#like the Corinthian and like more ocs

[the-darklings]

Would you ever consider writing an Aemond Targaryen fic?

Obsessed with the fact I’ve received at least 10 messages asking this lmao. I’m glad you all think I would write him well. I do have plans for it, yes. But not any time soon.

Honestly I just wrapped up a big series, mental health is still a bit shaky, NaNo is ongoing, and I have work/Patreon writing to attend to so I’m taking it nice and easy and waiting for season 2. Take on another side project similarly to how I did tibyim when that rolls around. If anything gives me more time to mull things over 🥴

[miraluking-respectfully]

peak character design is when you decide something looks cool & then it winds up informing a crucial part of the character's identity

[amongxthexcrowd]

{ooc} me: I have lots of muses on here and no computer and no time. I need to go through things. also me: but like, I could also just add all these other muses on to here. <.<

[nightmarecountry-a]

@ all the dreams liking that hc post: pspspsps

[chaosbarelycontained]

See Me Go Through Changes

North Country Boy Chapter 4

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x AFAB!OC

TW: Swearing

Words: 2k

Synopsis: Price gives Jules access to much more than her usual tech and Ghost gets the third degree.

“You need a medic?” Price asked gruffly once the Lieutenant had left the gym.

“No sir, I’m good,” Jules responded, resisting the urge to rub her aching jaw, instead placing her beret back onto her head.

Price nodded once and set off at a brisk pace. Jules followed the Captain down stark corridors, each taking them deeper and deeper into the bowels of Stirling Lines barracks. They encountered a myriad of soldiers on their journey, most of them wearing the caps and badges of the SAS or the SRR, and all of them saluted Price as they passed.

They must have taken a circuitous route that Jules hadn’t used before but they ended up in a wing that was familiar to her and where she’d spent a lot of her time during her SRR training. Stopping before a closed, unmarked door, Price paused with his hand on the door knob. He turned to Jules with a devilish look in his eye.

“Now before we go in, just remember, I don’t want you to get all over-excited on me, Sergeant, understood?”

“Understood,” Jules replied, but her tone was raised, as if her response were a question.

Price pushed open the door and then stepped aside to reveal a bank of monitors and some of the most advanced computing and remote surveillance equipment Jules had ever seen. She stepped into the room with a soft gasp and ran her fingers delicately across the top of the monitors. Her skin prickled with goosebumps in the air-conditioned coolness and she turned back to Price with a genuine smile of joy.

“Fuckin’ ‘ell! Are you flirtin’ with me, Sir?” she teased, earning her a deep, rumbling chuckle.

“If I wanted to flirt with you, Tiger, you’d know about it. I take it you like the set-up?”

“Like it? It’s mint!” Jules exclaimed, practically vibrating with excitement.

“Good. I need you to make sure it's got everything you need. If anything’s missing then there needs to be a list on my desk by 0800 hrs tomorrow. Anything, Sergeant. If you need it, just ask.”

“Absolutely, Sir,” Jules said, but already sounded distracted as her attention was drawn back to the equipment before her.

“One more thing,” Price stated, pulling her focus back to him.

“Yes, Sir?”

“Lieutenant Riley,” Price began and Jules immediately stiffened. “I don’t know what’s gone on and I don’t need to, unless it compromises my team. Will it compromise my team, Sergeant?”

“N-no, Sir,” she replied, her face flushing with embarrassment at her very public loss of control.

“Good. See that it stays that way,” he ordered, but then his face softened. “Go on then, have at it,” he nodded towards the monitors and left Jules to it.

She slid into the comfortable wheeled chair, removed her beret, and lifted the headset onto her head. One swipe of the mouse and the screens before her lit up to show the familiar MOD log in screen. She tapped in her credentials but the homescreen she was expecting to see didn't appear. Instead of the SRR logo with the Corinthian helmet and sword there was a design she hadn’t seen before. The centre of the logo still featured a sword but instead of the helmet there was a skull and they were bordered by a pair of feathered wings and a laurel wreath. The only text visible was under the hilt of the sword and all it stated were the numerals 141.

Moving the cursor over the logo, Jules left-clicked on it and the screen dissolved to show a desktop layout that wouldn’t look out of place in any office in the country but a closer look at the icons showed programs that the majority of people wouldn’t even know existed. There were flight scanners, access portals to world-wide air traffic controls, drone programming systems, access to civilian emergency service and CCTV networks, both radio wave and microwave detector systems for communications interceptions, banking network portals, and pretty much anything else she would need. There, at her fingertips, were the tools she needed to monitor and even start incursions the world over. There was even the Spotify app, which made her huff out a chuckle.

Even with only the most cursory of glances over the system, Jules couldn’t see anything that was conspicuous by its absence. Her list for the Captain was, for the moment, unpopulated. Checking the time on the clock in the bottom left of the screen she noticed a small icon that she recognised but had never had the opportunity to use.

“You’re shittin’ me,” she breathed, before double-clicking on the tiny image.

The screen darkened for a moment before lighting up with a soft blue glow. An electronic chirp sounded from one of the desk drawers and Jules opened it to reveal a high end VR headset resting on a magnetic charging dock.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” she squealed, picking up the tech and cradling it in her hands.

Swallowing down the knot of excitement in her throat she removed the headset she was wearing and slowly replaced it with the VR gear. Sighing in satisfaction at the new accessibility she had gained she weaved her hands through the air in a graceful pattern, relishing the lack of need for hand controllers. A few gestures later and she was walking through the streets of Kyiv and then, in a flash, had been transported to favelas of Rio. Throwing her head back and letting out an excited laugh she allowed herself to get lost in the advanced technology that she loved.

* * * * * *

“Geek,” Rob said affectionately, scrubbing his hand over the top of her head. “Computer Science though, Jules? Why the fuck did you pick that?”

“Cause I like it, knobhead,” she replied, shoving his hand away and batting at his shoulder.

The pub in Preston wasn’t that busy for a Saturday afternoon and the train ride up from Manchester that morning had been uneventful. It had mainly consisted of Jules trying to study for a seminar whilst Simon did his best to antagonise her once he’d finished with the copy of FHM he’d picked up at Piccadilly Station.

“She’s good at it too,” Simon added, catching her eye over the rim of his pint glass. “Got some mint grades on your last assignments, didn’t y’Jules?”

“Yeah, suppose so,” she nodded, flushing a little at his praise.

Rob’s eyes flickered between the pair of them and narrowed in suspicion.

“Is there summat going on wi’ you two?' ' he asked.

“Nah!” Jules exclaimed hurriedly, spluttering around her cider and blackcurrant whilst Simon just let out a short laugh and shook his head.

“Just seem a bit pally, that’s all,” Rob hummed, draining his pint.

“Y’said to look out for her while y’were away,” Simon shrugged.

“I can look out for my own bloody self, Jesus,” Jules muttered. “Fuckin’ cavemen.”

After a chippy tea and a farewell to her brother, Jules and Simon made their way back to the station. He seemed lost in thought, not speaking much as they walked onto the platform to wait. Jules leaned back against the red brick wall and wrapped her arms around herself to stave off the chill of the evening.

A shadow fell across her, blocking the light from the station floodlights as Simon leaned over her, caging her in with a devilish smile.

“Didn’t realise the thought of bein’ wi’ me was so bad,” he rumbled, one hand propped against the wall above her head whilst the other came to rest at her waist.

“Was I wrong though?” she protested with a tilt of her chin. “We’re not exactly seein’ each other are we?”

“Well I’m not seein’ anyone else, Jules,” he said, his face turning slightly more serious.

“What’re y’sayin’ Si?” she breathed.

“Just think we should start bein’ honest with ourselves, that’s all,” he replied, his chestnut eyes trailing over her face.

“What about Rob?”

“I reckon he’d be alright with it,” he said, raising his hand to cup her face.

“I reckon he would too, but I think he’d kick your arse first,” Jules laughed softly.

“I’d let him if it got me wi’ you,” he laughed with her as his thumb brushed gently over her cheek.

“Dick’ead,” she murmured, her tongue darting out across her bottom lip as he lifted her chin and tilted his head down to capture her lips with his.

* * * * * *

Ghost waited at the door to Price’s office, outwardly presenting the model of military perfection but his mind whirled in a mess of guilt and confusion. He regretted pushing Jules as far as he had, and there wasn’t much in his life he did regret. Strange how a lot of it involved her though…

“Si, stopppp!” she laughed, batting his arm away from her waist.

Price rounded the corner of the corridor, his face drawing into a scowl as he spotted Ghost. He didn’t need to say a word, simply making a gesture to enter that Ghost followed without question.

The scent of patchouli permeated his nose as they climbed the uneven stone steps of the old drapery building that housed Affleck’s Palace.

He stood at ease before the Captain’s desk as Price sat and deliberately took his time making himself comfo​​rtable. Opening his top drawer he pulled out a cigar, clipped the end with a silver clipper that Ghost himself had gifted him and then lit the tobacco. He stared at his Lieutenant with an ambiguous expression as he waited for Ghost to break the silence.

“It’s on the top floor innit?” he asked, groaning at her pseudo-innocent face.

‘I didn’t know! I swear down!” she gasped out a giggle, grabbing his wrist and hauling up the stairs behind her.

“She’ll do,” Ghost rumbled, scrunching his nose a little under his mask which made the drying blood crack away from his skin.

“And is that your professional opinion?” Price asked, a hint of sarcasm making its way into his words.

“Yeah,” Ghost nodded once.

“Si! I found ‘em!” Jules squealed, bouncing over to him with four small figurines and a beaming smile on her face.

“Want to talk about it?” the Captain probed but Ghost shook his head.

“Negative.”

“Just going to throw this out there Simon, but maybe you need to talk to her.”

Ghost shook his head again but found himself unable to meet Price’s stare. They remained in their non-verbal standoff as the seconds ticked by but Price eventually let out a huff and shook his head in defeat.

“Go on then, dismissed. Just…stop being an arse to her, yeah?”

“It’s like you don’t even know me,” Ghost retorted, trying to lighten the atmosphere a little before leaving the office.

