, drew got me on a leash jesus; anyway enjoy

warnings: cowboy!Rafe Cameron; no smut per se yET; kissing; a LOT of pet names;

word count: 1.648k

You’re smarter than this.

At least, you thought you were. Until Rafe Cameron managed to get his hands on you, and now he’s all you can think about. 

He stands a few feet away, back leaning against the passenger's side door of his truck. His arms are crossed over his chest, biceps straining, against the sleeves of his white t-shirt.

Holy fuck. 

Had it been his usual tank top and you'd be on your knees the second you saw him.

Instantly, his gaze turns towards you, indiscreetly sweeping down your body. He tips his hat in greeting, seemingly oblivious to the fact that his eyes are wandering as if he isn’t practically undressing you in his mind.

“Missed your face, darlin’.”

His eyes linger on your lips as your tongue traces its outline. The intensity in his gaze deepens, a dark heat simmering behind his blue irises. The air between you becomes charged with palpable tension as if a silent understanding passes between you.

“Can’t say the same thing, Casanova.”

He thinks it’s real fucking cute when you act like you don’t care about him. 

“Breaking m’heart,” Rafe's smirk widens, and he takes another step closer, closing the distance between you. One of his hands finds home in your waist, wrapping his warm and calloused fingers around the skin, the contact sending a jolt of awareness down your spine.

His presence seems to envelop you, and his voice drops to a low, gravelly tone, “Be nice.”

It’s entirely too hard to focus when he’s this close and all you can do is remember the last time you saw him. 

Last time, you didn’t expect things to get heavy so easily, but you couldn’t complain when you were pressed too snugly against him on the back of his truck, with your dress off and one of his hands, the same one he’s touching you with now, hooked under your ass. 

You clear your throat, slowly becoming yourself again, “What are you doing here?” 

His index finger is hooked under your chin, “Already told ya sugar.”

“And I know you better than that,” You flick the brim of his hat with your finger, “Spill, cowboy.”

A few tendrils of dark blonde hair slip loose over his forehead, and you fight every goddamn sinful thought in your mind. Like, how you had a fistful of his hair in your hand while you sat on his face.

Every time he turns those burning eyes on you, you feel something tighten deep within you. 

“Missed ya’, that’s all.”

His words give you a surge of stupid confidence roll, and you reach up, plucking his hat off his head before plopping it down on your own. His lips slowly slid into a sly grin as you tilt your head back slightly.

Rafe thinks it’s so cute when you get all red and flustered by his frame pressing against yours. His knuckles brush against your jawline, his grin melting into the sweetest smile. 

“And you wonder why I can’t get enough.”

A breath hitches in your throat, your lips parting in surprise. As much as you want to pull that beautiful mouth against yours, there’s a lot more to you two than meets the eye. You’re not supposed to do this…feelings were strictly prohibited the moment you started sleeping around with the Rafe Cameron.

You know better than that. 

“Don’t go all soft on me now, Cameron.”

He brushes a kiss on your cheek, and it takes every ounce of self-control to hold yourself back.

Rafe’s breath is ghosting over your neck when he leans over and asks if you’re doing all right. He knows exactly what kind of effect he has on you, and you hate it. 

“Lookin’ real pretty today sugar.”

“You think so?”

You want to argue back and call him out on his bullshit, but you don’t. You’d been working an eight-hour shift at the bar and after putting up with disgusting men all night, it feels nice to have someone call you pretty instead of a nice piece of ass.

His tongue darts out, sweeping over his bottom lip and your eyes track the movement like it’s the most mesmerizing thing you’ve seen in your life.

His lips stretch into a smug, satisfied grin, “Want me to prove it?”

“You wish.”

So maybe you’re also a terrible liar and your body likes to speak for itself. 

Rafe’s lips roll between his teeth as he fails to stifle a grin, “Is that why you all pressed up against me, sugar?

He loves the way you pretend to be surprised when he calls you out on your bullshit. 

Especially loves the way you always whine out that you really shouldn’t do this again when he got you in his bed, lips swollen from his kisses, and chest heaving. 

“You’re the one pressed up against me.”

“Yeah?” His hands glided with gentle precision up your arms, their touch leaving a tantalizing trail of goosebumps in their wake. The roughened calluses on his palms make delicate contact with your skin, further heightening the electrifying sensation.

As his hands continue their exploration, they caress over your shoulders, exerting just the right amount of pressure to melt away any tension, as he moves over your shoulders and cups the side of your neck.

You’re still marked up from the last time he had his mouth on you and it makes his chest swell with pride.

“Yeah.”

“Too bad, ‘cause I have no intentions of letting go, darlin’.”

Your hands fist the sides of his shirt, trying to give yourself something to keep you tethered to reality, “Cameron.”

“Got you right where I wanted ya.”

“Acting like you ain’t got a string of women pining after you.”

You try so valiantly to keep your voice from warbling, but as he kisses down the column of your neck you can’t help the sigh that slips through your open lips.

“Only want one,” Rafe tuts against your collarbone. You screw your brows together and open your eyes to look down at him as he pauses his administration to get your attention, “She’s right here.”

Your mouth drops open a little wider as his words work their way through your mind. 

You find yourself momentarily speechless, unsure of how to respond to his unexpected declaration. His statement carries a weight that you hadn't anticipated, and it takes a moment for it to fully sink in.

As you gaze down at him, your eyes meet his, searching for any hint of jest or insincerity. However, what you find in his gaze is a genuine sincerity and affection that leaves you breathless.

A mix of emotions swirls within you—shock, disbelief, and a glimmer of hope. Part of you wants to question his words, to delve deeper into his intentions and understand the magnitude of what he's saying. But another part of you simply wants to savor the tenderness of the moment, to bask in the vulnerability and the possibility of something more.

You feel his lips press against your collarbone again, his touch both comforting and electrifying. It sends a shiver down your spine, and you can't help but let out a soft sigh. The sound escapes your lips, betraying the longing and desire that are now coursing through your veins.

“You mean that, cowboy?”

“Got my hat on ya, don't I?”

You don’t wait another second, before grabbing the collar of his shirt and tugging him down to meet you as you rise on your toes. His lips are just as hot as his hands as they meet yours tentatively as if he’d never kissed you before. Your hand slides behind his neck, using it as an anchor to keep your knees from buckling.

Then, in one swift motion, his hand slides below your ass and hoists you up on his lap, pushing your back against the truck. You realize he’s holding your entire body weight with just one arm, and it almost makes you cum on the spot. You can feel yourself growing wetter at the idea of his strength.

So maybe you like it when Rafe Cameron manhandles you…who wouldn’t.

Breaking off for air, you rest your forehead against his, eyes closed, “Showoff.”

He grunts against your lips, “Only for you, sugar.”

You groan, pulling him back to your lips. He chuckles against them but stops as your fingers delve into his hair. Rafe pulls you closer, so your core is pressed up against his, and you squirm at the feeling of him slowly grinding into you.

His fingers brush against the bare skin of your waist where your shirt has ridden up, sending a shiver through you. A whimper escaped as you part your lips and his tongue plunges inside.

He tastes exactly how you remember, whiskey and cigarettes. You hate smokers, and yet he still pulls it off. He smells like he's yours.

His right-hand slides around to cup the back of your neck, tilting your head back to give him better access to your mouth as his tongue swiped greedily against yours. 

Rafe pulls away, both of you panting to catch your breath, his forehead pressed against yours, “Not fuckin’ you against my truck, sugar.”

You’d let him fuck you anywhere at this point.

“Inside, then?” You rasp before you can give into temptation, “Need you.”

His forehead falls on your shoulder as he groans, “You can’t do that sugar.”

“Do what?”

He grips your wrist, dragging your hand down his body until your palm is pressed against his cock, “Killin me here.”

Rafe stifles a groan when your hand grips the hardness beneath his pants, “Inside, now, cowboy.”

“Fuck, baby—” He meets your gaze through hooded eyes, “Gonna ruin you, yeah?”

Your pussy clenches around nothing as you whimper, tangling your fingers through his hair, “Please.”

“Don’t gotta ask twice sweet girl.”

[mister-a-z-fell]

After some questions about my ‘true’ form and whether or not I have a thousand eyes and a veritable farmyard of creatures emerging from my collar, I have decided to show you this record of an encounter between myself and a certain writer at the latter end of the Elizabethan period. I remember the event slightly differently, but I suppose one has to make room for artistic licence.

I’m assured that if you click ‘keep reading’, the full transcript will appear.

To assist you, I’ve added a glossary at the end.

And no, Crowley, this still doesn’t count as having wheels.

“This is an true accounting of mine own eyes, set down by mine hand this tenth night of September, in the yeare of Our Lord sixteen hundred and one. They will say I am gone mad, for such visions belong to those who dwell in Beth’lem Monastery, but I swear on all that is precious to me, this se’nnight past I saw an Angel.

I was but newly set out from the towne, and some light yet remained to guide my path, when I looked to the east and saw of a sudden a second dawn. T’was no earthly fire; Aye, I warrant you, I am not bestraught! My father spoke, in Harry’s day, of the great conflagration of Edinburgh. He told me that Hell had claimed the sky, for all above was a fury dress’d in crimson and wretched with soot. But here was nothing of red.

I have seen it since in dreams and will, I ken enow, see it as I draw my final breath. Hasten the day.

It was akin to a man. I gleaned as much in those moments when I looked upon it, ere it saw me and my wits fled me. But also unlike a man, for where a man has but one pair of hands were there some severall, and where a man has flesh and bone was there flame. Such pale fire have I never seen but I should think it alchymy, and mine eyes were indeed ensorceled, for I saw colours without name, and things too marvellous and awful to relate. I will. I must. This labour’d span is raised to worthy work, knowing the glory that awaits. But oh, I am affraid. I pray my sins have not snatched the cup from my lips.

This fearful apparition stood upon the hill, and the white fire that was its crown was with the thin night clouds commingled. Its face — no. Of that no more, yet. I cannot. All about was compassed in armillary radiances which turned one within another, the forme entire and every hand with pearlie lustre enwheeled.

Below, the flames of Tuscalonian hue that formed a body for the Presence were so and so girded with armour: bright fragments, the whole twixt corslet and grand guard, matched with cushes; all of nacreous stuff and lapis-ensigil’d but for one place high ‘pon the rightmost thighpiece where the intricate device was marred and running gold in place of gore.

What can wound an Angel? I think on this and tremble as the very earth trembled where it stood, ague-shooke by a low’ring thunder.

I have held golden angels in my palm and have seen them in holy glass and in base iron gaulle, with doves’ wings upon their shoulders. Foh, we are God’s own fools. Its wings were the clouds pierced by stormlight, dark upon light upon dark, and where they moved was printed a world beyond my understanding, witnest through a furnace shimmer.

I saw a flock of stars draw close around it, and it seemed to dote upon them and cosset them as a hunter with his favourite hounds, and I would there have fainted all away an if I had not been fixed in terror. For they were not specks and embers laid distant upon the sky, a sailor’s comfort and guide, but each and each an inferno pluck’d from Heaven; baleful sentinels from which no secret could be hidden. Such fell lights would render trivial the earthly fires of Nebuchadnezzar.

Words are meat and drink to me, yet do I tell this so poorly I should be ‘shamed and nevermore lift a goose-pen. Still, ‘tis no matter for who shall read it? When all is said, I’ll put these lines away and think on them no more. In telling will I win myself a little peace.

Wheretofore had I been silent, so now instantly did I weep, and laugh, and cry out for God’s mercy, and it looked upon me. Od's-me, it turned its Phoebean eyes on me and I saw its face. Above the gleaming corselet had that most blessed igenieur placed a maske of fine, unblemish’d parchment, in th’ likeness of a gentle visage, before the sainted flame. Troth, a kindely lanthorne of such boundlesse compassion that I fell upon my knees and made to crawl into the fire, sooner to know its forgiuenesse. Then did it smile, as no painted visor could, and all my knotted thoughts were ravel’d out and I was at once a babe, a foole, unfolded and sanctuarized. Under this soft and clement regard I swounded, onely to wake in my lodgings, ‘tired, but not tyred, my travells lost beyond recover.”

Glossary:

Beth’lem Monastery — Bishopgate hospital that would later become the notorious ‘Bedlam’.

se’nnight — seven nights — a week

warrant — assure/promise

bestraught — mad

Harry — another name for Henry — in this case Henry VIII

ere — until

ensorceled — enchanted

commingled — mixed with

compassed — surrounded by

armillary — resembling concentric rings set at angles

pearlie lustre — a pearl-like glow

enwheeled — encircled (shush, Crowley)

Tuscalonian — pale straw-yellow

girded — armoured

twixt — between

corslet — armour covering the upper body

grand guard — armour protecting the heart and left shoulder

cushes — armour for the thighs

nacreous stuff — resembling mother-of-pearl

lapis-ensigil’d — decorated in blue

intricate device — complicated symbol

ague-shooke — shivering, as with a sickness

low’ring — threatening/ominous

golden angels — gold coins stamped with the likeness of Michael defeating Lucifer

holy glass — church windows

iron gaulle — ink

Foh — an exclamation of disgust

cosset — fuss over

an if — if

goose-pen — a quill

Wheretofore — while until now

instantly — at the same time

Od's-me — an exclamation: ‘God save me’

Phoebean — relating to Phoebus/the sun

blessed igenieur — The creator

visage — face

Troth — an exclamation: ‘indeed’

lanthorne — lantern

painted visor — an immobile mask

ravel’d out — unwound

unfolded — exposed

sanctuarized — protected/sheltered

clement — forgiving

swounded — fainted

‘tired, but not tyred — a pun: ‘tired (attired) meaning dressed, tyred meaning weary

recover — remember

Addendum:

I’ve been asked to provide a translation for the Latin community. My grasp of Elizabethan Spanish would, I fear, let me down, so this is couched in modern terms…

Este es un relato verdadero de lo que vi, escrito por mi mano esta décima noche de septiembre, en el año de Nuestro Señor mil seiscientos uno. Dirán que me he vuelto loco, pues tales visiones pertenecen a los que viven en el Monasterio de Beth'lem, pero juro por todo lo que me es precioso, que la semana pasada vi a un Ángel.

