#what do you mean i have to create content my damn self

[lelelego]

waiting and waiting

[alacetor-the-duckies-deer]

Me, aro/ace: God i wish there was more aro/ace content of Alastor with MY specific headcannon

T̴̨̡̮͇̳̠͓̺͇̟͌̽̌͊h̸̢͇̯̘̣̳͉̼̭̙̜̫̭̩̉̈̈́ͅę̶̛̝͍̙̙̬̝̘̞̰̂̂̈́͊͑̇̄̓̈́̅̃̕ͅm̶̢̻̽ͅ: yeah God it's so fucking disgusting to ship Alastor with ANYONE it's so acephobic, it's ERASURE ITS insulting to the community when canon is RIGHT THERE EXISTING-

Me: actually you know what. I wanna see that deer bent over Lucifer's office desk ass UP tail OUT getting all that adacity fucked outta him good. I want him quivering, I want him shaking. I want Lucifer's dick the only thing keeping him from sliding off the desk. Fuck you.

I mean, I DO want to see my brand of aro/ace content [Example], QPT duckideer for the win, but the dichotomy of man and all that, I'm CREATING it my damn self like an ADULT. And, you know, because we have to keep saying it I guess. Ace people can fuck. We're not barbie dolls.

[kanmom51]

Jikook - what we see is what we get

When we get to see it.

Not seeing it doesn't mean it's not there though.

Was sitting today BTS songs just playing in the background while I'm working on my post. All this shit just happening around us, around JK and JM (yes, JM is part of it, he's also affected by it all), and The truth untold comes up.

This version:

One of, if not their best performance imo. The emotion just pouring out of them.

This song. It kills me every single time. Brings me to tears every single time. JM turned away from JK singing "and I still want you" in every performance. Well, other than their last 3 in Seoul, changed by them, performed by them, ending facing each other JM singing "but I still want you". Defiant.

All about the need to wear that mask to hide your true self for fear you might not be loved for who you truly are, that you might be seen as ugly, a monster. And the two of them, changing the staging, turning to each other, looking into each other's eyes, while changing the "and" to "but I still want you"... do people understand this? The enormity of this moment?

And then this song comes up, this performance:

This was on day 2, while on day 3 we had this:

Omg, my YT logarithm is trying to kill me today.

And got me thinking about this moment we got on day 3 as well.

This love, people, this chemistry, us not seeing it as often for the lack of BTS ot7 content doesn't mean is gone. It's very much still there. We just aren't as lucky to be able to see them in that one frame as often or even at all. But when we do, there is no denying it. Even if it's for the shortest of moments.

We saw it in 2020 (have people forgot memories 2020 for god sake?)

We saw it in 2021

So much more, so little image allowance... But you can find it all in my masterlist.

We saw it throughout 2022 in their Seoul and LV PTD concerts.

And in JITB even if briefly,

And in Busan and Run BTS episodes.

And we even got a little touch of it in 2023, when there was no way of keeping them out of the frame, like in Jhope's enlistment BTB, D-Day in Seoul and even when not being in one frame, in those lives we got to enjoy when the one joined the other in their comments and even without the other even making that kind of appearance.

Letter, goddamnit.

Oh and then we had JM literally flying across the world to be with JK for his Solo debut (if only GMA concert wasn't cancelled, damn it), and them dipping off for their 4 day private trip in CT.

It's sad how short people's memories are. Really. I am reading all sorts of fanfictions being put forward as "this is what happened with Jikook over the years", stating facts that are not facts, creating non existent drama, because people love the drama.

This is a loving couple in a long term relationship. You know, that boring kind. The stable, loving, filled with respect and no drama. The one where one supports their partner when they are struggling. One where just being with each other is fulfilling (cough JK coming to JM's room in LA just to be with him in the same room for hours cough).

Funny how people are talking about them breaking up 2020-21 during the pandemic when JK literally had a slip of the tongue spilling the beans they live together, they are one household, in Run BTS episode 142 they were each gifted a knife. JK all proud and piping up "we got 2"...

JM just sitting there all quiet, smirk on his face.

Stories about breakups. Stories about sexually experimenting but no actual emotional commitment. All while ignoring the constants. Those things that are just there, all the time, whenever we do get to see them:

That electrical chemistry between those two.