Slipping unseen into an empty room along the corridor, Ghost locked the door and then leaned back against it before sliding to the floor. Pulling his balaclava off over his head he ran his hand through his short blond hair and probed at his throbbing nose. It wasn’t broken, although it wouldn’t have been the first time. Resting his arms on his raised knees he dropped his head and let out a deep sigh.

They had to pass through the cafe on their way back to the stairs that would take them out of the building. Jules walked beside him clutching the paper bag that held her treasured purchase. He didn’t want to leave just yet, desperate to spend more time with her.

“D’you fancy a hot chocolate?” he asked, nodding his head towards the cafe’s counter.

“Umm, yeah, we could do that,” she replied.

He ordered for them whilst she found them two seats, near the window so they could watch the world go by below.

“Here y’are,” he said, placing a mug of hot chocolate topped with all the trimmings before her.

“Cheers, Si,” Jules muttered, but he could tell she was distracted.

“What’s up, chuck?” he asked, nudging her knee under the table.

“Y’don’t…y’don’t think it’s a stupid present?” she asked timidly, nodding towards the paper bag on the table.

“Don’t be daft Jules, he’s gonna love ‘em, and if he doesn’t, I’ll ‘av ‘em,” Simon grinned, trying to reassure her. “If someone bought me Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle figures for my 19th I’d be made up!”

“Is that a hint?” Jules laughed, “‘cause I’m not buyin’ you Turtles for your birthday.”

Taglist: @aykxz98

[anjaelle]

The Girlfriend Experience

Pairing: Frank Castle x Black! OFC (Cori)

Tags: Mild Age Gap (Mid-late twenties OC/mid-thirties Frank), Frank Corrupting an Honest Woman, Frank being a smug piece of shit, choking, spanking, marking, hair grabbing, Fingering

Summary: Frank, ever the menace, convinces Cori that it's okay to break rules.

Word Count: 3.3K

a/n: This started out as one thing and turned into something completely different. I started this in Fall 2022 and I'm just now finishing it. Congratulate me now.

(Gif Source)

She very rarely visited her brothers shop. At least, that was the case these last few years. She could understand why Brandon's chair was so popular: He was funny, he was skilled, and he was adept at charming the masses.

She could remember learning how to do shape-ups and trims as a teenager just from watching him work while she did her homework. Sometimes she'd listen in on the barber shop discussions with mild intrigue. They'd talk about sports, and women, and...more sports. Sometimes they'd talk about whatever show or movie they'd watched last night.

It was like watching a foreign entity in an enclosure from a distance, if she was being honest.

Quiet and pensive, she was able to fly under the radar for the vast majority of her teenage years. Sure, sometimes boys would talk to her when she visited. And she'd shyly respond before burying her head back into the books. As she got older and started working in the shop part-time, she noticed the looks even more. For the most part, she could brush them off. But every so often someone would cross the line and Brandon would put his foot down to make it clear that his little sister was off-limits. That was the agreement, and that was the rule.

Then Frank Castle showed up.

Cori wasn't sure when Frank became a regular. While she was juggling grad school and work, she didn't really have time to visit her brother anymore. The first time she met HIM was when she had to fill in for Brandon, and Frank scoffed at her supposed ability to cut and style his hair the way he liked.

That was usually the case with new clients. The incredulity used to piss her off, but now it was just tired.

Unlike previous clients, however, Frank watched her carefully as she worked. It was mildly unsettling, if she was honest with herself, because she wasn't used to people watching her the way she watched others. It didn't help that he had the world's best poker face.

It took 2 more visits before he finally spoke to her in something other than one word responses and grunts.

When her brother had to leave to pick up his kids, she offered to stay and take care of Frank. Despite how intimidating he initially seemed, he exuded a sense of safety that made her trust him. The space was empty and quiet, save for the gentle buzz of the clipper as it glided over his hair.

"What's Cori short for?" He asked, suddenly. She was caught off guard by the question. Something fluttered in her stomach at the gruff way his voice handled her name and she felt her hands hesitate.

"...Corinthian." She responded, plainly. He raised a brow at her and she shrugged, restarting the clippers to even out the back of his hair.

"You're fucking with me."

"Am I?" She chanced a small smirk at him in the mirror and their eyes met. He smirked at her in response. Then an uncharacteristic chuckle rumbled from his chest.

"What's it really short for?"

She gently tilted his head forward to trim the hair at the nape of his neck.

"Nothing. I'm named after my father." She confessed. He hummed, satisfied by the answer and comfortable with the silence that followed.

After that, they would always greet each other whenever she came by the shop to visit. He said her name with a level of cool distance that she didn't buy for a second.

She wasn't sure if her brother ever noticed the soft smile that crossed Frank's features whenever she walked through the door.

---

"You had me in your phone as 'Big Guy'?" He asked, grinning, "Kinda lazy, huh?"

She crossed the room and sat cross-legged on her bed, suddenly hyper aware of how everything in her small studio apartment looked. Despite this being Cori's home, she felt out of her element. After all, meeting clients after hours was a no-no. It was rule number one above ALL rules.

But, of course, Frank always found a way to make her break her own code of ethics.

She picked at her thumbnail and shrugged, "I don't know. What else was I supposed to call you when I didn't know you yet?"

He didn't answer, but he shut the door behind him and slipped his boots off, neatly placing them in the corner. Cori was grateful he remembered THAT rule, at least. As if reading her mind, he glanced down at his clothes and grumbled something about rain.

"You could've rescheduled," she offered, "I wouldn't have minded. This isn't worth walking in the rain for."

He answered by shaking the damp growth of curls from his forehead, "You know you're the only one who knows how I like it. And it's not like I know what you do when I'm not around. You probably gotta--I dunno...go to class or somethin'. Save baby animals. Tutor orphans. Shit like that."

At this, she rolled her eyes and rested her chin in her hand, shooting him a tired look as he moved to pull his wet gray hoodie over his head and shoulders.

"I'll have you know I live a very interesting life," she averted her gaze as his Semper Fi shirt briefly rode up, revealing his treasure trail and and light scarring on his stomach, "I'm young, I'm pretty. The world is my oyster...or whatever."

She sighed, not even believing her own lies. Her life consisted of work, and staring at her business management books until the words started to blend together in a puree of intellectualism. She couldn't even remember the last time she wore a cute outfit and went to the club. Or the last time she texted her friends. She made a mental note to do both at some point as she rolled onto her stomach and reached under her bed for her toolkit.

"You don't gotta have an interesting life," he said, watching her do gymnastics in an effort to find her things, "Boring's good. Boring's safe."

Her hand swept across the floor until her fingers brushed the shoebox, "Who says I want to be good and safe? Maybe I could use a little bit of danger in my life. It'll give me interesting stories to tell, at least."

Pulling the box from its hiding space, she looked up to see Frank leaning up against the wall, watching her intensely with an amused look on her face, "You don't mean that. If you saw the insane shit I saw..."

There was a pregnant pause between them, with Cori feeling like she was missing something and Frank refusing to finish his statement. She jumped to her feet, choosing to break the silence.

"You want some water or something? I also have iced tea, ginger ale-"

"Water's good."

"Is tap alright?"

"Do I seem like the Perrier type?"

She offered a small smile as she turned the faucet on and waited for the water to cool, "Maybe a little."

He guffawed.

"Did you wash and condition this time?" Cori asked. She eyed his hair, already knowing the answer.

"No."

"Why not?" She handed him the glass filled halfway with ice water, and his eyes locked onto hers. She nearly dropped it.

"I guess I kinda like it better when you do it," he held her gaze as he took a long sip from his glass. She deadpanned.

"So what you're saying is you forgot."

He pulled the glass from his lips and grinned at her, slyly.

"You think Imma liar?"

"...I'm not entertaining that with a response."

She wasn't sure what he did for a living. Unsurprisingly, he wasn't one for storytelling and evaded doing so by listening to Cori ramble on about her life. Was his day-to-day so full of turmoil that the mundane seemed like reprieve? All she knew was that he was in the military a while back, and that his wife passed away. She would make up scenarios in her head where he was a boxing champion or a spy.

Big, broody, and decorated in scars and dark bruises, Frank seemed wildly out of place in her small, pink decorated bathroom. She made sure to grab the chair from the kitchen, as well as a towel, a comb, and HER expensive shampoo and conditioner that he certainly wouldn't repay her for.

"You owe me extra for this," she warned, glancing at him from above as he tilted his head back over the sink, "This high quality shit is expensive, Castle."

He hummed his response and closed his eyes as she ran the detachable shower head over his dark hair. The moment the warm water touched his scalp, he sighed in content. And the sigh went straight to her coochie, much to her annoyance. The feeling intensified as she lathered up his hair and he peeked an eye open to look at her.

She knew Frank had grown used to her. His barber shop persona was fascinating. He'd argue with her brother about sports team rankings and drafts. Then the deep rumble of disapproval that blossomed from his chest every time her brother mentioned an athlete he hated made her shift in her seat.

Once upon a time, Frank claimed that she was way too serious. And, thus, he enjoyed pushing her buttons for his own sick enjoyment. Cori understood that he wasn't really like this with most people. He fell into the habit of flustering her on purpose. Especially around the other guys in the shop, though they never seemed to notice.

She had the upper hand when he was in her apartment, to an extent.

The very first time she washed his hair, he stiffened at her touch and it took a while for him to visibly calm down. He admitted to her that it'd been a while since someone else washed his hair, and he wasn't used to it. When she asked him if he wanted her to stop, he shot her a long, intense look before telling her he was fine.

He confessed to her during his second apartment visit that his "profession" made him wary about most things, including touching and...overt closeness. Of course, those weren't the words he used. He mumbled something about offensive hands and defensive moves. She asked for clarification and he evaded the question.

She wasn't sure what their relationship was now. But there was a noticeable shift. Cori's fingers gently massaged his scalp, and she hummed something to herself. His shoulders relaxed, a small smile graced his features, and he opened his eyes again to watch her as she worked the comb through his hair. She was keenly aware of it, but she shyly avoided his gaze, focusing instead on rinsing out the last of the conditioner.