Hacía poco que había salido de la ciudad, y aún quedaba algo de luz para guiar mi camino, cuando miré hacia el este y de repente vi un segundo amanecer. No era fuego terrestre; ¡te juro que no estoy loco! Mi padre hablaba, en tiempos de Harry, del gran incendio de Edimburgo. Me dijo que el infierno había reclamado el cielo, pues todo lo alto era una furia vestida de carmesí y desdichada por el hollín. Pero aquí no había rojo.

Desde entonces lo he visto en sueños y estoy seguro de que lo veré cuando exhale mi último aliento. Ojalá sea pronto.

Era como un hombre. Me di cuenta de ello en el breve momento en que lo miré, hasta que me vio y perdí la razón. Pero también era distinto de un hombre, porque donde un hombre tiene un solo par de manos había varias, y donde un hombre tiene carne y hueso había llamas. Nunca he visto fuego pálido como éste, a menos que fuera hecho por alquimia, y mis ojos estaban realmente encantados, porque vi colores sin nombre, y cosas demasiado maravillosas y horribles para relatarlas. Lo haré. Debo hacerlo. Esta vida dura merece la pena, sabiendo la gloria que aguarda después de la muerte. Pero tengo miedo. Rezo para que mis pecados no me hayan arrebatado la copa de los labios.

Esta temible aparición se alzaba sobre la colina, y el fuego blanco que la coronaba se enredaba con las delgadas nubes nocturnas. Su rostro... no. Aún no puedo hablar de ello. Todo estaba rodeado de ruedas de luz que giraban unas dentro de otras, y toda su forma y cada una de sus manos estaban rodeadas de un resplandor nacarado.

Debajo, las llamas de color amarillo pálido que formaban el cuerpo de la Presencia estaban cubiertas por piezas de armadura: fragmentos brillantes que, todos juntos, formaban una coraza, y una armadura para las piernas; parecían de nácar cubiertas de símbolos azules brillantes, excepto en un lugar en lo alto del muslo derecho, donde los adornos estaban dañados y sangraban oro.

¿Qué puede herir a un ángel? Pienso en esto y tiemblo como tiembla la tierra donde estaba, sacudida por truenos ominosos.

He tenido ángeles de oro (monedas) en la palma de mi mano y los he visto en vidrio sagrado y en tinta simple, con alas de paloma sobre sus hombros. Buaj, somos los propios tontos de Dios. Sus alas eran las nubes atravesadas por la luz de la tormenta, oscuridad sobre luz sobre oscuridad, y donde se movían vi un mundo más allá de mi entendimiento, presenciado a través de un resplandor como de horno.

Vi una bandada de estrellas acercarse a su alrededor, y parecía adorarlas y mimarlas como un cazador a sus sabuesos favoritos, y me habría desmayado si no me hubiera quedado helado de terror. Porque no eran motas y ascuas lejanas en el cielo, consuelo y guía de un marinero, sino cada una un infierno arrancado del Cielo; torvos centinelas a los que no se podía ocultar ningún secreto. Luces tan terribles harían que los fuegos terrenales de Nabucodonosor parecieran triviales.

Las palabras son carne y bebida para mí, pero estoy contando esto tan mal que debería avergonzarme y no volver a levantar una pluma. Aun así, no importa porque ¿quién lo leerá? Cuando termine, guardaré este escrito y no pensaré en él. Contando esto me ganaré un poco de paz.

Había estado en silencio, pero ahora lloré, y reí, y supliqué la misericordia de Dios, y el ángel me miró. mSobre la coraza reluciente El Creador había colocado una máscara de pergamino fino y sin mancha que parecía un rostro amable, frente al fuego sagrado. De hecho, era una linterna bondadosa de una compasión tan ilimitada que caí de rodillas e intenté arrastrarme hasta el fuego, para poder sentir su perdón. Entonces sonrió (como nunca podría hacerlo una máscara), y todos mis confusos pensamientos se desenredaron y me sentí simultáneamente un bebé, un tonto, expuesto y protegido. Bajo esta atención suave e indulgente me desmayé, sólo para despertar en mi alojamiento, vestido, pero no cansado, incapaz de recordar cómo había llegado hasta allí.

[nitrowyverine]

Finally played the TOUCHSTARVED Demo! Still thinking about it over a week later.

(Above: Steam banner image for TOUCHSTARVED from Red Spring Studios)

I love it SO MUCH. and i have QUESTIONS. my extended thoughts below the cut [Demo spoilers included]

General thoughts:

this game is SO up my alley that it's insane. local goth gaming nerd is kicking their feet and giggling

the music? and sound design? It's honestly incredible, even beyond the infamous Every Time We Touch cover (Which is how I found this game). We all have to be giving more props to the music/sound work, it absolutely punches the experience up so many notches. When a soundtrack is released I'm immediately keeping it on hand for all my tabletop needs

absolutely enamored with the backstory mechanic. It adds so much individual depth to the character. you can feel attached to your MC without them being a complete blank slate. I absolutely love that different MC backstories have you pick up different details about the characters. (My favorite is The Hound immediately picking out who the leaders are amongst the group, in contrast to the other MC backgrounds)

I wanna eat the backgrounds. I wanna eat them whole. They're so detailed and colorful and have a great sense of depth. 100000/10

Specific character thoughts/theories:

(Images courtesy of the Touchstarved character Lore posts from the Red Spring Studio socials. I'll be linking them in each of the character's names)

Ais:

Thank you, Red Spring studios, for blessing the players with the ability to bite him if you're an ass to him the entire demo. You truly know what we want

Lore seems to indicate that Ais came over from the demon realm for some unknown reason, and was possibly some kind of demon king or leader? Fascinated to learn what happens there

Ngl the Seaspring looks like it would taste good. My favorite raspberry/rhubarb tea looks just like the Seaspring water. Gimme the group juice.

Question: If Ais gets infected with MC's madness....does that mean. the WHOLE groupmind gets infected? Humans and soulless alike? That's a city-destroying disaster waiting to happen

CONCLUSION: Most likely to adopt 6 dogs instead of picking up the groceries. Least likely to let you have the car aux cable.

Kuras:

I do believe Kuras is the actual best shot at a cure/treatment of all candidates. Assuming the curse is some level of demonic, an angel's touch is probably the best bet.

Let me be clear here though, I do think he might just go "Well you can just like. not have arms" and take them. That is a possibility

Most of the other characters I can get a rough idea of what they want and why. Kuras? I have NO idea what his goal is, which is very frightening.

Twitter bio image does say "Repentant Angel", and that his fatal flaw is "his sins can only be repaid through suffering". Possible linkage to Lovent's fall? Or another major disaster?

its okay sweaty we all get The Guilt (tm)

If Kuras somehow gets MC's maddness (I have a feeling it may not effect him? but if it did) that would just. end the world right there.

CONCLUSION: Most likely to be the one guy you might be able to bring home to your parents. Least likely to put on oven mitts to take a frozen pizza out of the oven.

Vere:

I love Vere for being the character I thought I could trust the least, turning into a character I actually trust allot. I trust him to be extremely dangerous. He probably wasn't lying when he said his heart is on his sleeve.

Also, big props for having him just kill you in one of the demo endings. What a guy, I love him, no notes

Wait what he's over 100 according to his birthday post. thats, allot? older? than I thought?. okay yeah the lore posts mention he's a possible deity figure. not comforting

Vere is very fae-logic coded. Like, the words he says can be true and false at the same time. Don't tell him your name, he will cannibalize you for fun, etc etc ya know fae stuff.

i will protect him always

CONCLUSION: Most likely to fuck your dad. Least likely to be your new stepdad.

Mihn:

Mihn is much dodgier than the rest, but I think that makes them more trustworthy. They're not as interested as playing games.

I nominate Mihn as a secondary protagonist, since Leander, Ais, and Kuras seem to be interested in them quite a bit. Even Vere has a rivalmance kinda thing going for Mihn. If MC didn't show up, that would be the dating sim right there

I'm excited by the lore post and the implications that Mihn is from Lovent (or has traveled there? and survived?) and potentially getting greater lore expansion about the world surrounding Eridia

I think it's interesting that their strength stat is relatively low compared to the others, yet they're one of the characters that actually uses their strength in the demo.

Also, I think we see the least of their "monstrous form" of everyone in the demo (minus their ability to dodge in and out of shadows). I'm thrilled to see what their monstrous form actually entails.

Mihn would survive bloodborne. That's it thats the entire thought

CONCLUSION: Most likely to do all the work in a group project. Least likely to be chill during Mario Party.

Leander:

OKAY ALL OF MY QUESTIONS ARE HERE. I AM DEEPLY AFRAID. Something is absolutely wrong but we have no current ability to pinpoint what it is.

I've seen theories Leander is dead. However, in Vere's route, he mentions that Leander smells like aftershave. While this could be part of an extra-elaborate ruse, hair doesn't grow after death (Minus the appearance of it happening due to natural decay processes) so he wouldn't need to shave. However, I am betting on him being involved in some sort of un-death cycle.

actually I can guarantee his story is all about cycles. Has anyone else mentioned how his belt is the triple goddess symbol.

you know. the symbol of maiden/mother/crone. birth/life/death. beginning/middle/end. like

Moving on, the vast majority of his smiles are forced (Mouth is smiling, but there's no eye movement/crinkle that would indicate it's genuine). That is enough of a red flag but honey I am so much more worried about my next point:

WHERE DOES HE GET HIS MONEY. He's constantly buying rounds of drinks for a packed bar. It's briefly mentioned his clothes are nice. He pays for anything MC needs. However, says Bloodhound rates are "Free". Where does he GET HIS MONEY for all of this. Twitter posts from Red Spring point out he doesn't accept bribes (at least overtly).

WAIT I'M REREADING THIS POST WHAT THE FUCK ARE THE SILENT CRYPTS.

Looking again at Leander's stat post. The Ouroboros in the background is. Not comforting. Also, "Forbidden Magic"? yeah I have a feeling we know why he's not in the Senobium

Theory, potentially Leander is currently being paid by the Senobium to maintain lowtown/Silent Crypts order? I think there's still a connection between them. Like the Senobuim can remain detached while having ties to whatever horrible things Leander is doing.

Okay, in the twitter relationship charts it says that Kuras has looked out for Leander "Since he was young". Kuras probably knows. SO much we don't.

When Mihn scolds Leander for not telling MC to be off the streets past dark. I think Leander intentionally "Forgot" to mention that. I think he wanted the MC to see how dangerous Eridia was so MC would stay closer to Leander for safety. I think it was a very intentional manipulation tactic.

(Furthermore, did he actually cast a spell of luck on MC when he gave them the lilies from his introduction magic trick? Then bet on the MC living through the day?)

I do think Leander's surprise at MC going out to the Seaspring was genuine, since his spit-take clashes so starkly with his cool-guy demeanor.

I also have a feeling that Leander has been past the veil/shroud. he's doing something fucky and the veil is prime fuckery territory.

(Are we...going to get a timeloop story????)

CONCLUSION: Most likely to dramatically use himself as a human bridge over a small puddle (as an excuse to get walked on). Least likely to remember to go to bed after playing Stardew Valley for 13 hours straight.

Touchstarved game things I'm concerned about:

(I feel like I wouldn't be doing my game designer duties if I didn't point out my concerns as well. To be fair, there aren't many.)

I hope the bad endings get fucked up, story-wise. Since it's a horror game, I know it might turn some people off to have things go super wrong, but I really hope they do. I want to see some endless pain vortexes, some real Juniji Ito-style suffering. But I would also understand if the devs want to softball some of the worst outcomes for the sake of widespread appeal.

We all have countless examples of kickstarter games looking strong out the gate, but then falling flat upon release. While I have high hopes for Touchstarved, I do know the reality and intense difficulty of kickstarter games. I'm really hoping the demo isn't the best the studio will have to offer.

OVERALL: I am rooting for the Touchstarved team/Red Spring Studio all the way! I'm thrilled to see where this game goes. I am poised on this purchase button and ready to buy when it releases.

[hyperfixiation-station]

Choice, Choices, Choices Pt. 2

TW: Swearing, canon typical violence

Pairing: Reader x Graves Summary: Well your week off wasn't very productive, hopefully a really stressful, fate-of-the-world-is-in-your-hands mission will help clear your brain. As usual, I didn't beta read, so lmk if there are an errors :) Also sorry for the reupload, I accidentally deleted it whilst trying to edit something lmaooo.

When Price said a lot, he meant a lot. 

In the time you had been gone, a new terrorist threat had popped up, a man named Hassan who somehow had gotten ahold of American missiles. You didn’t even have time to unpack before Price was shipping you off to Mexico to help Soap and Ghost infiltrate a cartel to find the location of said missing missiles. It seems the talk with Graves will have to wait.

You get no rest on the flight to Mexico. Instead you spend the entire time focusing on your and Grave’s relationship. Maybe it’s the threat of imminent annihilation, or maybe it’s the fact that you are going to be seeing him soon, but whatever it is, you were thinking more clearly than you have all week. 

Graves was a man of authority, and you had recognized it from the moment you had met him. He took what he wanted, when he wanted, and made sure everyone knew he was the top dog. In your relationship he always had the last say, always chose the restaurant, always chose the movie. And for the most part, you didn’t mind, enjoying the feeling of not having to be in control for once when all you did all day long was make choices that could mean life or death. 

He had this belief that he could do no wrong, and was smug and uptight and sometimes even cruel about it. 

And yet there was something…alluring about him. Some magnetic charm that drew you in every time you wanted to take a step back. He didn’t even have to try, hell, he had stopped putting effort into the relationship years ago, and yet you still found him almost irresistible. 

You weren’t stupid, you knew what there were issues in the way your relationship worked, but you loved him, and he…loved you too. It wasn’t until Ghost stepped fully into the picture that you realized that may-

“Y/N!” You flinch, your eyes coming up to meet your pilots as his voice snaps you out of your musings.  