"Up." She commanded, in a hoarse whisper. He sat up and her eyes followed the water that dripped down his neck, staining his shirt. She knew he noticed. She chose to play stupid. Cori towel dried his hair, beginning at his neck and working her way up to his hair that fell over his dark eyes. She worked in silence, lost in her own head until he lightly grabbed her wrist.

"Com'ere," he said with a head tilt. She eyed him curiously, and he laughed. "I'm serious, Cori. C'mon."

She sighed, pretending to be tired but internally intrigued. The minute she stepped in front of him, he gently pulled at her arm.

"Closer..."

She stopped fighting the smile forming on her face as she rolled her eyes and shuffled an inch closer.

"A little closer," Frank coaxed.

"You're so obnoxious." Cori mumbled, but stepped an inch closer anyway, refusing to give him the benefit of direct eye contact.

His arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her into the space between his legs. She was surprised to find her hands moving of their own volition: one resting on his thick shoulder and the other gently brushing the droplets of water from the side of his face with the soft towel.

"There ya go.” He looked up at her with mischief in his eyes, "You gonna stop avoiding me, now?"

"I wasn't avoiding you," Cori grumbled.

She was absolutely avoiding him. She continued to towel try his hair as he rubbed small circles into the small of her back.

"It's not gonna work, Frank."

He snorted and she couldn't even blame him. She didn't sound the least bit convincing. He cocked his head to the side and licked his lips.

"Are you trying to hurt my feelings, Cor?"

"Yes."

She combed her fingers through his hair, pushing it back and away from his face. Anything to avoid looking directly at him. With his hands on her, and the close proximity, Cori wasn't confident in her ability to hold out for much longer.

"Sweetheart, you're killing me," her breath hitched. He leaned forward, pressing his face against her soft stomach.

Cori was always startled by how quickly she blacked out whenever he got into her head. She couldn't remember climbing into his lap and tangling her fingers in his damp hair as she kissed him. His hands roamed from her lower back, slipping beneath her cotton shorts to grab her bare ass in his large calloused hands.

"Shit. You were ready for me, huh?" He chided.

"Shut up."

The only fleeting logical thought floating in her empty, horny head was the question of how the chair could handle their combined weight. His tongue slipped between her lips and he let out a low groan that pushed the thoughts away just as quickly as they arrived. Cori rocked her hips against his lap as Frank smiled against her lips.

"You're so smug," she mumbled, moving to kiss along his jaw. Her hands slipped under his shirt and her nails walked along the hard lines of his stomach. He sucked air between his teeth. He worked her shorts down over her ass and she pushed his shirt over his head, tossing it into the empty tub beside them.

She kissed down his neck and chest, pausing only to examine the numerous scars and fading bruises decorating his skin.

“Do they hurt?” Cori asked, tenderly. She hovered her fingers over a reddened mark that appeared to be the most recent of his injuries. He clicked his tongue dismissively.

He flattened her hand on his chest under his palm, “See? I’m good, baby. You don’t gotta worry about me, I’m not fragile.” He dragged her hand slowly down his torso, and the muscles in his stomach reflexively twitched in response. Cori swallowed hard as she felt the length of him harden between her thighs.

“Oh…” she managed to whisper, under her breath. He curled his hand around the back of her neck and pulled her down for a slow kiss. His tongue traced the seam of her lips, and she sighed contentedly into his mouth. As if moving of their own volition, Cori’s hands worked to drag her nails over his sensitive length beneath the coarse denim. As she toyed with the head of his dick through his jeans, his hands roamed around her stomach and reached up to grab her breasts under her shirt.

“Fuck…” She started, instinctively arching her back and abandoning the zipper she’d begun working on. She pressed her hands over his, urging him to touch her more, “…that feels…”

She struggled to get the words out as he pushed her shirt up over her breasts to tease her nipples between his fingers.

“Use your words, baby,” he coaxed. When he wrapped his lips around her right nipple and reached between them to tease her clit, a hoarse cry rose from her throat.

She whined, rocking her hips against his hand. Her head lolled back and it took everything in her to keep from falling off of his lap. A strong arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her closer, so she couldn’t wriggle away, “Please…”

“Please what, Cor’?” He slipped his index and middle fingers deep into her pussy, curling them against her. She gripped his shoulder, digging her nails into his skin.

“God god god,” she whined, pitifully, "right there."

He watched her work herself into a frenzy, exuding the air of semi-smug amusement. She wanted to slap the grin off of his face. She could barely remember why he was here in the first place. Maybe he planned this all along. Then he smacked her on the ass—one sharp quick smack—and all she could do was allow her brain to short circuit. She managed to pull a deep groan from him--one that rumbled throughout her body and made her shudder--when she dragged her nails along his scalp and a grabbed some of his damp hair in her fist. The groan dissolved into a low laugh, and he sucked air between his teeth.

"Harder." He commanded. She complied, giving his curls a sharp tug as she rolled her hips in his lap. An almost primal grunt resonated from his parted lips that she swallowed with her own. Cori reached down again to make another eager attempt at undoing his zipper, and he stopped her, grabbing both of her hands in one of his.

"Are you talking to anyone else?" He suddenly asked.

Cori felt like she was in a thick fog and she'd lost all memory of every word she'd ever spoken. She took a deep breath as if trying to register where she was.

"...I don't think so." She slurred through the haze.

His fingers stilled between her thighs and she pouted, shifting her hips to chase the oncoming climax. She could almost taste it, it was so close.

"You don't think so?" He pressed his thick thumb against her clit, and her thighs tensed around him. She was positive he could feel her heart pounding.

"Frankie please..." She arched her back.

"I can find out if you are, Cor'. So speak up."

A small grin pulled at the corner of her mouth when she locked eyes with him. She could almost drown in the darkness of his gaze. It excited her. She wasn't talking to anyone else, it's not like she had the time. But a part of her wanted to lie just to see what he would do. He quirked an eyebrow at her like he wanted to devour her whole. All he needed was the confirmation he wanted, because they both knew he didn't like sharing.

She decided to risk it, "What if I am?"

"Are you?"

"Maybe."

His fingers pressed against her g-spot and her body jolted in response, leaving small aftershocks in its wake.

"Don't fucking play games with me." He licked his lips and picked up the speed of his thumb on her clit, "Is someone else making you come?"

She swallowed hard, shaking her head.

"Use your words." He demanded.

"No, baby."

She felt his dick jump between her thighs at the term of endearment. He curled her fingers against her g-spot again, and then again. And he pulled her flush against him when her legs began to shake and she tried to run from the pleasure

"I'm the only one that makes you feel this good, right, sweet girl?"

"Yes, yes, yes, yessss." She chanted, digging her nails into his arm. "Oh, ffffuck!"

He whispered in her ear, talking her through it as she came and leaving hickies on her neck. Cori shuddered hard in his lap and throwing her head back so hard she nearly tipped over. She was sure her neighbors thought she was getting murdered in her bathroom, and she knew she'd have to face the curious looks the next time she ran into them in the hall. But as she came down from her high and dove into another deep kiss after he licked her off of his fingers, she couldn't bring herself to give a shit.

Frank suddenly stood up, wrapping her legs around his hips to carry her back to her bedroom.

"Wait, your hair." She mumbled between kisses, "I have to--"

"Fuck the hair," he grumbled, tossing her onto the mattress, "You can do it tomorrow morning."

[mrsdesade]

meet my fandoms OCs!

This is gonna be a list always in update to show you my OCs included into famous fandoms; I'd like to have them separated by my 100% original stories; enjoy their playlists, infodumps and moodboards 🤍

For now I can offer to you them:

Mira (X-Men/Marvel MCU)

Lara (The Sandman)

Nova (Alien Prometheus/Covenant)

Ophera (The Boys)

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Mira (of Blood and Mischief)

Fandom: Marvel (MCU) & X-Men Name: Mira (Miroslayra) Frost - Vein (X-Men name) Age: 37 Pronouns/Sexuality: she/her - pansexual Hair colour: white with red regrowth Eyes colour: red Height: 1.83cm Languages: Russian - English - Asgardian Job/Occupation: so many, she worked for the X-Men and Shield for a short time, she deserted due to an accident into her teaching role at the X-Academy, after she had a collaboration with the Avengers and worked for a short time to the TVA. She always lived being a defensor. Powers: blood manipulation - dimensional travel (after corruption arc) Pairing: Loki (previously Erik Lehnsherr) Parents: Emma Frost & Emplate Like: hot tea - discovering new music types - late night bath - sea and lakes - fireworks - meditation - learning unusual facts - bad jokes - simple designed clothes - her vintage iPod - travelling - sharing with others her knowledge - poetry - the space - training and fighting Dislike: extremely crowded places - cold weather - syringes and needles - everything that is medical related - lighthouses - noisy and loud people - stay alone at home for long times - Sentinels - sometimes Avengers

Mira Playlist 🎶

Mira Pinterest Board 🎨

Mira and Loki fanart 🖌️

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Lara (for your Eyes)

Fandom: Sandman Name: Lara Campbell-Fobso Age: 25 Pronouns/Sexuality: she/her - bisexual Hair colour: dyed dark red (originally brown) Eyes colour: hazel Height: 1.66cm Languages: English - French (not so much) Job/Occupation: no one, she was dreaming to became a writer or a journalist Powers: no one, she's human Pairing: The Corinthian Parents: unknown Like: hanging out - shooting polaroids - organize photos on her personal devices - writing - long car riding - dancing into the club - drinking alcohol - smoking - shopping on vintage store - luxury places that she cannot afford - physical contact - lazy days at home - sleeping for long times and dreaming Dislike: sand - following the rules - paying her rent and bills - working for the human system - the law - hot weather - people who makes fun of suicidal topics or psychiatric disorders

Lara Playlist 🎶

Lara Pinterest Board 🎨

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Nova (Heart-shaped Box)

Fandom: Alien Saga (Prometheus/Covenant) Name: Nova (synthetic model N.O.V.A 0) Age: 35 Pronouns/Sexuality: she/they - demisexual Hair colour: pearl white Eyes colour: transparent crystal white Height: 1.77cm Languages: she's programmed to speak all human languages and being able to communicate with numbers and morse code Job/Occupation: Commander for space missions for the Vasser-Armiger Corporation Powers: she's a sophysticated model of synthetic android, she has many abilities more than the humans, like speed, strenght, rapidity of thought, high IQ, she feel less pain, she's artificially made on the inside Pairing: David 8 Parents: artificially created by the Vasser-Armiger Corporation Like: floating in zero gravity condition - staring at the deep space - listening philosophy about Gods and creations explained - instrumental synth music - admiring new life forms (at some points she find fascinating even Xenormorphs) - flying with a spaceship - accomplish her missions - still lakes views Dislike: lazyness - rude manners - disrespect towards androids - AI without intellectual freedom - humans corporations

Nova Playlist 🎶

Nova Pinterest Board 🎨

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Ophera (American Horror Show)

Fandom: The Boys Name: Ophera (Miranda Reinslayer) Age: 33 Pronouns/Sexuality: she/her - bisexual Hair colour: obsidian black Eyes colour: deep red Height: 1,75cm Languages: American English Job/Occupation: working superhero for the Vought; third member of the Seven Powers: metals manipulation, super strenght and she can feel less pain than normal, her vocal cords are made of thin metal and she can sing wonderfully Pairing: no one (abusive relationship with Homelander, faking to be a couple for the media) Parents: she's a laboratory child raised by scientists and Madeline Stillwell

Like: rock live music - smoking - ride her motorcycle - doing missions outside the country - Queen Maeve and Starlight Dislike: theatre - musical - radical religion -electric shocks jokes - flying high - skyscrapers (she suffer from vertigo) - sometimes Homelander

Ophera Playlist 🎶

Ophera Pinterest Board 🎨

[eroskissedskin]

ONE MADE IN YOUR IMAGE.

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TAGS: mlm, nsfw, oc, abuse, dead dove probably, corintheus, dreamsire, oc x canon characters, strong language, emotional manipulation

.

.

Where Desire ends up making a creation akin to Dream to take out their frustrations on yet they find out that Dream has done the same with thee Corinthian. Ps The 2 creations end up running away together once they realize.

.

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Soft finger pads press against the beautifully dark eyelid, placing another eyelash for good measure

The final little tweak they had to make.

It all had to be perfect and if Desire's memory didn't deceive them, this is /exactly/ how Dream's eyes looked shut.

/Who cares? It was all cosmetic eitherway./

They think as they shake their glowing gold face in order to shake the thought of them staring their brother long enough, to know how each eyelash perfectly crowned his cosmic eyes.

The creation didn't need to blink, nor breathe nor have his meticulously well made-anatomically correct heart- beat. Yet there was something calming about the creation process that made all Endless enjoy adding fun little characteristics to their own.

Plus this one was made with a very particular role in mind- thus why his appearance had to be as close to the real deal as possible without Morpheus himself noticing right away.

The newborn was tall and lanky, his skin pale but still human like. With dark, semi-curly locks that fell effortlessly around his sunken cheeks.

Pretty hung with eyes blue like ice.

Sadly the galaxies their brother was having as eyes would be too much of a giveaway so Desire went with the more human like option to portray this..cold gaze their brother always gave them.

It was attention enough and thus it was good enough for the disgusting desperation Lust would experience at the pit of their stomach everytime they would encounter their brother.

Shaking their head to fend off this trail of thinking Desire unlocked their digits from around their new creation's neck- their mind having gotten the best of them /again/.

Not their fault. This swan like neck, akin to their brother was just /too/ easy to choke.. One could say he was begging for it..

"Ah..~♡"

Desire notes as they pull away from their yet lifeless creation in order to observe their handiwork.

He looked perfect! The only difference between him and Dream were his eyes and hair texture and length. Which was fine with Desire.

Leaning in close to press their barely clothed body onto his naked one, Lust caresses their brother's lookalike cheek and tiptoes to reach his face.

Pulling him close by his waist, they press their flushed red lips against his, breathing life into him for the first time.

Ocean blues shoot open as Desire kept grinding up against their creation, kissing his lips in a way he couldn't help but kiss back- indulging himself on his creator's soft lips.

Clealry he had been made to effortlessly desire the Endless-much like every other creation of Lust.

His pale hands reach up to caress Desire's forearms, trembling slighty since this was the first thing he was touching on his life. Plus it just so happened to be his creator and master, which made a slight shiver of fear and awe course through his newborn body.

The Endless didn't hold back albeit, their golden hands reaching lower to coil around their creation's abdomen and waist, their intent clear with the way they deepened the kiss with their own.

A low moan comes out of the man's maws- his first sound ever uttered being one of pleasure.

Not that it could have been anything else, with the way Desire's hands were on his cock in an instant.

Plus he was way too disoriented to form any words even with the insane amount of knowledge about the lexicon- amongst others- the Endless had planted into him.

"Good~♡.."

Desire whispers between feverish kisses they plant on their new creation.

"At least you work~♡!"

The god adds and pulls away leaving their golden creation wanting more,his body scorching with need and excitement to experience the world around him.

"Do you know why you were made~♡"

Desire asks just to make sure everything was well.

Not that they had ever made an imperfect creation but it wasn't

ever improper to check.

The youth nods, half lidded eyes still full of desire that flushed red on his lower abdomen.

"To be used by you, tend to your every need and bring lust to anyone you command."

He speaks slolwy, like he is still figuring out the words and their meanings altogether.

As he does that, his hands travel atop his body, feeling the well sculpted work of the Endless.

Flat palm caresses his waist and burning abdomen, his breath hitching the moment his fingers brush over his half-hardness with utter /desperation/.

"Good~♡"

Desire flashes a smile and puts their hands together in satisfaction.

That is all he needed to know about his creation for now- the surprise when he will realize what he is actually going to be used for, something Desire was /so/ excited to witness.

"Your name shall be.. Dorik!~♡"

The god exclaims and claps their palms silently keeping their digits close to their deep red lips.

A name used to mock their brother's choice of a favorite creation.

Corinthian...

Why even base your nightmare's name to an architectural time period?

Dorik was the same now. An ode to a laughable choice by the dream king.

"Let's get you prepped up! We have a dinner to attend to!~♡"

They laugh and walk away leaving their creation dripping lust and eyeing their exposed back for a second before he run off behind them.

[imjustmessy]

ALRIGHT FIRST POST EVER

I can’t believe I’m doing this, I’m not a writer, but I was hearing Billie eilish’s chihiro snippet and of course my brainrot for the Corinthian has to show up and made me write this, again, IM NOT A WRITER, so this is probably garbage-ish but it was pretty fun to write, I added my sandman oc but it can be read as a Cori x reader too!

Warnings: angst pretty much without plot

The sound of Waves.

Waves crashing, humid air and the rough sand against Fya’s bare feet…and tears pouring down her cheeks.

it was weird having this much awareness of one’s surroundings and senses in a dream

Maybe it had to do with the arch Nightmare standing in front of her.

“I trusted you”

She said softly to the blonde man, who was about 10 feet away from her, In the waking he couldn’t have heard her, but reality bends in a dream, or is it a nightmare?

He was just standing still, his face didn’t show any strong emotion at all, just…a slight sadness

“You knew who I was, what I was from the beginning.” He stated, looking directly at her, even with his dark glasses on she could tell where his gaze was, she clenched her jaw, her fist balled to the sides of her torso, more, hot, salty tears ran down her face

“No…I don’t know you, I don’t know you at all, Corinthian.”

The blonde’s face changes, from lightly frowned to completely blank, and his chin tilts upwards like he was talking to a lesser being, like he hadn’t shared so, so many things together, walking along a sunset, dancing drunkenly on a random street after partying all night, sharing laughs, kisses, and so much more, suddenly it all seemed like it was just a dream, dissolving as if it never happened.

“Of course you don’t.”

[aggressivelyaverage21]

Chapter 18: 1 Corinthians 9:24-27

The Trials are here!!! Beatrice works herself to her limits. She searches for God, and finds out she isn't alone.

It was a cold December morning. Christmas was only a few weeks away. Part of Beatrice wondered if they did the trials this time of year specifically for the weather. Growing up in London and then her time in Switzerland, Beatrice wasn’t a stranger to the cold. She didn’t mind it most days, but today? Today she minded. 

Beatrice was tense. Despite the several extra deep breaths she'd given herself before joining the yelling cadre of sisters she hadn’t seen before in the hall, the tension had worked its way back into her frame. They hadn’t even started yet and she was actively fighting her body to keep reminding herself to loosen up. 

She was trembling—unperceivable to an onlooker, but Beatrice could feel every little twitch. The cold seeping through her clothes was only making it worse. 

No matter how much she told herself it was just like any other morning, nearly every other morning, Beatrice couldn’t relax as they lined up just outside the Cradle at the start of a dirt path worn down by every Sister Warrior to ever join the OCS. She already felt her heart pounding. She already was having to think about controlling her breathing. 

She closed her eyes, focusing on the sting of the cold air on her cheeks. She liked the runs. She did. She was good at them too. Getting worked up and tired now wasn’t going to do her any favors. 

Beatrice opened her eyes to search for Gwen—to get the instructions for what they were about to do, but the Sister in charge of training them was nowhere to be found.  Instead it was a different sister. A sister that, like the ones who had been yelling at them to wake up earlier, Beatrice didn’t recognize. She was small, short, but even in the black of early morning Beatrice could see how imposing she was. Her posture was firm, but not rigid in an uncomfortable way, just solid in a way that took up space and wasn’t at all sorry for it. 

Beatrice stole a glance at her classmates next to her as they waited for the inevitable introduction. Several of her classmates were more wide eyed than normal and looked no less ready for this than Beatrice felt. Abigail was doing a better job of schooling her nerves than the rest of them but the tapping of her fingers against her thumb at her side gave her away. Jude was quietly encouraging the few sisters behind Beatrice and Abigail, something she always did when she was struggling—getting outside of herself. 

The introduction never came. The Sister paced in front of them, back and forth. Scrutinizing them. The other Sisters that had been in the hall filled in along the sides of the path. “Today is not the day to pace yourselves. Push. Give it everything you have. Today you find out what you’re made of, and we find out who our sisters are. Three laps on the 5k loop. You have an hour and a half.” 