“You okay in there? I’ve been yelling at you for at least a minute.” He says over the headset, “Anyways we’re about to land, so get ready.” You nod, shouldering your pack and making sure your vest is strapped correctly. 

5 minutes later, the helo begins its choppy descent. The second it touches down you are ushered off, ducking under the blades in an odd crab run as you make your way to where Soap, Ghost, and 2 strangers stand to the side. The pilot takes off before you've even cleared the LZ. 

“Good ta’ see yer no’ dead lassie.” Soap grin, clasping your shoulder, “Ah trust Price has briefed ye?” 

“Aye.” You nod, “Though he didn’t mention these two. Who are they?”

“These are th’ Los Vaqueros.” Soap says giddy, “Means th’ cowboys” 

“My name is Alejandro.” The taller one on the left tells you.

“Mine’s Rodolfo, tho y’ can call me Rudy.” The one on the right says moments later.

“Nice to meet you.” You incline your head, avoiding Ghost’s searching gaze, “I take it you’re the ones leading us through this, uh…whatever we’re about to do?” 

“Aye.” Alejandro turns and begins walking, everyone else falling in line behind him, “Soap here is infiltrating Las Almas, we are looking for El Sin Nombre. We believe he knows the location of the missiles Hassan has stolen.” 

You climb into the back of a truck, consciously avoiding sitting next to Ghost. The drive is tense, the silence only occasionally broken by questions from Alejandro and Soap. The truck comes to a stop, and you all pile out, getting Soap outfitted for his ‘Day in the life of a cartel member’ extravaganza. 

“Y/n!” You spin around, seeing Graves walking towards you, “How was your week off?” 

“It was good. Did a lot of…thinking.” 

“Wonderful.” He says, his eyes already looking past you. He presses a quick kiss to your cheek and moves past, going to speak with his Shadows. You sigh internally, moving over to Soap and Ghost. 

“How wis yer week off?” Soap asks as a Shadow helps fit his comms. He’s grinning, his blue eyes almost glowing in the dark, but you can see the faint lines of fear in his expression.

“It was since. Did a lot of thinking, I guess.” Ghost shifts, a subtle movement you notice out of the corner of your eye. Your face flushes, and you’re grateful it’s dark out so he can’t see. 

“Let's roll!” Alejandro calls. Soap nods, and you follow him and Ghost back to the truck. This drive is tense for a whole other reason, everyone thinking about all the ways this could go wrong. 

You get to the compound, and take your spot on a ridge with Ghost. No words are exchanged, but you know him well enough by now to tell he is worried about you. If Soap’s life, and the lives of millions of Americans, weren’t at risk, you would be grateful for this mission delaying the inevitable conversation you have to have. 

You both get into position, sniper rifles trained on the building. You wince as Soap is manhandled, a deep pit of fear in your stomach once he disappears from your view.

 Now all that's left is to sit and wait. 

He emerges victorious, much to yours and Ghost’s relief. He brings with him El Sin Nombre, who apparently is actually a woman, and an old friend of Alejandros. You could see yourself liking her, if she hadn’t sold missiles to terrorists.

She is feisty, smart, and cunning. She keeps her mouth shut, refusing to volunteer the location of the 2nd missile, instead goading Alejandro into a frenzy. You watch, eyes narrowed in distaste, as Graves tries to make a deal with her. Not for the first time, you judge his ability to make decisions. 

But she does give you all the missile location. In what feels like a matter of moments, you find yourself on a boat, heading through stormy waves towards an oil rig off the Gulf of Mexico. Grave’s Shadows launch an attack, only for Ghost to find that the missile not only has entered pre-launch phase, but wasn’t even on the oil rig to begin with. Instead, you find it on the deck of a ship, primed and ready to fire. You, Graves, Soap, and Ghost file onto the cargo ship, where you find that there is no way to disarm the missile. 

Your heart sinks, until Shepard has the great idea to turn the missile on the oil rig. Alejadro and the Shadow Company clear out, and Soap hacks in and resets the missile's trajectory. The burning ball of flame is a beautiful sight to see, in your opinion. 

“Gold Eagle Actual, Shadow-1. Good hit. Good hit. Missile and rig destroyed.” Graves crows,  a grin lighting up his face. He grasps Soaps shoulder, and you watch him mouth a quiet Good work, his voice too quiet to hear over the noise of the shadows and everyone celebrating.

Without thinking, you press a kiss to Ghost’s masked cheek, the euphoria of victory clouding your senses. Soap steps in to give Ghost a moment to recover, and gives you a side hug, slapping you on the back a little too hard for your liking. You don’t notice Graves eyes on you, narrowing with your every action. 

The ride back is still tense, the tension between you and Ghost so thick you can almost taste it. Luckily Soap either can’t sense it, or just is just ignoring it, the Scotsman happily chattering away as the sinking feeling in your heart grows and grows. 

The crisis is over, and once you get back you won’t be able to put off your conversation with Graves any longer. 

It’s still raining when you get back to the Los Vaquero’s base. The truck comes to a stop outside the gates, and you slide out of the truck after Ghost, confused and a bit wary. 

“What’s this?” You hear Alejadro’s voice from the other side of the truck. 

“This is the immediate future.” You stop short, Grave’s voice making your blood run cold, “Step away from the gate.” No. There is no way. 

“You’re outta line Graves.” You blink, hard, realizing you had zoned out for a moment. You force your feet to move again, rounding the truck, stiffening as a barrel is pressed into your spine.

“Hey!” Grave’s voice echoes in your ears, “Let her go. She’s with us.” You inhale sharply, looking up at him in shock. Soap looks at you in betrayal, taking half a step towards you before the Shadows are on him as well. 

“Don't do that. Don't... do that. No one needs to get hurt here.” Graves says, eyes narrowed. 

“Are you threatening us?” You can hear the betrayal in his voice as well, though he does his best to hide it. You want to look at him, try and communicate that you have no part in this, but your mind is still reeling, and you’re unable to draw your wide eyes away from Grave’s face. 

“Soldier, I don't make threats. I make guarantees. So, let's not do this.” The animosity in Graves' voice surprises you. 

“I’m calling Shepard.” Soap turns, hand reaching for his radio. 

“General Shepard sends his regards.” Graves' grin is predatory, and you have no doubt he’s enjoying this, “He told me you wouldn’t take this well.” 

“He knows about this?” Ghost’s eyes are dark, his body tense and ready to spring. 

“He's put me in command of this operation from here on out. So, y'all need to stand down. It's time to let the pros finish this.” You watch Graves still, eyes trained on his face, your brain numb with shock. Shock and…disgust. 

“And why the hell are we talking like this is some kind of a negotiation?” Graves continues, “It's not. I've got my orders and now you have yours.” 

“And who the fuck do you think you are, cabron? My men are inside!” 

“I'm afraid not.” Graves pauses, meeting your eyes with a disgusting grin, “Your men have been... detained.”

“Cabron!” For the first time, you manage to tear your eyes away from Graves, your gaze falling on Alejandro as he launches himself towards your boyfriend only to be beaten down and restrained by his Shadows. 

“Graves, what th’ fuck?” Your eyes dart to Soap as he lunges at the Shadow next to him, holding him hostage. You let out a small cry as Graves and his men open fire. You duck behind the truck, watching as Ghost elbows the Shadow behind him before stabbing another one in the neck, quickly ripping the blade back out and hurling it at another Shadow before disappearing into the dark. 

“Get your fucking hands off me!” Your hands fly up to cover your mouth as you watch Graves slam the butt of his gun into Alejandro’s head, dropping him. You stare at Graves in shock, unable to move as your mind tries to process what's happening. 

Soap yells in pain, snapping you from your reverie as you spin to look at him. He’s on the ground, the Shadow he had taken laying dead on top of him. 

“Go, Johnny! Get out of there!” Ghost yells from somewhere behind you “Soap, Go!” You watch as Soap heaves himself up and throws himself over the barrier, disappearing from your view. You slide down the truck, sinking to the ground as your legs give out, your entire body shaking. 

Graves' actions start to sink in, and gods does his betrayal hurt. It’s like nothing you’ve ever felt before, worse than the time you broke your arm, worse than the time you got shot in the thigh, worse than any wound you had ever received. It’s like a physical pain, your heart feeling as though it’s been ripped from your chest. Tears well in your eyes, your fingers digging into your palms in an effort to stop your tears. 

You don’t know how long you sit in the rain, but it’s enough time for you to be completely soaked head to toe. You are surrounded by blood and bodies, and your mind reels as you survey the scene. Alejandro is gone, you’re not sure when he was taken away. Soaps rifle is still laying in the street, a very damming pool of blood underneath and around it. With the amount of blood he lost, you're surprised he's not dead. Oh gods he better not be dead.

“Y/n?” Graves' voice breaks the fog in your brain, “Darling? Are you alright? I know this was...a bit of a surprise…but I’m sure you understand.” 

“Graves…”

To be continued.

Notes: Sorry for how long this took!!! But it's here now! Hopefully Pt. 3 won't take me another thousand years. Anyways I hope you enjoy, and sorry if this is not the direction you wanted it to go :/ Tags: @redhoodxsupergirl @infpt-zylith @scarletdfox

[helplesslypurple77]

~my spirits sleeping somewhere cold~

Summary: The day after the incident you wake with an itch in your throat. And as you stare at the white ceilings of your familiar bedroom, you get a feeling of foreboding.

The dressing process is subdued, the soft feel of clothes on your skin not enough to dull the insistant pain, the large gaping hole in your chest that will never be filled. You choke up lily petals in the bathroom."

Warnings: Hanahaki, angst, major character death, religious symbolism, i'm not religious, flower language.

Notes: this is something, i guess. I've been in really bad shape emotionally lately, and money’s been really tight so all the stress is just welling up i guess. That's part of the reason I topped my other au week thin, I'm just not in the mood to craft plots and write smut. I don't know. 

Title from ‘Jar of Hearts’ by Christina Perry

...

The day after the incident you wake with an itch in your throat. And as you stare at the white ceilings of your familiar bedroom, you get a feeling of foreboding. 

There's a yawning ache in your chest, a cavity that will never be filled. You don't want to get up. You don't want to suffer. You wish god would take you instead of him. But God is not a merciful creature, that you have come to know all too well. 

The dressing process is subdued, the soft feel of clothes on your skin not enough to dull the insistant pain, the large gaping hole in your chest that will never be filled.

You choke up lily petals in the bathroom.

𓇢𓆸

Your cross sits heavily against your breast, under your shirt. You don't typically wear one, the responsibility of God's eyes is too much for you to bear. 

But today you wear it in repentance. 

There's a tickle in your lungs, underwhelming compared to the aching gap in your chest. He’s stolen your heart, taken it with him in death. You turn your eyes to the sky, so as not to ruin your makeup with tears. 

You hate yourself for your pathetic lovesick nature. Yellow petals are choking up your throat, daffodils and chrysanthemums. You spit them into the grass before you enter the detective agency.

You don't need to burden them with your plight. At least not yet. 

𓇢𓆸

You look up the meanings of the flowers when you're in the office, your fingers trembling as you read the words. 

Lilys, purity. Daffodils, rejection. Chrysanthemums, slighted love. You choke down the tickle in your throat, closing the tabs with shaky fingers. 

“The meaning of flowers?” It's Ranpo, pearing curiously over your shoulder. You force a smile, perfect in your broken heart. 

“My friend wants a bouquet.” You tell him, shooing him away too his work. 

And as he meanders off, you congratulate yourself. At least until the petals choke up your throat and you slope away discreetly to the bathroom.

You throw up petals into the toilet. 

𓇢𓆸

A week after the incident you choke up an entire flower. It hurts, the thorny stems of a small rose, its petals a dark unnatural black. You crumple the delicate petals in your hand, muffling your tears into a towel before quickly reapplying your makeup. Covering your dark circles. You haven't been sleeping. 

Death's heavy hand is hovering over your head, weighing you down with the weight of your sin. The sin of eternal love. The sin of pure devotion. 

He stands behind you, death. With his hand on your shoulder, taunting you. He laughs at your misery, at your pain. He plays his melodies of death, his requiem, his Lacrimosa, truly a lady of sorrow. You shed enough tears and pain to be allowed the title, although you have yet to birth the son of god. You don't think you will. You know your death is around the corner. It will come when the bells toll, when the stems growing in your lungs eat at your insides. The pain drives you mad. You choke up as many flowers as you can before you leave for work. 

𓇢𓆸

“Name?” Atsushi says, his hands clutching the papers in his hands. He's a kind boy, cute and sweet. You spare him a small smile, biting back the petals in your throat. The boy shuffles his feet nervously. 

“Are you doing ok?” Atsushi asks, the question almost too much for your delicate sensibilities. You almost cry, try8ing your best to give him a smile. 

“Im doing well.” You reply, the weight of the lie hanging heavy on your chest, the cold metal of the cross judging you.

The boy leaves, called away but he still eyes you, worried.

You wish you fell for Atsushi instead, for his kindness, for his selflessness. 

𓇢𓆸

They're getting suspicious. This you know. But you smile and keep your mouth shut and muffle your choking as much as you can. You don't need to burden them any more than you already have. You must die without a fuss. 

You had long ago learned how to fool Ranpo, how to get around his almost all knowing intellect. For the key was withholding the crucial fact. Because he could not come to a conclusion without it, and you were sick in your misery. You could never burden them. Never bear to see their eyes of disappointment, their eyes of confusion.

‘How could you love him?’ you were sure they would say. 

You couldn't explain, you didn't know yourself. 

And then you couldn't stop the flowers that ripped out of your throat, spilling onto the office floor. The white petals of the lilies were stained red with blood. 

You didn't see much as you fainted. 

𓇢𓆸

You wake in the infirmary, a worried circle of your coworkers surrounding you. The worry on their faces almost makes you sob. You bite back the lilies as Yosano waves them away.

They file out single files, varying looks of confusion on their faces. The door slams. 

“How long do you have left?” It's Yosano, arms crossed, eyes disapproving. 

“About two weeks.” your voice is rough, choked. A petal falls from your lips.

“Is there no solution?” Yosano asks you, her voice choked with emotion. The sigh that escapes your lips is more than a thousand words.