Beatrice didn’t wait for permission. She didn’t have a feeling they were going to get it anyway. She pressed into the ball of her left foot stable beneath her and took off. Her feet dug into the path beneath them, the subtle sound of the rubber of her soles scratching against the dirt. 

She tore down that path as fast as she could go. It was a 5 kilometer loop. She’d been running several of them in a row at the suggestion of Shannon and Sister Gwen. She could do this. She could run, even with the sprinting that had a burn settling into her legs and an ache in her lungs.  

Abigail was beside her for the first loop before she fell back. Beatrice pushed and pushed. Keeping her legs churning, her stride long. Her chest opened as she went, and strangely enough Beatrice felt her heartbeat settle into the rhythm she’d come to expect from these runs. 

As she kept running, Beatrice hadn’t started lapping her classmates yet but she had a feeling they were well behind her. She’d seen a few of them running together around a bend. The sight of the cluster of 5 prospective Sister Warriors sent ice down Beatrice’s spine. She almost sputtered to a stop, or, well, kicked it into the next gear to catch up with them so she wouldn’t be alone. Maybe this, her need to be first, her need to prove she was up for the task, how separate she was from her class sometimes, maybe that would be what caused her to fail. 

The moment was short lived. 

Because the sister who had been waiting for her in that hall—a tall slender woman with dark eyes, and freckles sitting across her tan skin—yelled at her to keep going. 

So, she’d focused back on the path ahead of her and got back to running. Her pace. On her own until she was rounding the last corner. With the finishing in sight Beatrice shivered as she slowed her pace, the blast of icy in her face sent a bead of sweat trickling down the back of her neck as she crossed the unofficial finish line they typically used..

Hopeful that her performance on the run was satisfactory, Beatrice moved herself to the side to wait for the rest of her classmates to finish. It was usually when she and Lilith sat below one of the Jacaranda trees, stretched, and talked about whatever reading Beatrice had been assigned the day prior by Gwen or Mother Superion. Sometimes, Shannon would join them, meeting them with bottles of water or cups of tea depending on the weather. At Mary and Sister Agatha’s behest, she was taking her time getting back to the early running, following what Beatrice had learned was only the latest in a long list of head injuries.  

She wasn’t running with Lilith this time. Her taller sister wasn’t at her side. The rhythm of her breathing wasn’t there to give Beatrice something to focus on other than the sound of her own. She wasn’t slowing to a stop with Beatrice, spurring her on with that last extra push as they sprinted to the stop. And there certainly wasn’t Shannon there waiting on the two of them. 

“Sister Beatrice,” the nameless sister approached her as Beatrice paced, her hands falling to the top of her head as she tried to stretch her lungs a bit and calm her breathing. Beatrice’s arms fell immediately to her sides gripping the quarter zip she’d decided to start the day in at the hips. She grinned, a little sadistically if Beatrice had anything to say about it, as she watched Beatrice try to catch her breath. “Burpees. Go.” 

Ah, sadistically was correct. Beatrice had the fleeting thought as she nodded, moving to the grass at the side of the path and began. 

Her body collided with the ground as she dropped. The cold dew was a shock to her face and palms. She was already sweating but the extra moisture to her knees and chest was far from welcome. She popped up jumping as she did, arms stretched over her head enough she felt the slight pull of her obliques as she did. 

Down. Then up again. Beatrice had gotten to fifty by the time Abigail was joining her at the side. 

Beatrice usually tried to race whoever it was next to her, wanting to get slightly more done with each rep, however this time, she fell into a pace. Each girl that joined fell in as they finished. Beatrice lost count of how many times she’d counted to ten somewhere around 15. She didn’t see the point in counting any more. Not with the way the morning was going. 

It was still pitch black as they worked. Moving to pushups next. The cadence given to them was slow enough to be painful. Slow enough that it was tempting to rest her chest on the grass at the bottom. Slow enough she felt the need to wiggle or reposition her hands at the top like a few of the other girls had started doing. 

Anything to ease the burn settling into her shoulders. Or the fatigue creeping from her lower back and core through her legs as they were beginning to shake. Her hands were slipping in the wet grass. The balls of her feet too, and it seemed to only get worse the more she tried to wiggle to get more comfortable so Beatrice made the decision to suffer. To stay still and suffer the burn so she wasn’t fidgeting because – sisters don’t fidget, Beatrice. 

It should have been a relief when they were switched to doing low crawls through the dew soaked grass. But the proper technique? It worked your core and was hell on your elbows and knees if you were made to do it long enough. Your hips lifted slightly off to move along the ground with considerably more efficiency than whatever fake ‘army crawl’ actors usually imitated on television. 

It was something the older sisters called “animal PT” and Beatrice should have mentally prepared herself for it. She was never a big fan of it. The somewhat strange movements always left her aching, and teased a string of cramps through her legs depending on how she was walking or sitting afterward. 

Up and down the field they went. And Beatrice had the good sense to be thankful it was in one of the few patches of grass they had surrounding the cradle. The rocky soil would have left them cut to hell, and caked in dirt—though the grass sticking to her neck and face wasn’t her favorite either. At least this way there was some cushion between their harder edges and the unforgiving mountain terrain. 

Bear crawls were next. The reminders from the sisters running the trials to keep their butts down, engage their core, and move faster were constant. Beatrice had long turned her brain off and focused on the three feet in front of her. That ever-moving goalpost. It was all she could do.  The sun wasn’t even up yet and already they had done almost a full day’s worth of training. 

Then ‘frog jumps’, or, well, just broad jumps. At least for these their shoulders got a break. But they were fairly quickly shifted to burpee broad jumps. It felt more like diving at the ground and struggling to her feet more than anything actually athletic. A sister had come up next to Beatrice as she traveled back and forth. She seemed to be encouraging but it was only on the periphery of Beatrice’s awareness. 

Beatrice focused on breathing. It seemed to work out to fall into a rhythm with the jumps, exhaling as her chest came to contract with the ground. She pushed herself forward one more jump at a time. Up. Then forward and down. As she went Beatrice wasn’t sure which was worse, going up or down the slight slope of the field. 

She stumbled forward as she turned around again at the end of the field. Her hand ran over the top of her head, habitually smoothing the baby hairs that usually tickled her forehead away from her always so sensitive skin. There weren't any hairs there though, they were still pulled back tight in the braids Shannon had given her. 

Brave. Be brave. Beatrice reminded herself as she felt the ridges of her hair, several more braids than she usually wore. With another deep breath she hurled herself forward and down again, and again. Each time she got back to her feet Beatrice was tempted to step up rather than use her core to both feet up even with her hands at the same time. 

When Beatrice was mentally preparing herself for her least favorite of the ‘animals’—duck walks—Sister Gwen stepped to the side of the field beside the sister who had been working them, literally and physically into the ground. 

“Bring it in girls!” She called her hands shifting from being tucked under her arms for warmth to buried deep in the hoody pocket at her waist. The sky was starting to fade to a lighter purple. Beatrice thought there might have been a little bit of pink starting to paint the wisps of clouds to the east, but she was also a little afraid that it was her imagination. 

Beatrice wiped her face with the hem of her shirt, though it was wet with dew and sweat and didn’t do much but smear the grass over her face. The sisters organizing the trials passed out water bottles telling each of them to drink. Beatrice nodded as she took the one passed to her, though she made no move to so much as twist the lid open. Her lungs ached as she tried to control her breathing. 

She was only somewhat certain the sister hovering at her side was saying something low to her as the rest of her classmates gathered in a familiar gaggle around Sister Gwen waiting for instructions. 

Abigail winked at her, a habit that always had the tips of Beatrice’s ears heating up despite knowing it was nothing flirtatious, more meant to be an “inside” bit of encouragement between the two of them she would offer when Gwen was giving them some seemingly herculean task. Like she knew Beatrice would crush it. 

Beatrice wished she shared Abigail's confidence in her. 

Jude had been moving slower across the field but she was keeping pace with the larger pack of sisters in the middle. Now she was drinking water so quickly it was spilling over her chin and down her neck. “Slower.” Beatrice cautioned. “You’ll give yourself a stitch.” 

To which Jude nodded and did her best to slow down as she sucked in breaths almost as greedily as she was trying to drink the water. “And you need to drink something.” She nudged Beatrice who smiled sheepishly. Beatrice twisted the lid off, her fingers stiff from the fatigue in her forearms and the icy conditions they had been in for the last couple of hours. She raised the bottle to her lips and merely wet them. She was sure she would throw the water right back up if she did anything more than that. It wasn’t much but it was enough to earn a nod of approval from Jude as she turned her attention back to where Gwen was. 

“Welcome to the trials.” Gwen paused to smile briefly at them. Small puffs of fog made her words visible as she spoke. “You’ve met the first round of Cadre. I expect you to treat our Sisters from the Bamberg Chapter. Sister Lauren—” Gwen motioned to the small sister who seemed to be incharge— “and her team will be treated with the same respect you treat everyone here.” Beatrice couldn’t help but think that was such a needless caveat. Of course they would. Sister Warriors were sister warriors, and no one in Beatrice’s class would dare treat a sister with anything but the highest courtesy. They were all excellent people, and Sisters that Beatrice found herself aspiring to be like as she entered her vows and became a nun. 

“Today will be an evaluation of everything you’ve learned over the past few months. It will carry you well past any limits you’ve set for yourself. Keep going. Lean on your training. Make me proud.” Beatrice caught Sister Gwen’s eye, as she seemed to be speaking directly to her. At least it felt that way. It wasn’t pressure Beatrice really felt her already pounding heart could handle. Not the thought of letting down Gwen, but Shannon too. And Lilith. And Mary. And Mother Superion.  

“We’ve heard a lot of good things about your class.” Sister Lauren paused as she stepped next to Sister Gwen giving her a kind nod. Beatrice was only now noticing her somewhat thick German accent. “But, performance aside—you’re not anything if you can’t take care of your sisters. Buddy carries. Two loops. I don’t care how often you switch. You have one hour.” 

KEEP READING

[moorishflower]

Hello hello moorishflower,

If you ever feel so inclined, would you please tell us a bit more about Cats Eating Bodies from Beautiful Strange And New? I love them and think about them quite a lot, possibly my favorite Sandman-type oc ever, just a delightful concept and also shares the trait of subconscious Eye Stuff from their creator with the Corinthian as an added bonus.

Many thanks!

Hello friend! Of course I can!

In the very beginning, Cats Eating Bodies was a jungle cat. She was fashioned in the shape of the lion and the leopard and the cougar, all the large, prowling night-beasts that humans feared in forest, plains, and jungle. She had a tiger's huge, muscular body, and a lion's golden paws, and a jaguar's head, and the cougar's wailing cry. She didn't need to be any more monstrous than she already was, because humans already feared the natural world, and feared what they couldn't tame.

And then, 10,000 to 12,000 years ago in the Fertile Crescent, a wildcat discovered that, if it hung about a grain silo long enough, and didn't run at the first sign of humans, it could eat as many rats as it wanted.

After humans began to domesticate cats, Cats Eating Bodies was somehow less fierce. She was pretty, now, instead of majestic, and she was soft. So Dream of the Endless gave her a new form to wear: the size of a tiger still, but this time she wore a housecat's familiar face, with a wildcat's unnerving stare. In her mouth were a thousand teeth, all of them needles, and her claws were no longer scythes, but precise daggers with which to flense neat strips of flesh. She took to wearing a collar around her throat, with a little bell on it, and her tail was made to be long and luxurious and beautiful, and the very ends of her fur always red, like she had dragged them through blood.

Ultimately, there was not a lot of creativity needed to make her terrifying. Cats manage that well enough on their own. All Dream of the Endless had needed to do was to give her a form in the first place, and hunting grounds to patrol. Cats did all the rest of the work herself. She's a very simple nightmare; she takes joy in the hunt and the kill, and even if every nightmare ends with her prey waking up, she still gets to enjoy them while they last. She, like her namesake, lives in the moment, and has no interest in past or future. When she isn't hunting, she likes to be warm and safe, and in these modern times she likes to watch the dreams of Snoop Dogg, because she likes the way his voice sounds.

[corinthianism]

i know places | the corinthian

pairing: the corinthian/gn!reader tags: forbidden love, friends to lovers warnings: minor oc death(s)

Contrary to popular belief, Dreams and Nightmares were not mortal enemies. There was no reason for them to be when they were made for the same purpose: to serve humanity and to aid Lord Morpheus, their king, in fulfilling his duties as one of the Endless. What was unheard of, however, were Dreams and Nightmares falling in love. Morpheus believed it to be a hindrance to his creations’ work, so he went to great lengths to prevent it but no matter what he did, love always seemed to slip through the cracks. All of his creations were complex, like humans, and they were reflections of their master. If Morpheus was able to love, so did they… but his ego was too great. He forbade romantic relationships between Dreams and Nightmares unless they wanted to be sent into the Darkness for an unknown amount of time. Some were fortunate enough to be brought back after two years, some five, some a hundred, and others were still there even after a full millennium.

The most notorious of these lovers were previous members of the Major Arcana. Morpheus noticed their absence in the minds of dreamers and was shocked to discover them trying to bargain with Destiny so that they might be able to live in the waking world, permanently. Belleza and Yadju were disintegrated together in front of all the residents of the Dreaming as a warning as to what would happen should Morpheus’ rule be questioned. In the end, he thought he was protecting them from the dangers of love, but a dream without love was no dream at all. 

You were there that day, and so was the Corinthian. 

Dreams and Nightmares weren’t enemies, but that didn’t mean they acted as one unit. After all, they had different things to do. However, the Corinthian just couldn’t stay away. It seemed like you couldn’t either. He was a Major Arcana, and you… well, you were a minor dream. Even if your jobs were completely different, he was still very much like your boss in a way. A boss that loved to flirt with you, get on your nerves, or both.

It was your job to make sure humans saw animals in their dreams. You trained creatures of all sorts, from dogs to dragons, to do what they needed the dreamers’ to see in their mind's eye. You were grateful that Lord Morpheus created you for this purpose, so not once did you ever question his rule. The Corinthian, on the other hand, frequently talked about his doubts without fear of the consequences. You weren’t sure why he came to the stables so often. Someone like him probably had better things to do. Or maybe he didn’t. Either assumption was unsurprising.

“You ever wonder what it would be like not to have to be covered in animal shit all the time?” he asked you one day out of the blue—the horse you were feeding neighed in offense. If you were a horse, you probably would’ve done the same thing.

“Uh, I don’t think so. You ever think about not having eye-teeth?” you retorted, going back to your job. He nodded his head and pursed his lips as if to say touché . “And besides, if you were so worried about the poop then just go somewhere else. I didn’t ask you to come here, y’know.” 

“Ouch, sweetheart. I’ve been here for five minutes and you’re already turning me away?” he placed his hand over his chest.

“That’s five minutes too much around you.” 

Safe to say, you weren’t a stranger to these conversations that might get you imprisoned for treason. You never said anything in agreement anyway and you hoped that that would be enough for you to get away with it. These conversations, or more accurately… rants, from the Corinthian continued for over a century. But nothing would come out of it. You were still you, he was still him. One change did happen and it was in those moments the two of you shared: constant insults turned into affectionate teasing. Playful pushes turned into the brush of your hands against his. Heated staredowns turned into appreciative glances. Scoffs turned into poorly-hidden laughter at inside jokes. 

That century didn’t change either of you, just what you were to each other. And it was terrifying. Belleza was one of your friends, despite the differences in your position. She was an inspiration to you: she was everything a Dream should be and you watched her die along with everybody else in the Dreaming. As traumatic as it was for everyone, you knew Morpheus was not a cruel ruler by any means. You knew he meant well, you just couldn’t understand why he felt the need to ban love in a kingdom of dreams and of hopes. You were lucky to have him as your king compared to most... but his decisions were too extreme. This intensity would put a dent in your loyalty and sometimes, a dent was all you needed to break a whole wall down. You thought about Yadju, the greatest Nightmare Morpheus ever created, and the Corinthian’s predecessor. Yadju was supposed to be the amalgamation of all of humanity’s darkest fears. but he fell in love and it killed him. It killed your friends. Every time you looked at the Corinthian, you can’t help but see their reflections in his shades. Would that be your fate as well? Had you doomed yourself to the Darkness because you chose to follow your hear?

In your little cottage at the edge of the kingdom, you sat by the fireplace. In the Dreaming, residents got everything they could ever need or want. It was a privilege you knew humans didn’t always have.

“But we’re not free to love,” you thought. It was a dangerous game to play in this realm, so you kept your thoughts to yourself.

There was only one other person who thought differently and you knew he had just entered your humble abode. The Corinthian approached you slowly and sat next to you.

“Well, isn’t this comfortable?” he teased. 

You rolled your eyes, “Oh, shut up.”

He laughed and took your hands in his, letting you lean on his shoulder. You sighed deeply and closed your eyes. Moments like these were rare nowadays. Morpheus had been giving you more work recently, and as always, you couldn’t really complain.

“What’re you thinking about, sweetheart?” he asked, humming as he pressed a kiss to your head.

“I just…” you paused. “Do you ever think about what it would be like to be human?”

“All the time. I probably wouldn’t have to wear these damn shades if I was human.”

You sat upright and looked at him, “No, I mean… do you ever think about how much freedom we would have?”

“You know what would happen if we tried to leave,” he frowned. “Morpheus would have us exiled for just escaping to the waking world. Imagine if he found out we’re…”

“We’re what?” 

“If he found out that I love you.”

And there it was: the sweetest, purest admission a Nightmare could ever give. The same admission that just might send you to your death. You slumped against him once more and kissed his cheek. He smiled. As long as you managed to make everything look normal, you would be safe. You were okay as long as you had him.

The year came and went, and with it, so did your hope for a new life with your love. You would continue to tame animals for the world's dreamers, and the Corinthian would continue his work as the wake-up call humanity needed from time to time. One day, he proposed an idea to you so blasphemous that you froze in fear of what Morpheus might do if he even heard of it. As soon as you came to your senses and understood what your lover was trying to do, you could only do your best to stop him from going. Even if you knew you couldn’t.

“I’ll go to the waking world—” “No!” “—And I’ll find us a place, yeah? I’ll find a way to keep us safe. I’ve always been very good at that, haven’t I?”

You tried to shut him up, hands trembling as you gripped his shoulders and looked frantically at your window because you never know if somebody might already be listening.

“ We managed to stay safe by keeping our lips shut and I think you forget we’re made out of the same stuff as his tools! His helmet alone would be able to track us down no matter where we go!” 

“Then I’ll find a way to get rid of it!”

You laughed bitterly. Not only was it dangerous; it was impossible. It just couldn’t be done and knowing the Corinthian, he’d rather die trying than not try at all. You, on the other hand, would rather have him here with you alive instead of trying to escape and inevitably failing. It was stupid to think that you’d have a chance against Dream. You knew your lover knew this too so you wondered why he even considered the possibility. He knew something, then.

“...Why are you so adamant about us leaving? You’re smart enough to know we don’t stand a chance against him.”

“I already went to the waking world,” he admitted quietly, lowering his head.

You felt your eyes go as wide as saucers, “You WHAT?! Is that why he left today? I heard from Merv that Dream left to go find someone, I didn’t think that would be you! Of all people!”

But before you could continue your scolding, you realized one thing: why was he here and not at the palace?

“Why… How are you here?”

“Dream didn’t send me back. He got… I don’t fucking know. It’s like he was being pulled back by something. I came back here to see you. He isn’t around to bother us anymore,” he said, one hand going down to brush against yours resting at your side, the other cupping your cheek. “We can be free, sweetheart. You and I don’t have to keep hiding anymore. I don’t have to be covered in animal shit just to talk to you and you don’t have to watch me chase humans around. I know you want it as much as I do.” 

What you didn’t know then was that he already talked to Roderick Burgess. He instructed the old man to build what would become your creator’s prison for the next century, and all you knew was that your lover got lucky. 

“But… the Dreaming. The work… the animals! Oh my god, what would we even do? I don’t know the first thing about being human,” you panicked. He only chuckled and kissed the spot between your brows. 