“The dead cannot return the love of the living.” 

Yosano wipes her tears before you see them. 

“Rest.” She says, closing the door behind her.

𓇢𓆸

The meeting is solem, confused eyes meeting red rimmed eyes. All the eyes turn to Yosano as she enters the room, her own eyes red. Fukuzawa is the first one who dares the speak, from his place at the head of the table. 

“What is going on.”

Yosano sinks into a chair, hand scrubbing at her eyes. The words she speaks are damning.

“Hanahaki.” 

The room sinks into a tense silence, a broken silence, a confused silence. The emotions are a whirl in the room, the atmosphere choking, cloying, unpleasant. Someone muffles a sob into their clothes, Kenji or Atsushi or Naomi, it doesn't matter. Yosano composes herself, dropping plain information on the people in the room. 

“She's choking on Lilies and Daffodils, and she won't last much longer.” She says, the words plain and almost cruel. Kenji curls up into himself, his head resting on his knees. Kunikida, sitting beside him, pats his back. 

“Who is it?” It's Atsushi, his voice choked up, his eyes shining with unshed tears. The room is suddenly silent, waiting with bated breaths for the escape, the hope that this could end. Yosano hates to break their fragile hope, but she repeated the words you had said to her. 

“The dead cannot return the love of the living.”

𓇢𓆸

The green bottle sitting in your hand is your escape. Arsenic is a simple plan, easy to execute, to end your suffering. The lilies are choking your throat. You want to escape.

There are letters on your bed, piled around you, addressed to the ones you love. You don't want to leave them, but you don't want to suffer, 

The bottle is your escape. 

With a pop of finality, with a last look at the world around you, you drink the poison. It's tasteless, coloreless, odorless. 

It lulls you into your final sleep. You can see him, your doomed love. Fyodor, standing on the other side. You slip into death with open arms, broken hearted but peaceful. 

𓇢𓆸

Something is wrong. Atsushi feels it, the weight on his chest, the knowledge that you, a trusted coworker and beloved friend are going to die. And theres nothing to be done about it. The meeting is silent, as the words sink in, and then, it is exposed.

People are talking, arguing, yelling over each other, words and questions and angry accusations. Atsushi covers his ear, tears welling in his eyes. 

And then, that feeling, that horrible dawning feeling that something is wrong. Almost silent, he stands, slipping out of the infirmary door, Ranpo and Yosano on his heels. He can see the dread painted on their faces, the same dread that wells in his stomach, which eats him out from the inside. The hallway is short, the infirmary door at the very end, but it feels like forever, like the hallway will never end and you’ll die out of reach. 

But finally, they reach the door. 

It's quiet in the infirmary, the bed that you lay in still, letters scattered neatly around your body. You're too still. Atsushi flies forward, the other on his heels. 

Your face is serene in death, the lilies and chrysanthemums scattered around you, a makeshift memorial. There's a bottle beside your hand, empty. The label is a death sentence. 

“Arsenic.” its Ranpo, choked up and angry, his fists by his sides. Atsushi chokes on a sob. 

The infirmary door opens with a crack, the others joining them. The entire room hangs in a state of disbelief, of despair. And then the accusations fly. 

It's loud. Atsushi covers his ears, eyes dripping small tears onto the floor of the infirmary. He feels weak when he cries, but he’s sure the orphanage director will spare him this much. 

𓇢𓆸

You left them letters. Personal letters addressed to each of them, and even some for the port mafia members. They read them in the meeting room, solemn and silent. 

But there's one letter that sticks out, an unaddressed, blank envelope. They know they shouldn't open it. But they do, and it confirmed their fears and biases. 

For there are only a few words on the paper, a few damning words. 

“From my books surcease of sorrow—sorrow for the lost Lenore—

For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore—

            Nameless here for evermore.” 

𓇢𓆸

They bury you with Lilies, Carnations, and tears. The finality of death painted on your face.

...

Endnotes: I don't know, this exists now. The Raven is a favorite of mine, ever since i read it in middle school. Edgar Allan Poe(the real one) was one fucked up dude

also i know its a little cringy to bend on a poem but i honestly don't care

(also i wholeheartedly believe Fyodor is not dead, but im still crying over it. pathetic i know)

[shinjisdone]

I saw you're doing requests and I do not request often but- Take this if you want?

Yandere! Link (Twilight Princess) (Romantic as I think he's an adult in the game? Sorry if not, been awhile. Platonic works too) with Female! Reader Scenario? (One of my fav games, lol)

Do what you want with it... idk what prompts to ask for :/

If you don't want to do this please tell me! I read the rules and picked something simple :) Take your time! 🐈‍⬛

😳 THE yandere-galore panther taking requests from me? Usually its the other way around haha

Prompts are not a must if you really don't know what you want, though I gotta admit I had to ponder a bit since the request has no specifications. Things are pretty general therefore but I had to add a few things to get creative. This turned out longer since I like to develop Yandereness especially - it's always interesting to see from where the sprout stems from and how it'll grow. Otherwise it feels too forced and sudden to me. Have been following for quite a while, hope you like this!

TW: Yandere behaviour, obsession, long pining, idolization, one-sided feelings, obliviousness, stalking, aggression, blood and killing

Yandere! Twilight Princess! Link Scenario with Female!Reader (Romantic)

All your good deeds turned into sin, it seems.

Or at least some form of karma, but you didn't know enough about that to truly tell. It was just a gut feeling.

You are nothing but a wandering traveller. Knowledge of self-defense goes without saying, especially since the land of Hyrule turned so hostile over time. According to old legend a calamity is soon to approach, which only makes you yearn for serenity even more.

Ordon village sounds so tempting. Small and humble, the entire village feels nothing like the rest of the outside. The people certainly looked at you weird for deciding to stay here for a while - the most exciting thing to happen after all are raging goats!

Thus you were saved from one by a quick-witted, local fellow seemingly grappling with the animal before it calmed down and he offered you his hand. His light brown hair and deep blue eyes were welcoming and you took the offer.

"Thank you."

He said his name was Link.

»»————-　　————-««»»————-　　————-«

The children weren't as relaxed as the adults though. Even as their parents called out for them to help in the shop or with the goats, all four of them would stick close to you, each jumping to your side as they asked questions upon questions about 'the traveler lady!' The rest of Hyrule wasn't something they'd see or even hear from often. It was deemed as exciting to be able to go to the castle town to deliver some milk.

How is the town? Have you ever crossed that big bridge? Were you ever up at that Death Mountain? Can you catch bigger fish in that giant lake? Have you met the knights, soldiers and their princess?

All of these things were also asked by Link.

He bashfully admitted to being a regular country pumpkin as you sat beside each other by the river, fishing. He managed to please the kids with a promise to play as they finally left you alone. Rubbing the back of his neck, he couldn't hide the excitement on his face nor the stammer in his voice as you told him of your stories.

"The most exciting thing I'll ever do in my life is probably deliver that milk. Can't lie, I am lookin' forward to it..." He chuckled sheepishly. Shaking your head, you offered a smile.

"You should go out of the village more often. You're old enough now, I'm sure you'll grow to like everything you'll see and meet."

You smiled at him. It cheered him up, admittedly. You looking at him like that felt special too, perhaps because you weren't from here and encouraged him to go, even if it meant leaving the village and his goat-herding duties behind for a while.

»»————-　　————-««»»————-　　————-«

If only he never left.

Though for whatever reason that thing called it a lucky coincidence, a deal.

He ran back towards the forest, rushing by the familiar lake where the children went missing. It happened too fast and even though they adored him, looked up to him, he could barely realize what was happening before the world went dark and darker and darker.

His heart pounded against his ribcage, the shadow tailing after him in high speed which only made his panic grow more. How could this have happened? Where is everyone and are they still well?

His pants turned and echoed in a yelp - then a growl. He couldn't control it, it sank into his brain as he saw the glimmer of a blade shooting up this close to his face.

Gritting his teeth, his blue eyes shot up big. Frozen in place he looked up as the weapon was slowly withdrawn.

"...You don't have to be scared."

Link did not notice he was shaking.

Quickly he realized it was you, the 'traveler lady', as you kneeled down and took a good look at him. The young man was confused on how you kept calm as your hands gingerly grazed his fur. Your hands went down to his chained paw and a frown graced your face. "You poor thing. No wonder you are so terrified."

Link was hesitant but could not deny your guess.

Eagerly you tried to remove the chain, even if it did not affect him. Adamently working on it you suceeded even if it costed you time and tools...your gentle hands soothed the irritated skin with your own oilments that you carried.

"It's best if you don't go into the village. The children went missing...and the parents are distraught. You better go home to your own family, little one."

You gave one last pet and smiled as you returned to Ordon Village.

»»————-　　————-««»»————-　　————-«

You thought this would be last time you saw the curious wolf. Yet here he is, having trouble as he carried a wooden shield and hauling it through the dark. As the villagers investigated the strange sounds coming from him, you were quick to distract them. Swiftly hiding him behind a house, you ducked him down.

You ask him what he is doing here, take away the shield - which he fights against almost pleadingly - and shush him from the worried parents.

"Everyone's drowning in worry." You pet him up and down, whispering, "...I really hoped I could stay here for a while, get away from all this chaos outside. But even such a sweet village like this one gets attacked...kidnapping kids...and the Link fella is gone, too..." You trail off but try to smile as the wolf whimpers. Inhaling deeply and forcing a grin you drown him in pats and cuddles. "But don't worry...! I promised them to get the children back! I don't know where they are or where to start...but I'll get them back. I swear, Wolfie!" You laughed as you petted him more, which only made the animal grin. He had long sat down and listenend to your words.

Link was unsure if you were even real when he first saw you that night. The twilight blinded him as that Midna thing mockingly told him of the possible fate of his friends. The people, the spirits - they all whimpered as his sight, smell, touch and hearing changed. All that he knew was different and he might never turn back into the real Link.

You, this new and mysterious woman, were the only thing that seemed real to him. The blade you shoved into his snout, the paw you healed and your hands that combed through his fur - all of this were the only things that felt warm and familiar in this twilight. He hoped you'd be fine. If only he could turn back to his real self and help you. He'd feel better if he had you as a companion and not that shadow imp.

»»————-　　————-««»»————-　　————-«

Lake Hylia is grand, Death Mountain steep, and the castle town empty. It's strange to think that he is right here, seeing all the things you saw and encouraged him to. Though the circumstances turned out to be much more meaningful than a simple country pumpkin such as him could have ever imagined.

Midna was right, Hyrule is so close to its doom. All he wanted was to get back to the children and maybe meet you again as you were looking for them too. Though still as a wolf you left for your quest. And now here he is at Kakariko Village. Here to save the kids but to also have to climb Death Mountain first. It's what he as a 'chosen hero' has to do.

Still, he ignored Midna's request as his blue eyes wandered the dry and sandy place. Link found the children quickly and as they pointed to the an opening door, his face lit up. A familiar woman stepped out and he could see you squint your eyes in confusion while he ran up to you. Holding firmly on your arms you were first startled before the young man explained himself.

"Link? Oh, Link! I didn't recognize you, you're so green now!" You pointed out and he couldn't help but laugh. He told you of what happened and what he had to do.

"Are you sure you must? You went missing too, I mean you must be as confused as the kids. You don't have to force yourself if you were hurt as well." There was your concern again, the same one on that night. Even as he assured you, you offered to help but both of you decided that you stay with the children...even if he would have loved to have your company and spend some time together. He was sure you would be of great help and support.

"Well, Death Mountain is hot and dangerous but if you made it so far, you'll be fine. Might as well finally get to see it." You chuckled sheepishly, trying to lift the mood.

»»————-　　————-««»»————-　　————-«

He thought he'd be free from his curse already, the spirit said so. Promised him so but here he is back on all four paws with Midna dying on his back. His pants grew rapid, panicking as the shadow imp almost fell off when he acted to quickly and too carelessly.

What to do? Where to go? Midna is dying...and he is just some animal again! Stuck in this lake, in this desert! The night grows darker and the people more hollow. With a pounding heart he tried to sneak out of the Kakariko's cave first -

"Wolfie...?"

If it weren't for you again.

You knelt down to him as he anxiously turned his snout to his back. Carefully you took Midna, for who you mistook for some kind of baby. As you nervously tried to make sense of the situation, the wolf jumped at you, his eyes wide and bright with his paws on your shoulders as he barked and barked and barked. Please, please, please, do something as you did in Ordon. You have to, you must.

Link is useless like this.

"...Hey," Gingerly you cupped his cheek and wondered how a wolf could be getting misty-eyed. You wiped the fresh tears away. "Wolfie, Wolfie..." Whispering you lean his head against yours and onto your shoulder. You shush him as Midna lays on your lap, caressing his back as he ceased to shake. "You poor thing." Again, you said that again. Adjusting the creature on your lap, you wrapped your arms around the animal and nuzzled his fur. Your lips met his cheek and lingered there as you whispered; "You'll be fine. Everything's gonna be fine again, I promise you."

Link felt like crying again. You were the only one.

»»————-　　————-««»»————-　　————-«

Again, you were the only thing that seemed real as his existance as a wild animal.

Midna was the only one to talk to and her personality and motivation left a lot to be desired. She proved her heart was noble but that wouldn't deter her from her jabs. Link could only show his unrest through growls and yips, which she only brushed off with a roll of her eye and taps to his back to hurry up instead.

Even as he ran through the swamps and forest, the dead castle town and plateus, he could often sniff you from afar. Often you found yourself meeting up with the mysterious wolf and it was delightful after he got better. It was even more delightful for Link.

Whatever happened to the 'baby' was left as an enigma to you.

With a groan Midna would retreat into his shadow, mumbling how much time they are wasting again on his little, favorite human, as the wolf appraoched you with a wagging tail. Small recaps of your own adventures and a round of pats were always included.

You could be focused on a task at hand, fight off against monsters or ride through the meadow but the moment you noticed him you'd turn around and your lovely face would lit up. 'Wolfie!' You'd yell out and Link has grown to love no word more than this one. It felt a bit demeaning at the beginning but that just meant you always liked him from the start, right?