“Don’t worry your pretty little head about it, sweetheart. I got you. I always will.” 

He led you outside of the kingdom: to the endless sea of sand that comprised most of Dream’s realm. Your heart was racing. In anticipation? In fear? You weren’t sure. It was an odd feeling to have. Every second outside the gates only made it more intense. The Corinthian, on the other hand, seemed as cool as a cucumber. He donned that grin that first drew your ire, and then your love, and then you knew he would never let you get into harm’s way. He never seemed the type to let go of what was his and boy, were you his.

“Nervous?” he cooed teasingly. You frowned at him but could only sigh in defeat.

“I’ve never been… to the waking world, I mean,” you whispered. “What if… he catches up to us? There aren’t a lot of things in this universe that can contain an Endless.” 

“Then fate is in our favor then, but don’t get me wrong, honey, whatever happens next? That is entirely up to us. I’m not letting some fucking guy, especially not him, take you away from me. No,” he seethed, all while holding you close to him. He separated from you to take a good look at your face. “You, my dear, are gonna get everything you will ever want and need, everything that you’ve ever dreamed— hey, don’t laugh —dreamed of.” 

“All I could ever need is you,” you said softly. “Home is wherever you are.”

As if on cue, sand swirled around you and the last thing you saw was his smile that told you everything he needed you to know.

—

On Earth, life was incredibly fast-paced. So different from everything you’ve ever known. The first few months made you incredibly homesick, but there was no turning back once you received word that the Dreaming started deteriorating in your master’s absence. You couldn’t help but feel as though that was your doing. There was this guilt gnawing at you every second of every day, reminding you of your previous obligations. Even the Corinthian had trouble soothing you when the worst of it came. Perhaps your loyalty to Dream was an inherent thing you’d never be able to overcome. You were glad to have your lover with you; ever-present and ready to whisk you away from your troubles if he couldn’t completely eradicate them. 

Before you knew it, a decade had passed. One of your main concerns was homesickness, but as always, the Corinthian found a way. He gave you everything mortal life had to offer… but the most cherished gift he gave you was your own home in the countryside: surrounded by greenery and a constant gentle breeze. It was your home with him, with pieces of the both of you in one space. It was beautiful. Perhaps too good to be true. 

As if on cue, he was there again. He wrapped you in a warm embrace from behind as he peppered light kisses all over your neck and shoulder, “Hey sweetheart.”

You hummed, “Hi, honey.”

“Whatcha thinkin’ about?”

“Oh, uh,” you cleared your throat. “Nothing much, just the usual, y’know. What to feed the chickens, where to get a-”

“You’re rambling again,” he said matter-of-factly. In one swift move, he turned your body to face his. “Tell me what’s on your mind, baby, maybe I can do something about it.”

“You spoil me.”

He gave you a look and you knew then that you had no choice but to cave in, “It’s Dream.”

“What about him?” he raised a brow, his hold on you loosening just a bit as he sat a little straighter.

“I… I can’t stop thinking about what would happen to me. To us. God knows what happened to him but I just… what if he comes back? If he’s dead, shouldn’t we be dead as well? That would mean he’s alive somewhere!”

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, “Baby, we already talked about this. We’re not dead, yes, but there’s that sleepy sickness going on that’s probably because of him. Why can’t you accept the fact that maybe we can be our own person?”

“Because we never were in the first place! Don’t get me wrong, I want to be one. I want to be one so bad, but every day I wake up and I remember that I’m made of fucking sand!” 

The Corinthian frowned. He enjoyed many things; arguing with you was not of them, especially if it was about that emo twig they call their creator. He let out a deep, deep sigh, and took of his glasses. Even without eyes, you knew he was looking right at you. His hands, rough and calloused from centuries of hunting-killing-repeat, cupped your cheek. It was a gentleness that he would’ve otherwise not have if it wasn’t for you. In the dim light of your living, he wished he could stay in the moment forever to soothe your worries. To knead away the soreness in your muscles. To kiss you until your cheeks hurt from laughing so much.

It was all he could ever want and he certainly didn’t appreciate the fact that the reason you were so stressed in the first place was Morpheus, “Sugar, when have I ever lied to you? When we first came here, I told you we would be safe. That has not changed. I just need you to trust me. I’ve never failed you before, have I?” 

You shook your head, eyes glued to the floor. The Corinthian lifted your chin so that your eyes would meet his, and he smiled at you. All three sets of pearly whites telling you, “we’re gonna be okay.” 

His lips met yours then; it was a tender kiss. Like how two children might just try it out at the playground. It was love in its purest form, so much so that the Corinthian almost thinks he should stop and turn away, in fear of ruining it all. But surely… surely, he must’ve done something right to be here in the first place? Nevertheless, whatever the two of you had was real. Something even Morpheus couldn’t take away. This love was divine and it would be protected for as long as time exists. Nobody was taking this from you or your lover. 

Somewhere in England, a cage has burst.

[eyeless-smiles]

[ rolls directly into your inbox. bats at you like a cat. hey. hey. hey. psst. tell me some of your favourite things about writing cori, and in particular what makes him more fun to write for you than other characters you may have tried (or considered trying) in the past. :3c ]

((Omg omg omg ok I am so down for this!!!))

I will be honest, when I first started watching the Sandman I didn't think anything of Corinthian at first, but the more I watched and learned about his motivations I was hooked.

I haven't been able to pinpoint exactly what makes Corinthian SO damn appealing to me, but right off the top of my head I really enjoy the exploration of autonomy and how much his actions and decisions are guided by what he is and who he wants to be. He is a part of Dream, yet he wants to be separate from him. He wants to be autonomous and considers himself a sole entity, yet blames Dream for his own decisions with the ol' "you made me this way" shtick. He's just a walking contradiction.

I also definitely think the religious trauma is kicking in here and makes me HUNGER to explore these topics because Corinthian is just the perfect vessel to explore a love/hate relationship with God.

I have always been drawn to writing villain characters anyways because I am a horror/gore whore. I think before Corinthian I had only rped a handful of canon characters (Spy from TF2, Yondu Udonta GoTG, Moira from OW)

But I also have two OC's that also heavily feature the creator/creation trope. Those two blogs have existed for almost ten years and I'm still drawn back to them occasionally. (One of them is exceptionally dark it is where I go to commit atrocities <3)

UPDATE: wow I found this fully written in my drafts TWO MONTHS LATER. Please accept this with my utmost apologies I am a fiend for burying shit in my drafts that never see the light of day again 🙃

@nightmarecountry

[ilovewhiteroses]

Do You Want What I Want?

Pairing: The Corinthian x Ryan (OC) Genre: Fluff, smut Warnings: Unprotected sex, cursing Rating: 18+ Note: My dear friend, Catchy @i-like-the-eyes gave me idea for this fic, plus they inspired and named Ryan🥰

Ryan, a young musician went out with his friends, but ended up spending the rest of the night with a handsome, interesting man…  

It was a pleasant evening and the annual summer carnival was taking place in the small town. Lots of people went there, no wonder, because one could spend their time well. Ryan, a young lutenist, went with his friends who were artists themselves. Among them were painters, singers, photographers and illustrators.

As soon as they entered the event, they immediately noticed the stalls with handmade works and homemade delicacies. They went over there and some admired the wonderful wood carvings and decorative objects, while others tasted the drinks and cheeses made by the locals. They began to think about what their next stop should be.

"I know! Let's go drive bumper cars and then eat cotton candy!" exclaimed Leni, the painter, enthusiastically. Ryan and the others agreed and after spending their time there, they went for a carousel ride. The young man enjoyed the evening, he felt as if he had flown back to his childhood.

"So guys, what should we do now?" he asked his friends a bit later. There were so many other things they wanted to try that they decided to split up and everyone would go where they want to and then meet at the entrance when they are done. Ryan quickly found the restroom, which was surprisingly quite cultured, then went back to explore the carnival. He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, checked it and saw a new email. The surprised lutenist sat down on an empty bench to read it.

We'd be honored to have you as our musical guest at the annual Music For The Youth event, where we present kids the beauty of music.

He smiled to himself, since lately he has been getting more and more requests and he was very happy about it. While he was on his phone, he heard a man's voice.

"Hello! Can I sit here?" he asked politely and Ryan looked up. Standing in front of him was a tall blond man wearing slacks and a suit jacket, a stylish contrast to his black t-shirt and jeans combination.

"Um, sure, you can sit down." he answered him. As the man sat down, Ryan quickly put the phone back in his pocket. The man crossed his legs, settled himself, then offered his hand to Ryan.

"My name is Cori." he said as Ryan shook his hand and introduced himself. "Your name is beautiful. I'm glad to meet you. Did you come to the carnival alone?” Cori asked.

"No, I came with my friends, we just split up for a while because everyone wanted to see things and try them." Ryan replied, rubbing the back of his head embarrassedly. He never really liked to communicate with strangers, but at the same time, he didn't want to be a jerk by turning the guy down with some silly nonsense.

"Oh I see." Cori said with a big smile and pushed the sunglasses up his nose with his index finger. "Is there a part you haven't been to yet?"

Ryan found the man's directness strange, he didn't understand why he was so nice to him. What’s the worst that could happen? He had previously taken a few Krav Maga classes, at most if he thinks the situation is suspicious, he uses what he has learned.

"Well, uh, I haven't been to the shooting gallery yet." he replied, then looked at the man's sunglasses, which made him want to slap himself on the forehead. Before Ryan could say something else, Cori jumped up from the bench enthusiastically.

"Then come, let's not waste time!" Ryan also got up from the bench and was thinking that there must be a good reason why Cori is wearing sunglasses even at night.

They arrived at the agreed location and the target shooter told them the rules.

"Okay, gentlemen. You have to shoot with this toy gun, which has sponge bullets. You have to hit these fast-moving wood ducks, but you have to be clever, because only the ones with the number wins. Well, which one of you wants to try his luck?” he asked, rubbing his palms. Cori raised his hand.

"Excuse me for asking, but are you sure about this?" Ryan asked in shock. "Aren't those sunglasses too dark?"

"Don't worry, I can see perfectly, and my other senses are also extremely sophisticated." Cori replied with a laugh.

Okay then, Ryan thought to himself and put his hands in his pockets. Target shooting guy handed Cori the toy gun, then stood aside. Cori stretched out his arm and waited for the numbered winged animals to come, then shot. After a while, he got so into the game that he even stuck out his tongue a little and fired all the bullets. Ryan was very amused by this sight, he thought it was pretty cute. The shooting gallery man showed him and Cori what prizes there were to choose from.

”Is there anything you would like, Ryan?” Cori asked kindly.

The musician started thinking. The selection was not too exciting, especially for an adult, as most of them were designed for children. In the end, Ryan decided on a red toy guitar, because it somewhat reminded him of a lute.

He started to feel more comfortable with Cori, he even went to have hamburgers with him, and found himself forgetting about his friends and what they agreed on. He quickly wrote in the group chat that he was tired and took a taxi home.

"I hope this is not a problem for you." Cori said a little worried.

"Oh, don't worry, it's happened before, they'll understand." Ryan told him, and with that, he silenced his phone. Now he just wanted to focus on Cori.

He found him very fascinating.

"Speaking of going home, would you like to walk home with me? If you’d like, we could have a few drinks, then we will see." he said with a suggestive smile. Seeing this, Ryan gulped, but was excited at the same time.

It was clear what Cori wanted.

"Okay, let's go. How about I leave this guitar here? I don't need it anyway." he told Cori, who shrugged, thinking Ryan does what he wants. As they made their way out, Ryan set the small instrument down by the entrance so a child would take it.

The streets were already dark and only the street lamps were on. Ryan wished he could see more of Cori's face because he liked what he had seen of him so far. As they got closer and closer to his apartment, Ryan's heart began to beat faster. They talked on the way. He found out that Cori is a businessman whose goal is to visit as many places and gain as many experiences as possible. There was also talk of instruments and music and, for some reason, dreams and nightmares, which Ryan didn't know what to think of, but he didn't care. He enjoyed listening to Cori, while thinking how hot his speaking voice was, how beautifully his lips moved when he spoke, when Ryan managed to catch him in the lamplight, how graceful his hand movements were while he was explaining... Ryan suddenly felt so hot as the sexual tension was getting more intense between them. He also started to feel his pants getting tighter...

They got to Cori's apartment and went inside, but he didn't turn on the light, the only source of light was the moon shining through the window. Ryan was looking for the switch when Cori pulled him close in the dark and slowly leaned him against the wall.

"Do you want what I want?" he whispered sultryly in his ear, then kissed his neck, which made Ryan’s knees almost giving out.

Of course he wanted it! Ryan had one-night stands before, but felt that this time would be different...

They began to kiss passionately, then Cori reached down to Ryan's erection and began to gently massage it. Ryan did the same to him while kissing his neck. He wanted the blond man so much that he could barely contain himself. He pulled his top off, Cori did the same, then knelt down in front of Ryan. He unbuttoned his jeans, then pulled them down to his ankles together with his underpants. The musician's dick popped out.

"Fuck, you have a nice cock!" Cori said panting as he began to jerk off Ryan, then took his cock into his mouth. Other times he did it much more sensually and slowly, but this time he was too overcome with desire. He took hold of Ryan's cock at the base with his index finger and thumb, then began to suck it, sometimes licking his balls as well. Ryan enjoyed this all with his eyes closed and ran his hands through Cori's hair. He felt close to explosion, and even though he didn't want to cum yet, he couldn't take it anymore and came, Cori could barely swallow the hot result. He took the spectacular penis out of his mouth and looked up at Ryan.

"Damn, baby, that was a lot!" he said appreciatively.

"Fuck, that was hot!" Ryan said panting, gasping for air. If the blow job was this good, how fucking amazing could sex itself be, he thought to himself. Cori stood up and pulled off his pants. Since Ryan was a bit shorter than him, he had to figure something out.

"Get on all fours!" he instructed the young man, who did so. Cori pulled his ass towards him, then grabbed his cock and slapped it against Ryan’s entrance. Before inserting it, he spit into his palm and smeared it over his cock, then slowly inserted himself into his partner. Cori let Ryan adjust to his size. Just like with the blowjob, he fucked fast, he didn't want to be gentle and slow. He wanted wild and crazy sex and he got it. Ryan's knees were pressing against the hard floor, but he didn't care. His ass slammed against Cori's thighs as he reached down to his own cock and began to masturbate. He felt that he was close again, but this time he didn't want to orgasm as quickly as before.

"Wait!" he said to Cori, who paused for a moment. "I want to ride you." Without further ado, Cori pulled out of him and laid on his back, Ryan got up from his position and placed himself on top, letting Cori’s cock back into himself. He raised his knees, put his arms behind him and continued to fuck himself on Cori's cock, who grabbed Ryan's cock and started jerking it. The apartment was loud with their lustful moans, both of them were sweating as if they had run a marathon. Minutes later Ryan was cumming on Cori's belly, and Cori was cumming into Ryan….

Ryan woke up in his yesterday night partner's bed. Cori wasn't there, so he went to look for him in the kitchen and the living room, but he was nowhere to be found. Ryan quickly got dressed and left the apartment. Although he regrets not being able to say goodbye to the handsome, blond man, he was glad that they had a crazy, sexy and fun night together.

Tags: @merry-andrews,  @demi321win-chester

@thefloatingpickle, @delicateteenagerunaway

@sadnessanninthedark, @e-dubbc11

@rayisheree, @tampire

@itsthevelvetline, @moomiman42069

@evenmyhivemindisempty, @a-h-li

@enkelimoonstone, @i-like-the-eyes

[diabelskoga]

ROLEPLAY HISTORY !

The rules are simple! Post characters you’d like to roleplay as, have roleplayed as, and might bring back. Then tag ten people to do the same (if you can’t think of ten, just write down however many you can and tag that number of people). Please repost, don’t reblog!

CURRENT MUSE/S :

Sanji

Alkas ( DURGE OC BLOG )

Technically almost all my muses on my multi

WANT TO WRITE :

Uhh-- nothing is coming to my mind right now.

HAVE WRITTEN :

This is just coming from my multi muse

Vash the Stampede

Milly Thompson

Kalecgos

Albert Wesker

Nico Robin

Kaku

Miles Edgeworth

Cho Hakkai

And so much more on @melpcmene

WOULD WRITE AGAIN :

The Corinthian 'cos I miss him

I can't remember who else I've written

tagged by: @gunnvash tagging: @ who sees this!

[practically-an-x-man]

For the character thing. Warren Worthington, Viktor from Arcane, and... the Corinthian

Ooh okay!

Send Me A Character and I'll Give You....

Warren

1: sexuality headcanon - oh he's very much bisexual. I'm surprised they haven't made it canon yet tbh 2: otp - canon-wise, him and Psylocke. Though is it wrong to say my own OC too? 3: brotp - I like the idea of him and Kurt making up after the fight and eventually getting to be really good friends 4: notp - I see people shipping him with Bobby and I don't really get it? No harm to those shippers just not my cup of tea 5: first headcanon that pops into my head - hates hospitals and gets severe medical anxiety after what his father put him through in his childhood. Thankfully his healing factor is usually strong enough to avoid it though. 6: favorite line from this character - "Sometimes I feel unimportant, like all I do is catch those that fall. But I look like an angel. People call me an angel. And though I'm not taking names, I'm the one who is most visually saving lives. I'm doing alright, and dammit, I'm an X-Man" 7: one way in which I relate to this character - only one? uhhhhh how about all the rampant unexplained medical issues that first sprung up at age 12 and had me locking myself in the bathroom? among a lot of other things 8: thing that gives me second hand embarrassment about this character - there's one moment in the comics where he's kinda misogynistic towards Jean? It's from one of the very first X-Men runs from the 60s 9: cinnamon roll or problematic fave? - both, and I mean that genuinely. Un-brainwashed he's a bit more of a cinammon roll, but then there's everything in the Apocalypse arc...

Viktor (fair warning I haven't watched Arcane in a while)

1: sexuality headcanon - gay, possibly ace or demi 2: otp - him and Jayce I guess? I don't really have one tbh 3: brotp - Don't really have one of these either. I guess it could be fun to see him and Jinx make friends, since they're both kinda inventors and that could be interesting 4: notp - none? Look After is literally the only Arcane fic I read right now, so I don't really know who he gets shipped with to begin with 5: first headcanon that pops into my head - uhhh everyone has chronic lung problems from the pollution in the Undercity but it affects him worse because he's prone to asthma/bronchitis/other lung conditions 6: favorite line from this character - "We lost ourselves. Lost our dream. In the pursuit of great, we failed to do good." 7: one way in which I relate to this character - Joint problems babeyyy 8: thing that gives me second hand embarrassment about this character - none? Been a while since I've seen the show, don't remember any specific moments 9: cinnamon roll or problematic fave? - Cinnamon roll

Corinthian

1: sexuality headcanon - not a headcanon but Neil Gaiman's confirmed he's pan and I like that 2: otp - again, do my OCs count? Nothing compares to Prometheus 3: brotp - don't really have one, but I want him and Hob to dish about Morpheus being a little bitch (/j) 4: notp - Corintheus. I get that it's popular but Dream's technically his creator and that just... gets weird to me. 5: first headcanon that pops into my head - he's got a soft spot for kids and genuinely doesn't want to hurt/scare them, it's the adults he gets fed up with 6: favorite line from this character - "You ever notice that people only ever use your name when you're in trouble? 'Get over here, Jed!'" (it's not the most impactful line of his but I think the delivery is really fun) 7: one way in which I relate to this character - on a simpler note... general Southern-ness I guess? But also the themes of being neglected/seen as inherently flawed by a parent (which... may be a repeat trend for me, just look at Warren lmao) 8: thing that gives me second hand embarrassment about this character - In the comics, when he gets remade the first time and is first relearning about the Dreaming and what happened. It's a great scene overall, there's just something about the way Dream and Matthew talk to him that feels a little weird to me. 9: cinnamon roll or problematic fave? - Problematic fave, no doubt