Liked him even while he is stuck in this hideous form. He didn't know how long he'd be stuck in there and if he will ever get his human form back, no matter how much Midna promised him, but at least, at least you were here. This wonderful woman with a smile that could rival the sun.

"You be careul on your way now, okay, Wolfie?" You chuckle as he barked in response, turned in a circle and jumped up on you again. His snout searched for your lips.

»»————-　　————-««»»————-　　————-«

You inhaled deeply. This must be...the third time now, if you aren't mistaken.

Castle town seemed dimmer and more hollow the last time you were here and while it was a firm reminder of how much you wanted to leave in the first place, something more sinister has entered this place recently and you can't shake it off. The town square is brimming with a hopeless crowd but you reckon you always hear a cheerful voice calling out to you. Often you find yourself turning around and seeing the image of a hand waving as green ghosts around and between the merchants. The calls seem to drown between the mumbles and even the bar, the one place still full of superficial but pleasant talks felt suffocating. As if entering the wide space was walking into a pair of arms squeezing you from both sides.

The woman behind the counter often raised her brow when you entered until one day she finally spoke up. Apparently somebody's been looking for their good friend, a beautiful gal and you fit the regular's description perfectly. From head to toe. With a worried tone that you couldn't hide, you told the barkeeper that you travel alone.

»»————-　　————-««»»————-　　————-«

Castle town became too asphyxiating, your gut feeling telling you to escape in a hurry to Kakariko village, to familiar faces. You still owed the Ordon elders the promise of returning their children unharmed, after all.

And so you did, pushing Colin out of the way and losing sight of the world as a monstrous goblin took ahold of you with the last thing you heard being aggressive galloping and your name screamed out.

Eyes shot awake as you tumbled to the ground, rolling away from the Elden bridge, coughing. Your arms were too weak as you shakily tried to sit up - the rest of the world blurry and dipped in twilight as more screams echoed about. Squinting, you turned around to see something akin to a giant boar falling down right after Link pulled his sword out of its abdomen. With a squishing sound the blinding blade was torn out of it, creating a bigger hole in its flesh. The cry was cut short as it fell to the ground and a pool of blood quickly tainted the rest of its body.

You let out a gasp and at the slightest sound, Link's ear twitched and he swiftly turned around, his face immediately morphing from a glare to a grin. Swinging the blood off his weapon, he rushed over to you and putting his sword back. He unwittingly created a small trail of blood after him. His bloodied arms shot out for you, supporting you as he sat you up. The young man started talking and gushing while you stared up at him, helplessly leaning on him while still beside yourself.

"...Link...?" "You're safe now." He instantly countered with a smile that was meant to reassure you. You swore his eyes were cold as he gave the final blow but now they are the softest you've ever seen. "I saw what you did, you saved Colin. That was so...amazing of you but you gave me a heart attack." Finally, you were able to slowly go back to your senses. "What? You weren't there..."

"Didn't you hear me call you?" You blinked and again, asked him what he meant. 'At Castle town', he grinned and said he saw you. You didn't hear him though. And when he arrived at Kakariko also you did not hear him.

"W-What...?" You let out but were shushed as your head was put on his shoulder. Closing his eyes as he combed through your hair and pressed you further into his body. "You'll be fine. Everything's gonna be fine again, I promise you." He shushed you again as you attempted to speak up and just nuzzled you.

It felt good to repay a favor, be the one who saved you this time. It felt just as good, if not a bit different, to have you in his arms, with him being your hero.

Not the other way around. Though he does not mind that.

»»————-　　————-««»»————-　　————-«

Colin's face soured as you explained yourself.

How could he not? A child that you promised to bring home watching you leave for an 'extended period of time' leaving all of Eldin to go to Ranelle. Far, far away.

The little tent you built yourself in the corner of Lake Hylia should be safe and hidden enough. Close enough for fish and far away from monsters. Yet just as you were about to lay down, you heard unusual bickering and turned around, only to once again meet green.

Letting out a yelp, you dropped your weapon in shock only for Link to bring his finger to his lips and shush you. He pointed to himself again and again that he was indeed Link. "What are you doing here?" You manage to let out as you calmed down, "I have to be here." He answered quickly yet you doubted that. "Why are you here? You just left and," He licked his lips, "I was worried about you!" He took a step closer before you could reply.

"It's dangerous to be alone out here. Especially for you, yer..." He couldn't help the grin, "You...you're a beautiful gal and it's best if you aren't alone...say, since we both are here, why don't we stick together? You offered me your help once and I always would have loved to have you with me for a bit..."

"How did you find me?" You took a step back and eyed your weapon on the ground. Link only looked confused. "I...saw you here on the way to the lake. It's easy to spot you." He chuckled sheepishly but you only shook your head and crossed your arms. "...No, thank you. I came here to...relax a bit. The recent events were...frightening."

"I can imagine," Once again his blue eyes softened and he neared you again, putting a hand on your cheek. He missed the way you twitched. "None of this is your responsibilty...yet you choose to help anyway. You're kind...and sweet as honey. That's so amazing of you." Link almost seemed mesmerized as his eyes narrowed. "But you'll have me...I can look out for you, I can protect you-"

"I won't go." You take his hand off your cheek and distance yourself again, finally having the courage to glare at him - in turn, he only looked more confused. "But why? You love Wolfie but when it comes to me, you vanish. Are you shyer around a human than an animal?" He tried to laugh it off even as he saw your face morphing into shock. Quickly you ask him with a stammering voice how he knows that but he seems to ignore it. "I am no different...you saved me a dozens of times! And I," He hesitates but lets it all go as he takes ahold of your shoulders, "I...I think I fancy you and I have been waitin' for so long to at least spend time with you! The only other times we see each other is when you don't understand me, when I'm just some wild beast!"

"But even then you seem like the only one who understood me, the only real one between all these ghosts! So, as payback, at least let me protect you...let me help you. We could be doin' this together."

Link wastes no time to shove you into his chest, into an embrace. He nuzzles your head and his lips met your temple. "I'll defeat the darkness and then we can see the rest of the world together, okay?"

[nyimasu]

───── 𝐼𝑁𝐾 (𝑀𝐴𝑆𝑇𝐸𝑅)

tags! 🕸️ yoshida hirofumi x f!reader, 18+ content — devil fucking/monsterfucking (literally), oral (f receiving), lots of spit is involved, pet names (doll), slight praise kink, double penetration, dirty talk, teasing, impact play (spanking) ... this is pure filth but yolo — 2.8k

P.S : this work can be interpreted as a second part to this one, or a stand-alone fic, also all characters are aged up

🕷️ — ao3 link!

Sometimes your brain brings you to places you shouldn’t be, to meet people twice as horny as you are.

Except it’s not with a person that you’re dealing with tonight ‒ well, not just your man, at least –, but with something entirely different.

A being made of ink and whose desires you can no longer deny it.

“Come closer.”

Your eyelids flutter at the tone, but you do as instructed and crawl backwards on your knees, right where it wants you to be. Yet your sweaty back clashes with a human chest, not tentacles, before reaching the edge of the bed.

Slender fingers come to press into the flesh of your hips and you giggle. There’s no need to turn, for you know how needy the man behind you is, already.

You grind on your boyfriend’s hard-on in retaliation, sighing in unison with him when you feel his cock twitch and slap against your lower back.  

Small victories before I’m completely annihilated by the inhuman one, you think to yourself with an inner smile. What little decency you have left goes straight to the drain.

“Hey, stranger. I thought you were going to sit this one out.” the words fall off your lips calmly, almost teasing as you continue saying, “Can’t really let your Devil have all the fun tonight, am I right?”

Black locks frame part of your face as the man behind you tilts your head towards his. His lips stretch upward, and you feel the impish smile on your own when he kisses you. The scent of seawater in your nostrils, the wet touch of excitement dripping down your legs with just a touch of his ‒ theirs ‒ is enough for you to drown in.

Yoshida is one hell of a tease, and the Octopus Devil is no less aggravating. It is the latter that is playing with you now, and its partner had agreed not to participate in the little carousel of sins.

But then again: like master, like puppet.

Deceitful till the end.

“How can I be on the sidelines when you look like this? I can’t help myself, you know that.” Yoshida points out, his dominant hand now descending between your thighs. 

“So pretty”, his index and middle fingers’ pads flatten on your clit and you lurch forward. Out of instinct, you arch your back like a cat while you stretch your arms on the bed, nails ready to dig in the soft mattress as pleasure takes over because it will overshadow every shred of embarrassment you might still have. 

The sight in front of him, of your glistening cunt puffy with need, almost knocks Yoshida off his feet. “Fuck.”

Transfixed on the view in front of him, the Devil Hunter follows in your footsteps. He rolls down to his knees, joining you on the bed. 

Then he bends over you until his face is almost buried in your folds. 

“Yoshida.” you shoot him a warning look from above your shoulder, but he dodges it with a simple puff of air. He exhales on your pussy and the truth of it all settles in you.

He’s a mad man tonight. Long gone is the time for you to persuade him.

A Devil and its Hunter are joining forces to take you apart.

As the diligent man he is, Yoshida pulls away to gently tug at your knees and you spread your legs almost immediately. 

That earns you a kiss on the back and one in the crook of your inner thighs, right where you feel your boyfriend’s hair tickle your skin as he tastes your juices on his tongue.

At first, you don’t realize who he’s talking to. 

“If there’s a God up there, they must know how much I love to eat you out from the back. Today is my lucky day.

Are you okay with that, my friend?”

But when you feel the grim voice of the Octopus Devil in your head, everything clicks.

“Yes. Prepare her for me.”

“My pleasure.” that’s all Yoshida says before he buries his face in your pussy. You don’t even have time to react that his tongue sneaks out of his mouth and it’s already inching up. It takes the man only a matter of seconds to spread your ass cheeks apart with his hands to run his wet muscle up your fold to lick, savor you. 

The sole knowledge of him devouring you like a famished man makes you dizzy, and the goosebumps awakening all over your spine don’t escape Hirofumi’s gaze.

“Look at you. You’re gushing.” your boyfriend sings-songs on your exposed flesh, but gives you no time to reply to that, easing a finger into your pussy to silence you while his tongue goes in and out of your other hole. Only a soft gasp escapes you, but it turns into a loud whisper as you feel Yoshida draw back to push his thumb in your ass hole, stretching open the tight ring of muscles to keep himself busy. 

If he indulges his thoughts, his sensations, he’d be coming all over your back already.

He’s that much of a sucker for you. But tonight, he won’t give in to his needs. He won’t stray from the ultimate goal.

That being said, it doesn’t mean he will cut you some slack.

He’s grinning like a maniac when he adds, “Guess I won’t need to use a lot of spit tonight. You’re enjoying yourself a bit too much. 

Am I right, doll?”

You melt in a puddle of goo and let out a breathy ‘y-yes”. Like a block of clay, you are ready for the man behind you and his devilish friend to be shaped and molded on their whims and fancies.

“Is she ready?”

Yoshida chuckles, and his warm breath has you moaning on the fitted sheets of the mattress. 

He’s already withdrawing and instinct takes over. 

“Don’t be impatient, Octopus. You'll have a piece of her soon enough. Or two, if she doesn’t want me to touch her any longer. 

I’ll stop right away.”

A hand of yours flies to his nape, fingers digging into his skin and breath itching in your chest. Strings of desperate pleas drip down your parted lips, tears of frustration start to build up in your eyes, as well. 

It works like a charm. All he wanted was an explicit consent, and you gave them both one laced with craving. And that’s more than enough.

You shake your head gingerly, voice cracking. You yield, cry in want, “No, no! Please, don’t stop. I want you, Hiro. 

I want you both inside me.”

You nod, followed by a brazen smile, pushes Yoshida to continue his ministration. He’s all over you again, eating you out in earnest as you keen and squirm. Under the relentless pace he sets, with Yoshida’s tongue and fingers on and in you, you don’t notice a tentacle has snaked its way towards you until you feel it rest on your hip. 

“Fine, then. 

You’ll take us both like the good girl you are, uhm?” 

“She’s ready.” 

It's not a question this time, but a fact. You sigh in anticipation, and the hand still hooked behind your boyfriend’s head falls at your side, and your upper torso collapses on the mattress.

But Hirofumi doesn’t stop, and he even grabs you by your hair to turn your head, to see for yourself as he stands up behind you. His other hand stays in place and his nails scratch your scalp deliciously when Yoshida licks his fingers clean to then unload a huge amount of spit on his palm.

The world blurs, and you feel your eyes roll in the back of your head as he adds fuel to the fire, smearing it all over your ass and pussy slowly, circling your clit a few times with a wet thumb.

You are at your limit already, and whose fault is that? Oh, right.

Yours, and yours only.

But you’re not complaining, not in the slightest. Especially if it brings you closer to fulfilling one of your wildest, wettest dreams ever dreamt by you. Or anyone else, because it really was a filthy, down-right mess of tentacles, spit, cum and moans.

And now it’s starting to look exactly like that.

Yoshida’s body is taut against yours as he claims, “Her pussy is mine.”

“Fine with me. I’ll have her ass, then.” 

A sudden shiver shakes you. You wouldn’t think such straightforwardness would turn you on, but it does. 

And for the first time in a while, you just give in to the moment and allow the Devil Hunter to kiss the small on your back, bite the tender skin close to your ass and push himself into you at once. Momentum and sharp thrusts are what you all need this time.

Your whimpers increase in volume as you feel yourself opening up for the Octopus as its tentacle works through your tightness, pushing through the spit as it takes its place in you. 

Pure muscle, slippery with the mess flowing between your legs. That’s what is bruising your insides, stroking each and every one without struggle. 

It’s huge, but no suckers in sight. Small mercies, these are the thoughts running amok in your mind while your legs tremble and your heart leaps out of your chest.

It’s really happening.

You lean into Yoshida, vision fogged by pleasure. Then he bottoms out, as he’s already done a thousand times before, but what really sets you on fire is the moment it does, too.

“Breathe through your nose. You need to relax.”

“I feel s-so full”, you’re nothing but a babbling mess right now, “give me a minute.”

The man hugs you from behind. “We’re not going anywhere. Take all the time you need, love.”

It hits you where it hurts, and your voice matches the storm inside you as you hiss, “You don’t even have a nose. Don’t tell me what to do.”

Nothing happens for a few minutes, and you do calm yourself a bit. But then Yoshida picks up a neck-breaking space, and a sudden sting on your lower half shakes you.

Turning, you see your boyfriend’s hand collide with your ass cheek again, pistoning in you at the same time while his other hand wraps around your throat.

As if it’s not enough, the Devil joins him and another tentacle literally spanks you as you yelp, knees pressing harder against the bed. 

“Do not disrespect me again, girl. My patience is running thin, and you don’t want me to stop now, don’t you? Answer me.”

Your body responds before your mouth does. Shaking at the thought, you whimper out a soft “sorry, I won’t do it again”, and the Octopus emits a sort of strained sund, almost as if it’s laughing at your eagerness.

My God. You’re a mess. 

Cramped between Yoshida and the Octopus Devil, you feel fucking needed. You’re the object of all their desires, and for you to give in to their joint touch so easily is a bliss.

Without warning, Hirofumi hides his face in the crook of your neck, nuzzling at it with affection, devotion even, as the friction between your bodies escalates. 

Perspiration rolls down like waterfalls from you both, but it is what he whispers on your ear shell that makes you wetter, to clench around his cock and its tentacle like crazy. Yoshida almost stops in his tracks, overwhelmed, but he grunts on your skin and declares, “Be ready to be covered in my cum, doll. Oh, you feel so good around us.

Am I right, Octopus?”

The Devil simply sighs in your minds, too busy diving in and out of your ass at a maddening pace. Hungry for a shattering orgasm, you buck into their thrusts and they both stop for a split second, surprised by how desperate you are seeming to become by the second.

“You want to come?” Yoshida asks, eyes skittering all over your form and you nod, gripping the sheets as the coil in your stomach grows tighter. 

It pinches you just right as the dark-haired Devil Hunter gives a final, sharp thrust in your cunt and his Devil stills in you, letting your body adjust to it when the orgasm you so longed for washes over your limbs. You really collapse on the mattress with both of them still inside you, while white-hot jabs of pure euphoria embed in your every cell. 

Still you rock your hips back and forth, relishing in the way Yoshida’s shaft grazes your walls and the tentacle in your ass clogs you with its girth. 

His vision tunnels into it and after that, Yoshida Hirofumi is a thinking man no more.

“Hiro, please. Come.

Don’t make me wait.” your plea, laced with the sight of you prying open your lower lips with both hands, hit him like a trainwreck. 

“Fuck, fuck. Fuck.” his growls are wolfish, and a demon seems to possess him because while you’re still riding your own release, he goes searching for his own, driving himself impossibly further into you. You just moan, too far gone to do anything else, but cover his hands on your waist with yours when he finally comes, shooting his semen deep and hard in you. But that doesn’t stop him, and he pumps his cum back into you until your legs cramp and you twitch in overstimulation.

“Did you forget about me?”

The first thing you see after Yoshida pulls out of you is his face. He sidles up to you and pulls you in for a soothing kiss you accept amidst smiles. The man has stars in his eyes,  pussy-drunk, as he stares at you.

“Was I too rough?”

You tilt your head. “Of course not. I like it rough, dumbass.”

Aware of the tone, you arch your back against the tentacle and chuckle. “I could never. Come on, do your worst, Octopus. I won’t stop you.”

Lewd, sinful sounds erupt from you as Yoshida turns your head around again to let you see what’s happening. His thick seed still descends down your inner thighs, but you feel another bead of wetness mix with it when another tentacle, a third one, laps up the mess to then rub it on your ass. 

“Relax. You’re too pretty to be so tense around me. Can you do it?”

The Devil doesn’t have to ask you twice. Moaning, you cut off your body’s protest and mewl when the tentacle clasps inside you. Dull is the ache between your legs but you couldn’t care less.

Already feeling another orgasm approaching, it doesn’t take long for Yoshida to give the Devil a go, and the entity thrusts into you all at once. 

And its other tentacles come out to play, as well.

You try to break out into loud whimpers, but the view is so breathtaking that you close your mouth as Yoshida gazes at your expressions, starstruck.

You’re a beauty.

The thick tentacle in your pussy, with the other still in your other hole, is more than enough to rip you apart. The squelching noises are intoxicating.

But then, the Devil lives up to its name, and the third one presses against your clit.

“Let’s kick this up a notch.”   

A sucker appears out of nowhere, and it starts sucking and stimulating your engorged bud. That’s too much for you to handle and you come with a choked scream, limbs shaking and chest flat against the bed as your face is smashed against Hirofumi’s chest. 

“Good.” 

Low hums accompany you through the high, and you’re able to see straight again, you’re welcomed by your boyfriend’s wicked smile. The tentacles are gone, and so is the Octopus Devil’s presence from your mind.

To say you’re spent would be an understatement.

You lay on your stomach, exhausted, and watch as Hirofumi The earrings on his ears beam under the dim light of the table lamp next to him when he leans into you, leaving a small kiss on the corner of your lips.

“Fear not, girl. I’m satisfied for now. But when the urge will be back, I hope you’ll be ready for me. In the meantime, enjoy your bath with my Devil Hunter.”

“My beautiful doll. You really are something unique. Come, let’s go for a bath.”

“Not with Octopus. I need some days to recover.”

And with that, it withdraws for good. A dash of excitement covers you like a thin veil. There will be another time, for sure. And maybe many more.

Your chuckles are ecstatic when you turn to Yoshida. “My Devil Huntr? It seems our mutual friend can be sentimental.”

He grunts, taking you in his arms as he walks towards the bathroom. Only when you’re both in the bathtub with hot water running on your skin and bubbles covering you he confesses, desperate,

“Don’t get me started.”

© azanthys — do not copy, translate, repost and modify my works.

[sunbeamstress]

i've noticed an increasing trend in game names that are like

TITLE OF GAME: ENTIRE OTHER SEPARATE TITLE OF GAME

and it's kinda fascinating to see! i'm a little obsessed with naming trends, names themselves, and their natures, being a subject of endless personal fascination; for most of my entire life, works of media in the US were typically given just a single TITLE. if you make a sequel, that's TITLE 2. if you make a spinoff? sometimes it's a different TITLE, but sometimes it's TITLE: SUBTITLE.

except now we have tons of games in the public space that are called TITLE: SUBTITLE as singular works!

the evolution of the SUBTITLE component of these names is so interesting. usually it was something descriptive that hinted the work was derivative (The Elder Scrolls: Daggerfall; Banjo & Kazooie: Nuts & Bolts; Cyberpunk 2077: Phantom Liberty; etc.), but the SUBTITLE's role is changing.

here's a fun trend: games with simplistic (possibly difficult to trademark) names, with a tacked-on subtitle whose job it is to better illustrate the primary title

is "smalland" the actual name of the game, or do we say "smalland: survive the wilds" every time in accordance with the 2005 Pimp Named Slickback ruling? do you say "divinity original sin" as a singular noun or are you meant to inject a little micro-pause where the colon should be?

better yet though, what if the SUBTITLE didn't have to clarify the TITLE? what if it could just be a whole-ass other name for the game?

i totally get why you can't just name your game "metal," that isn't what makes this game name so deliciously weird. the name's components are clearly related, but they seem to point to different spheres of information.

what is this game actually called? do you just call it "metal hellsinger"?

is "metal" meant to hint at the musical lexicon and the game is just "hellsinger"?

is the main character the hellsinger and is she herself implied to hellsing?

does "metal:" imply that this is a singular title in the Metal series?

what if they make a sequel with an EDM or a rap soundtrack? do we get "Drill: Barspitter"? actually i'd play the shit out of that.

btw you should try this game, it fucking rips and it's on sale for like USD$12 right now

by this point i think i got across what i was going for, so now we're just taking a tour. this one's fun because both of these are pretty good names for games, but they couldn't seem to settle on one so they just took both. i respect it!

bleak faith is a game of putting on airs; it wears the trappings of a soulsborne but like most derivative soulsbornes, it assigns its own rules to combat, character building, etc.

it also wears the trappings of my favorite TITLE: SECOND TITLE naming convention, but decides to toss the rules out the fucking window. there is no other Bleak Faith game, so this isn't simply the "Forsaken" offering of that series. and "Forsaken" kinda illustrates "Bleak Faith" like, a little? it pays lip service to it? they both give vaguely Judeo-Christian vibes but honestly the Forsaken bit isn't pulling a lot of weight here.

if Read Only Memories glommed on to two perfectly serviceable titles, this is a great example of a game that really only needed one. "Bleak Faith" sounds pretty cool; "Bleak Faith: Forsaken" sounds like i'm about to enjoy 2-3 hours of a 20-hour indie title

and yet Faith: The Unholy Trinity says "ah but what if the game's primary title was so meaningless you literally couldn't even hold it in your head?" i don't know about you but i am looking at this screenshot i took from Steam myself, i'm reading the name, and my brain is still telling me that this game is called "The Unholy Trinity."

now we're talking! these ones are fun because the subtitle isn't a subtitle at all, it's describing what the game is like - and yet you gotta have it there. it's a style thing.

remember when you'd fire up Metal Gear Solid and it'd SLAM the title on the screen and then there was that stylish "TACTICAL ESPIONAGE ACTION" thing at the bottom alongside some minimal katakana? fucking peak aesthetics

this is a game name that feels like there should be a colon there. it absolutely should be called "Bomb Rush: Cyberfunk". artistic integrity, and a less-than-subtle nod to the precursor (Jet Set Radio) have rescued this title from the Tyranny of the Colon.

unfortunately the latte i made this morning has not rescued me from the Tyranny of the Colon, so if you'll excuse me this is probably a good place to stop

[who-knew-a-sheep-can-write]

Sweating Bullets: Werewolf!Carlos Oliveira x Fem!Reader (NSFW)

You're evil >:))))

I fucking love it

I also got a little carried away :)

Contains: Werewolf transformation, blood, dubious consent, breast licking, werewolf sex, creampie

He couldn’t help but stare at your ass as you bent over, eyes glued on the monitor in front of you as your fingers diligently scattered across the keyboard. He tried so desperately to control himself, he really did, but fuck- he really wanted to fuck you senseless right now.

It was wrong.

He knew it was so fucking wrong to even think about doing it during a time like this where you both could easily die. From the zombies shambling around in the hospital or the detonation that was about to go off in a few short hours, he couldn’t really keep his focus.

He felt both blistering hot and freezing cold at the same time. His entire outfit felt so fucking heavy on him like he was wearing a suit of lead, his bulletproof vest was the worst piece. It felt like it was squeezing at his chest, crushing his ribs, restricting his breathing.

The building heat inside of him was making him very uncomfortable. He almost just wanted to say fuck it and just take you right here, and whatever happens happens, but he couldn’t.

He almost felt nauseous, a sickening pull at his throat had his larynx bobbing as he swallowed. His stomach churned uncomfortably, the contents running empty as he suddenly found himself starving. The only thing that would cure his cravings was you. He could almost picture it; Bending you over the desk, slapping the keyboard and monitor out of the way as he fucked your from behind. He yearned to hear your voice crying out his name, begging him to fuck you harder and faster, pleading for him to cum inside of you.

It wasn’t like he hadn’t heard you say lustful things to him. You both were on the cusp of a relationship, not yet official but not really beating around the bush either. The things you would text him, especially when either of you were away on whatever bullshit mission, were sinful little things only for you to act innocent when he would confront you about later. You both never really got a chance to do much else other than a few lingering touches, always kept busy thanks to the piling work Umbrella slapped on the desk.

He almost didn’t want a relationship with you. Not because of anything to deal with work and especially not you, but because of what he kept hidden away. Almost, was the keyword. He found himself cracking under the pressure, found it hard to resist the voices in his head cooing in his ears to fuck you senseless and make you his own. Even now, he swears he could hear it baying at the top of its lungs, screaming to fuck you until you couldn’t walk and your cunt was leaking his thick and hot seed, his name being the only thing to come from your quivering mouth with a nasty bite on your shoulder for him to croon over later.

He could feel it stirring inside of him. He could feel it moving around under his skin like a parasite he always welcomed with open arms in times as intense as these. He bit his lip, his grip on his assault rifle tightened to the point he swore if he gripped it any tighter the thing would shatter. He felt it clawing at the back of his mind, his skull throbbing as he denied the beast inside of him control.

He couldn’t.

Not here.

Not yet.

He didn’t hear what you saying over your shoulder, the feeling only grew worse, only grew hotter the longer it bubbled in his gut before he suddenly felt like he had been thrown into a blizzard. Why the fuck did this have to happen now of all the fucking times? He had been doing so well so far with ignoring it, snuffing the feelings that came in strong waves for your safety. He wouldn’t know what he would do with himself if he lost control and went after you; With murderous intent or sexual, he couldn’t decide what was more worse.

It suddenly hit him like a sniper round to the spine. His nerves froze, his limbs went stiff, his heart pounded in his ear. His body felt the calm before the storm.

He was fucked.

Carlos was strangely quiet behind you. Normally, he would throw out sarcastic quips or talk about something completely random to ease the stress of the situation off of your shoulders, but he was as quiet as a field mouse. You could hear the zombies crawling around inside beyond the barricaded door, the shambling corpses groaning and gurgling sent an odd shiver up your spine only to be warmed up under Carlos’ intense gaze hitting you square in the back.

You caught an off glance at him on the monitor screen when you shuffled your feet to ease the pressure off of your back. He looked clammy and pale instead of his usual sunkissed tan, and he was breathing pretty hard. You briefly worried your bottom lip at the thought of him getting infected only to snuff that thought out. You two have been at each others side this whole fucking mission, there was no way he was infected.

“You okay? You look like you’re about to throw up,” you asked over your shoulder as you clicked through the files on the computer. You didn’t get a response, only his heavy breathing picking up. It was more than odd at this point, something was obviously wrong. You made to stand up and turn to him when you finally found what you had been looking for. “Carlos, are you okay?” you reiterated, eyes locked on the monitor.

You were so engrossed scanning the the lines of minuscule text packed so close together on a screen that was about to probably lose power any second now when a noise suddenly shocked your senses back into reality. It sounded like someone was being violently choked right behind you were Carlos stood, but somehow even worse. It was rasping and wet, like someone had suddenly latched onto his throat and was squeezing down on his larynx. You managed to pull your eyes from the monitor fully this time, spinning on your heel only to gasp at Carlos now groveling on the floor.

His hands were spread flat on the dirty tiles, his fingertips were pale as he clawed at the floor for support. He was on his hands and knees, his whole body was wracked with shivers like he had just been yanked out of a frozen lake. He was breathing like he had been shot right in the lungs, his gasps sounded worse than the zombies lingering around before he suddenly cried out in pain.

“Carlos?” you found yourself whimpering.

Your hands latched onto the desk behind you, firmly pressing your lower back against the metal. Your own gun felt so fucking heavy being strapped to you. Was he really infected? Was he turning? You didn’t know if you had the heart to put him down like this was Old Yeller, you wouldn’t be able to forgive yourself, especially if there really was a cure.

“(Y-Y/n),” he rasped.

You winced at the sound of his voice. He sounded like he had been left in Death Valley for days without water. His dark curls obscure his face, some locks sticking to his face now balmy with sweat. His back arched, you could hear his spine popping through his bulletproof vest. He suddenly bellowed out another cry of pain before he suddenly started hacking, a little bit of blood splattering against the floor.

“Carlos-?” You quickly spotted something wrong with his hands. His nails had started to lengthen, rounding off with points that could easily tear apart flesh, they were dark in color and gleamed eerily in the low lighting of the room. Out of the short while you’ve been here, you’ve never seen a zombie with claws like a fucking monster before. You hesitantly took a step forward despite your instincts begging for you to run. “Carlos, what-”

You shouted when one of his hands snatched at your thigh, his trembling hands squeezed down on the meat of your leg like a vice forcing a whimper out of you. His claws sank through the thick material of your pants and bit at the skin beneath. You saw how tight his clothing had gotten all of a sudden, to the point where you could hear the bulletproof vest creaking eerily with every breath he took, threatening to completely pop off of him. He was normally brawny but now? His muscles were rippling, gleaming with sweat as you saw the hair on his arm start to grow thick and hairy.

He wasn’t turning into a zombie.

“Please,” he begged. “Please help me.”

He suddenly cried out hunching in on himself as a series of cracks emitted from inside of him. You were absolutely horrified at the sight before you: The man you’d been pining for and flirting with for months was transforming into something horrific before your very eyes. His shirt tore beneath the vest, exposing the muscles on his back moving around as though something evil lurked just beneath his skin that was fighting to come out. His boots suddenly were no more, clawed feet scraped and scratched grooves into the tile as his legs started to bend at odd angles while his pants tore completely apart by the seams. His mouth hung open, bellowing out cries of agony that slowly got deeper and deeper until they almost didn’t sound human anymore.

“Carlos, what do you need?” you worried.

“I-” he winced horribly and gasped. “Just gonna get-” he snarled in pain briefly, “-handsy.”

He let go of your thigh, finally allowing you to back away quickly before he snatched at his shirt and vest that were woefully stretched out across his growing muscles. Clawed hands snatched at the vest and tore it like it was a sheet of wet paper, his shirt also suffered from the same fate, joining the destroyed vest in a scrap heap on the floor. You really got to see how his body had changed, muscles cut deep and sharp like a marble statue only become covered in thick, dark hair as it scattered down his body. His abs flexed with every breath, his ribs cracked and shifted to give his lungs more room to breathe.

His head snapped to the side, the changes in his face had your heart pounding in your ears like war drums. His face had lost all color, sickly, sweaty. His brow bone set heavy, brows a complete mess. His eyes were rimmed with dark skin, bags sunken in. His eyes were bloodshot, eyes glazed over with bloodlust, once honey brown you swore looked like real amber now glew an acidic yellow, cutting through the dim lighting like glowsticks. His irises had grown to fill the whites of his eyes, pupils dilated to a slit in the sea of gold. His cheekbones had pushed out to sit high upon his face, cheeks hollowed, jaw now pushed out to form an underbite, ears coming to a point against his head and hiding in his hair. His facial hair had become unruly, growing thick and dark across his jaw and chin.

He snapped his jaws shut before scratching at his face with his clawed fingers before moving to stand.

With his mouth open, you saw his face seem to melt. His nose and upper lip seemed to meld into the upper half of a muzzle, both sides pushing out to complete the look. Blood dripped from his mouth with an agonized cry, one by one, fangs had replaced his human teeth.

He was a fucking werewolf.

Fear suddenly spiked right through you once again. Fight or flight kicked in and your legs chose flight. As he stood fully like a towering giant, you found yourself stumbling over your own two feet as you made for the door only to be tackled to the ground by Carlos. His beastly hands pinned your chest down to the tile floor, claws sinking in deep forcing a cry from you. He roughly turned you over so you were lying on your throbbing back and your face was mere inches away from his muzzle of sharp fangs. His haunting yellow eyes pinned you in place as they wreaked havoc on your soul.

His clawed hands suddenly snatched at your vest and shirt and suddenly rip them both down the middle. He tossed away the torn materials somewhere behind him, now forgotten. You tried to shield yourself from his eyes, your cheeks flushed with embarrassment only for him to bat your hands away with one of his beastly ones. You sobbed as one of his meaty hands came down and planted itself on the left side of your face, pushing the opposite side into the tile floor. You winced as you felt him sniff and huff at your naked stomach, growling lightly. He was toying with you. Oh God, he was going to-

The sudden poking at your lower torso had your world shattering. You managed to glance down at the area only to see…

Oh God.

Your breath hitched in your throat, a whimper pushing past your trembling lips as you looked back up to his eyes.

He was really going to fuck you.

There was a brief second of what you had hoped was Carlos’ humanity when his eyes had softened only to fill quickly with lust and a desperate hunger only you could cure.

Was that even going to fit in you? Oh fuck, it was big.

His meaty hands came up and grabbed at the cups of your bra, claws snapping the band between the two cups and grasping at your now nude breasts. He pushed away the cups, leaning his head down. Opening his jaws, you groaned as his long, pointed tongue lapped at your nude breasts. You softly cried out, arching your back into Carlos’ sickly heat as his rough tongue rolled over the erect rose buds of your nipples. You knew it was wrong, but it felt so, so right. You were already getting riled up, feeling your core tighten and heat up. Your face was flushed, hot at the cheeks, you softly moaned and writhed under the werewolf, spurring a soft growl from him.

His dark mane clung to your sweaty skin, ears twisting and turning, flattening against his head as he lapped at your breasts. His hands grabbed at your hips, lifting your waist. You could feel it pushing harder against you. You shivered at how painful it would be, how stretched you would feel, how much pleasure would flood through your mind.

You didn't know how much time had been spent with him simply lapping at your breasts before he reared back. He looked you in the eye for a brief moment, it caught you off guard. There was this look in his eyes, the yellow dulling momentarily as though he was trying to apologize to you. His eyes suddenly glazed over, pupils shrinking, he tore off your pants with a ferocious snarl with both of his meaty paws. You cried, feeling the tips of his claws rake across the meat of your thighs, raising the skin angrily.

He had leaned down, you whining under your breath as his nose came closer and closer to your panties. You cried when you felt him prod through the fabric of your underwear at your dripping cunt. He wiggled his nose between your clothed folds, at a single huff you jumped under his grip, hiking your hips closer to his muzzle. He chuffed, almost like he was snickering at your writhing form beneath him.

You felt him nip at the waistband of your panties, slowly peeling them away before snatching them off your person as well, leaving you completely naked before him. Carlos narrowed his eyes at your naked flesh, noticing how dripping wet you were. You gazed up at the wolfman hovering over you, pleading softly to him for him despite fearing him just mere moments ago.

You suddenly found yourself pinned on your stomach once again while your ass had been lifted in the air by his greedy mitts. You felt his claws sinking into the soft flesh of your stomach and hips.

You felt it tap at your passage. You shivered, placing your head down against the cold tile, whispering a prayer to whoever was listening that you made it out of this alive and as uninjured as possible.

He dragged the head of his cock around, between the folds, smearing the head and coating it with your slick as much as possible before you suddenly caved in on yourself, hunching over and balling your hands against the floor, a lewd moan rolling out of your mouth.

Painful fullness overtook you, needing to screw your eyes shut and pant as Carlos sank further inside of you. You weren't the only one making noises, the werewolf situated behind you was crooning, tongue lolling out the side of his maw, grunting and growling at how tight you were around his huge cock. You sobbed, struggling to breathe as it penetrated right through you. You swore you thought he would tear you apart instantly. His claws sank into your hips, blood beading out and spilling into thin rivers down your ass. You gasped as you felt fuller and fuller by the second, your legs needing to spread to become more comfortable as the painful stretch continued until you felt something press against your asscheeks. Your fingers barely graced your lower stomach, you swore you could feel him penetrating through. You could barely look over your shoulder, eyes widening as you saw something swollen at the base of his cock pressed against the curve of your ass.

Oh fuck, what the fuck was that?

"C-Carlos," you moaned, looking up at the werewolf only for him to buck his hips, knocking your head down to the floor.

You cried out, the werewolf snorting at how tight you had become.

If you were already a trembling mess with just one short movement, how would you be when he started thrusting?

You lost your breath, gasping for air as he pulled his cock back, the stretch becoming almost too much for your person to handle it, pulling his thick and meaty cock out right to the head only to slam right back into you. You screamed, your pussy tightened on his cock, earning you a short howl from the beast. He sank his claws deeper into your flesh.

He had thrusted slowly at first, both of you struggling to breathe as the tightness. You swore you would climax just from how pleasurable the tightness was. It was only after you had pleaded softly did he quicken his pace.

You flushed at what was happening. The man you had been flirting with all these months is a big, hulking monster that turns into this every full moon, and here he was: Fucking you.

No.

Mating you.

He was doing this to get you pregnant, to fuck children into you, to breed you relentlessly until you gave him children, little werewolf pups.

And you were enjoying the fuck out of it.

Your eyes rolled in the back of your head, mouth wide open, moaning and crying and screaming, spurring him to only fuck you faster until you came with a scream. Your body sagged against him for a second as your body loosened. He snorted, baying loudly as you tightened around him so deliciously.

It had gotten to the point where you went limp, his hands had been holding you up with his claws that dug into the soft flesh of your hips and belly. He had been leaning against your back, his dark fur clinging to your sweaty skin. He had started to lap at your shoulders with his pointed tongue almost as if he was trying to find something.

You shivered, swallowing the lump in your sore throat.

What if he was trying to bite you? Turn you into a werewolf too?

You moaned softly as you saw him open his maw, sharp fangs hovering over your shoulder only for him to pull away and snarl as you suddenly came around his cock for the second time. Somewhere deep within your mind, you wouldn't have minded if he did bite and turn you.

"C-Carlos, please," you whispered pathetically, pressing the side of your face against the blissfully cold floor as your orgasm ran down your legs. He growled as a warning, he twitched inside of you. You cooed, your eyes flinched as you prepared yourself. You clawed at the floor, you curled your toes, your teeth sunk into your bottom lip.

A sudden explosion of warmth had you crying. Carlos arched himself back and unhinged his jaws, a loud, lingering howl echoed throughout the room as the something that had been brushing against your ass all night had somehow managed to pop inside of your aching, sensitive pussy. You screamed at the added pressure, the dammed thing acting as a plug to keep you full and heavy with his hot seed.

Carlos’ claws had finally released your hips, blood still slowly trickling down in small beaded rivers to the floor to mix with your own cum. His hands instead snatched at the floor on either side of you, scratching deep ravines into the tiles as he shuddered and came inside of you, yowling at your tight pussy around his knot. He sniffed and huffed at the back of your neck, lapping at the sweat cascading down your back as an attempt to probably cool you off.

You didn't know how much time had passed before the knot in your pussy had deflated enough for Carlos to slide fully out of you.

Hot cum flooded out from your throbbing, abused pussy. You were numb by this point, but still somehow conscious as you felt the werewolf grasp at your person multiple times, moving you or a single body part as he lapped at your body rather strangely until you realized he was trying to make you comfortable… and rather fast…

He was groaning while doing it, whimpering lightly before you felt his meaty hands grasp at your bottom again.

Your eyes widened.

There was another tap at your passageway, the same thick head spreading apart your folds.

He wasn't done.

He was ready for a second round almost immediately.

"Carlos, please," you whimpered, pleading with the werewolf to halt his actions.

You shivered, feeling the filling stretch nearly tear you apart once more.

[ravensmadreads]

Positive Reinforcement

Rating: T? (for me being a Tease) 18+ !

Pairing: Jack "Whiskey" Daniels x f!reader

Summary: oh god don't make me do this. This is a Tattoo Artist Jack Daniels AU that @fuckyeahdindjarin lovingly coaxed me to write and now here we are.

Warnings: cursing. bad writing? People being idiots? Yearn? Idk fam I'm new to this let me know

A/N: lots of love to @barbiewritesstuff for listening to me panic about this and for reading this and for letting me be a disaster about pedro despite not even being in the pedro fandom ! ily 💙 also this is my first fic AND first time writing fiction AND English isn't my first language AND I know nothing about tattoo artists or tattoos in general so I ask you to forgive the multitude of sins I'm about to commit.

Tagging: @fuckyeahdindjarin (you're the master and this is my humble offering) @barbiewritesstuff (i gotta be a menace) @chronic-ghost (all the italics for you bby) @sherala007 @oscar-wilde-thing @perennialdoll247

P.S the gif isn't related to the fic but damn guys its a gorgeous gif?!!

Oh.

Oh God.

This was a bad idea.

This was a no good, top of the line, terribly stupid idea; and that was saying something coming from someone who'd once pulled a double shift on nothing but 7 cups of espresso and half a chocolate bar.

So maybe your track record for making sensible decisions wasn't stellar, and somebody should've talked you out of getting a tattoo. But it was far too late for that now.

The needle was buzzing away happily; stabbing tiny pinpricks into your skin and your heart was trying to beat itself clean out of your chest. Although, the very handsome man, with the very wonderful biceps, and the inexplicably sexy Stetson, currently leaning over your arm might have something to do with that. Might have several somethings to do with that in fact since he's the entire reason you're in this predicament in the first place. 

****

Jack "Whiskey" Daniels.

Proud owner of the tattoo parlor right across from the quaint little diner you co-owned and worked at. He'd given you a grin and taken your breath clean away with a "thank you darlin', that's mighty sweet of you"  the day you'd welcomed him to the block with a box of cookies. Sufficient to say, you'd been a goner since then.

After four months of long distance pining, smiles exchanged across windows, (you'd dropped a fork the first time he'd grinned at you from across the street but that was nobody's business but your own), the very rare small talk, and borderline bullying from your bestie Ginger, you had summoned the courage to go ask him out. And promptly panicked at his front door.

Because how were you supposed to talk to one of the most perfect specimens of the male species you'd ever seen? When you knew next to nothing about him!?

Except for his coffee order from when he'd walked into the diner one fateful day.

It had been a slow day and you had been lamenting your lack of love life with Ginger when the front door bell had jingled to announce a new customer. 

You'd twirled on your spot in front of the cashier and had been well in the middle of your welcome spiel before glancing up. Jack, in his infamous leather jacket, had been giving you a warm smile and you'd made a strangled squeak, to Gingers great amusement, before closing your eyes and trying to disappear into the Earth.

When that had failed, you'd taken a deep breath, counted to 5, before opening your eyes and regaining the ability to speak. He'd watched the entire thing with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes but graciously hadn't called you out on it. His parting smile and "you have a great day, honey" had been soft and you had caught yourself grinning about that smile, and that stupidly adorable pet name, throughout the entire next week.

Still, one coffee order and gentle smile didn't mean you could walk up to him and ask him out! He could be in a relationship! He could be married! He could turn out to be a total prick hiding behind a charmingly soft Southern accent!

Although, in that case, this little crush would be over and you could tell Ginger to suck it. Your mental spiral into the abyss had been interrupted by the door opening and the man of the hour himself poking his head out; his brows knit in concern. 

"Everythin' okay, sugar?"

The sight of his brown eyes so close to you had thrown you for a loop. You'd gaped at him for half a minute before blurting out the first excuse that came to mind. You vaguely remember convincing him that you were here for a tattoo and rambling about always wanting one and him opening up shop right in front of you, seeming like a sign from the universe. (A sign that you were losing it? Maybe. A sign to get a tattoo. Probably not.)

He had taken your weird behavior as first time jitters and had led you in for a consult. He'd eased you into the shop, a hand on the small of your back, while recounting the story about how a drunk tattoo had earned him his infamous nickname. You'd been giggling too hard to notice that he'd already sat you down on a couch in the back and pulled out a sketchpad.

He had been all soft smiles and twinkling eyes and thoughtful ideas. While you had been a bundle of nervous energy; trying and failing to not stare at his pretty eyes, long fingers and sharp jaw. You're pretty sure he'd caught you checking gaping at his hands several times. But nothing in his demeanor had changed, apart from the appearance of a mischievous little sparkle in his eyes. Which had only made it harder to resist the urge to jump his bones right then.

You ended up agreeing to a small design (that you had totally fallen in love with), and he had given you an appointment for the very next day. Your protests had failed at his insistence and you'd just been able to nod around the lump in your throat when he squeezed your arm in reassurance.

"Trust me darlin', you're in safe hands. I know what I'm doin'.

A furtive glance at said hands and another nod from you had sealed the deal. (Best keep your mouth shut until you were sure that words were going to make it out instead of embarrassing whimpers.) He'd smiled at you as he walked you out with a particularly devious look in his eyes. Like he knew. Like he knew exactly why you were here and insisting on getting a tattoo. And you couldn't decide if that would be the best or worst thing to ever happen to you. 

****

It was too late to do anything but reminisce now. The tattoo is halfway done and you're not one to brag but you'd made it through without too much fuss. A particularly vicious stab has you hitching a deep breath as you try not to flinch and suddenly, Jack's locking those soft eyes with you. 

"You gotta stay still now, sweetheart okay?” he rumbles, his voice low and throaty. 

Oh God.

That voice.

He could tell you to jump in front of a train with that voice and you wouldn't even blink. Your gaze drops to his mouth as his tongue peaks out to dart across those plush lips. You're caught up in the images of that tongue flicking out and tangling with yours. Figuring he'd be sweet at first; gentle and soft, with just the tiniest bit of pressure. Before licking hard and playfully biting your lower lip as he pulls away. Grinning that mischievous half smirk that makes you want to grab fistfuls of his hair and yank-  

He clears his throat and you fall back to Earth. Gulping, your eyes meet his amused stare and you nod cheerfully in response, trying not to be completely transparent. Apparently you fail miserably, because Jack just sends a knowing smirk your way before carrying on.

"That's a good girl."

Oh.

Oh God.

This was such a bad idea.

You were going to explode right in this seat.

The hum of the needle starts again and you try to shift your focus. Your gaze draws, as always, to the man bent over you; his broad fingers encircling your arm and gently holding it in place. His eyes laser focused on the design. Your gaze moves to ogle his broad shoulders and the way the muscles ripple under the leather jacket covering him. He tilts his neck and you trace the skin trying to pinpoint the exact point you'd like to sink your teeth in. Okay enough! Suffice it to say, you definitely wouldn't mind being under him in a different context.

You nearly squirm at the thought of his broad body on top of yours, but catch yourself just in time. Wouldn't be out of character for you to mess up your first tattoo right near the finish line. That would be quite the story. 'O hey, nice tattoo, what's that squiggle at the bottom?' 'Oh. Yea I was just picturing getting cracked like a glow stick by my tattoo artist when he had a needle on my skin.'

You hold back a flinch and wriggle in the seat when Jack raises the needle from your skin to start a different line. Those caramel tinted eyes rise from the half etched pattern on your bicep and fix onto you as he looks over with a raised eyebrow. 

“Behave darlin’,” he coos. “We're nearly there. You’ve been doin’ so well for me. Let’s not get carried away now.” 

Oh. 

Oh fuck.

This was a really bad idea.

You gulp and grit your teeth and nod for him to continue. You're thinking of kittens taking baths, ice cream in the park, that absolutely terrible but totally worth it for the eye candy vampire movie you'd seen last weekend, and how bad your issues with yourself had to be for you to get something permanently etched into your skin than tell a handsome man that you might like him. Mentally shaking your head at yourself, you glance over to see how much of the tattoo was left. Which turned out to be a mistake. 

"Ack!" You cry out.

Fist clenching and arm twitching immediately, as you watch the needle touch a sensitive part of your skin, and you flinch badly. Jack lifts the needle and fixes you with a stern half glare. But there's a twinkle in his eye that has you giving him a sheepish grin. 

"Whoops?"

You pout at him, with a teasing tilt of your head. He chuckles and your eyes flicker to his lips for a beat too long. When you look up, Jack's smirk has turned roguish as he catches you shamelessly checking him out. Again. 

Oh no. 

"Maybe you just need some positive reinforcement sweetheart, hm?"

Before you can even process the statement, he has already shut the needle off.

"Such misbehavin', darlin'."

He tuts at you before leaning down and pressing his lips against the corner of your mouth. He smells like leather. And a soft cologne. Both of which assault your senses; hints of pine mixed with sandalwood and something inexplicably him wraps around you, and it is dangerously delicious. His tongue darts out to have the tiniest taste as his mustache tickles the corner of your lips. Before you can restore the brain power needed to tilt your head, and maybe pull him on top of you by the lapels of his jacket, tattoo be damned, he's already pulling away. 

"Fuck me."

The whimper that leaves you is entirely involuntary.

He grins at your flustered face as the needle starts again. His grip on your arm tightens and you squirm for entirely different reasons as he winks at you.

"Absolutely. But only if you're good and hold still now sugar."

Your jaw drops. There's nothing but static in your brain.

Wait.

Did he just- ?

Oh God.

"Be good for me now honey. 'M almost done. And then we can see about rewardin' good behavior." 

Fuck.

This was the best idea you'd ever had.

.

.

.

.

****

[weiwuxianismybae]

wei wuxian isn't sin-free either. that's the point. no one in mdzs is. the purity police mentality is why so many in the fandom turned their backs on wangxian. wei wuxian is not a perfect uwu little angel. he committed more atrocities than jin guangyao

???????????????????????????????

How to say you missed the point without saying you missed the point.

Anyway, sorry, I'll stop joking around. Let's take this bit by bit, shall we?

Not sure what you mean by "pure" and "sin". I don't know enough about Buddhism or Chinese culture in general, so I won't speek much on this matter. (Yet, I'm pretty sure the book wasn't written with Christianity in mind🙃). Anyway, making mistakes doesn't make you "bad". Making mistakes is what makes us human and it doesn't make you morally "grey" or "bad" and especially not when you regret them:

He was only stating a simple fact calmly, but the cultivator felt as if he was scorned, fuming, “What do you think we’re talking about here? How could there be bargaining for debts of blood?”

Wei WuXian, “It’s not that I want to bargain about such a thing, but that I don’t want my charges to be doubled just because of some words from another. I won’t shoulder what I didn’t do.”

ExR ch. 79

Note that he said that he won't shoulder what he didn't do, not that he won't shoulder anything at all.

Finally, Wei WuXian spoke up. He said, “Then what do you want me to do?”

Fang MengChen paused in surprise. Wei WuXian, “Then what do you want? Nothing but my miserable death to soothe your own hatred?” He pointed at Yi WeiChun, who lay passed out among the crowd, “He’s missing a leg, while I was cut into pieces; you lost your parents, while my family had long since been gone. I’m a dog who was chased out of its home. I’ve never even seen the ashes of my parents.”

Wei WuXian, “Or do you hate the Wen Sect’s remnants? The Wen Sect remnants that you speak of already died once, thirteen years ago. And right now, just then, for my sake, for your sake, they died once again. This time, they’ve all become ashes.” He continued, “Let me ask you—just what else do you want me to do?”

[...]

Wei WuXian, “Nobody told you to forgive me. The things I did, not only do you remember them, I remember them too. You won’t forget them, and they’ll stay even longer in my mind!”

ExR ch. 82

Wei Wuxian's goodness shouldn't be debated. All his actions were justified. He was never the initiator. Let me repeat myself: Who attacked whom first? Who massacred Wei Wuxian's home? Who send the Wen remnants, who lived peacefully on a small piece of land that was given to them by the winners, to the work camps where they were tortured?

As for the remnants of the Wen Sect, they were herded into a small corner of Qishan, not even a thousandth the territory it onced owned. They were crammed into the place and struggled to live.

ExR ch. 72

Who ambushed whom on Qiongqi path? Who went on offensive because he grew up with his cousin and didn't like Wei Wuxian anyway? Who promised to let the matter go if Wen Qing and Wen Ning turned themselves over? Who went back on that promise? Who gathered 3000 cultivators to kill 50 innocent people? Who killed those innocents?

"He committed more atrocities than Jin Guangyao"

...

...

I recommend you to read the extra Villainous Friends. It's a real eye-opener.

Just then, two disciples from the Jin Clan of Lanling dragged over a cultivator with disheveled hair.

"Weren't you going to refine a new set of fierce corpses?" Jin Guangyao said. "As it happens, I've brought materials for you."

[...]

A young girl and boy, both trussed with rope, kneeled on the ground and shouted miserably to He Su.

"Ge!"

He Su was stunned. His face blanched white as paper. "Jin Guangyao! What do you mean by this?! You can just kill me. Why implicate my entire clan?!"

[...]

Jin Guangyao shot him a glance, then turned back around and said in an even-tempered tone, "You can't say that. The He Clan of Tingshan used the full force of its power to start an uprising and plot to assassinate Sect Leader Jin. All of you were caught red-handed. How can you call this 'no reason'?"

A number of the captives cried out, "Ge! He's lying! We didn't. We really didn't!"

"What a crock of shit!" He Su spat. "Open your damn eyes and take a good look around! There's a nine-year-old child here, and elders who can't even walk! What uprising could they start?! And why would they assassinate your father out of the blue?!"

[...]

However, no one here would listen to his defense. Sitting before him were two vicious villains who already considered him a dead man and were enjoying the sight of his last-ditch struggle. Jin Guangyao leaned back with a smile and waved.

"Gag him. Go on, gag him."

Wei Wuxian never killed his father, brother, son, wife and then pretended that he had no choice. Wei Wuxian didn't slaughter a whole clan just because they were standing in his way and he saw them as annoyance. Wei Wuxian was never besties with other mass murderers (Xue Yang).

I wanted to argue that the only thing that made Jin Guangyao better than Jin Guangshan was that he had never forced himself on women... but then I remembered how Jin Guangshan died...

SiSi, “The middle-aged man wanted to shout and struggle, but his body was weak. The boy who led us inside opened the door again, grinning as he dragged him onto the bed again and tied him up with a rope, stepping on his head. He told us, carry on, don’t stop even when he’s dead. Have any of us been through such a situation before? We were scared half-dead, but we didn’t dare disobey. We had to continue. At the twelfth or eleventh round, that sister suddenly screamed, saying that he really was dead. I went over and checked. He’d indeed kicked the bucket, but the person behind the curtain said, didn’t you hear me? Don’t stop even when he’s dead!”

ExR ch. 85

Don't spoil Wei Wuxian's good name by comparing him to the likes of Jin Guangyao!

+ bonus:

"You little hooligan," Jin Guangyao said with a laugh. "Wreck stalls if that's what you want. You can burn down the entire street, for all I care, as long as you mind two things—don't wear the Sparks Amidst Snow uniform, and keep your face hidden. Don't let anyone find the culprit and put me on the spot."

Btw, the excerpts from Villainous Friends were taken from Seven Seas translation.