The way they look at each other constant over the years.

The way they talk to each other constant over the years.

The way they touch each other constant over the years.

The way they talk about each other.

The way their interactions are so different from the others or their own with the others.

The way the others are around them, their reaction to Jikook.

All still there!!!

*PS:

I wrote this post yesterday before JK's Radiohead appearance and his TikTok post-delete.

I guess now would be a good time to repeat what the wise @ourwinterspring (yes, I'm mentioning you again, lol) once said (well a couple of days ago, that is):

Rumors are created by haters

accepted by fools

and spread by idiots

[kingofbodyrolls]

39,5°C (Fever) (m) | pjm

Thank you to everybody who follows, either for my own fics or my recs - it's much appreciated and means so much to me 🥹 So, for my 100th follower milestone, I give you this; I hope you like it 💜

Pairing: Jimin x reader (female, “Y/N”)

Genre/AU: Established relationship, non idol!au, pwp, smut, fluff if you squint

Rating: mature/explicit/R18

Word count: 6,2K

Summary: When you get sick you want three things; rest all day, eat your comfort food and have as many orgasms as you can.

Disclaimer: I do not own BTS or know them personally and this work of fiction is purely fictional and for entertainment purposes only. The actions and personalities described in the story do not reflect those of BTS— it’s just fiction. Also, if you would kindly read the tags/warnings before reading, that would be lovely: and if you don’t like whatever is described in the tags, just hit return and find something else to read. Thank you 🌸

Warnings/tags: Explicit smut in the form of, masturbation (female), fingering, nipple sucking/play, unprotected penetration (they are in an established relationship, but please use protection irl), some cock warming, a lot of orgasms, fucking while sick, OC is so fucking needy and desperate and Jimin just wants to please her.

This is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact.

Main masterlist. Cross-posted to Ao3.

Morning light filtered through the curtains, painting the room in soft hues as you slowly roused from sleep. 

Blinking away the remnants of dreams, you stretched languidly, only to realize that the warmth next to you, Jimin, was absent. 

Confusion furrowed your brow, a dull ache throbbing at your temples. It was as if your mind was wading through a fog, struggling to piece together the events leading up to this moment.

A damp sensation beneath you snapped your senses awake. 

Panic fluttered in your chest as you registered the wetness on the bed. 

Your skin prickled with discomfort, a blend of clammy sweat and shivers that chased each other up and down your spine. Hot and cold sensations mingled, creating a disorienting dance across your flesh. Your body trembled and you felt a surge of arousal run to your core, a telltale sign of a fever. 

A hand to your forehead confirmed your suspicions - heat radiated from your skin, the feverish touch undeniable. The realization sent a sinking feeling through you, an unwelcome interruption to your routine. 

You contemplated checking your temperature, not just to provide a concrete reason for your absence from work, but also to validate the intensity of what you were experiencing.

With a resigned sigh, you fumbled for the thermometer, its cool surface a stark contrast to your fevered skin. 

As you watched the numbers climb, anxiety held its breath alongside you. 39,5 degrees Celsius glared back, a glaring testament to your body’s turmoil. ‘Yikes’ barely covers the magnitude of this fever, the word echoing like an alarm in your mind.

Reluctantly, you reached for your phone, fingers dancing over the screen to dial your workplace. 

Explaining your condition to your boss felt like admitting defeat, you were rarely sick, a palpable sensation of vulnerability washing over you. The conversation passed in a blur, your voice sounding distant even in your own ears as you negotiated the details of your sick leave.

Once the call ended, you were left with the weight of the day ahead - or rather, the weight of what wouldn’t be. You really love your damn office job. Resignation settled in as you acknowledged that rest was your sole agenda. 

This was no mere inconvenience; it was a mandate from your own body, an uncompromising insistence on self-care.

Your thoughts drift through a dense fog, each one a weighty presence that seems to slow time itself. 

Amidst this mental haze, a singular desire emerges, commanding your attention like a beacon in the darkness; to get off.

When you get sick, you’re out of commission, but Jimin possesses remarkable resilience, bouncing back from ailments with an almost enviable speed. He might slow his pace a tad, yet he’s soon up and running again, his vigor only temporarily dimmed. 

However, your own journey through illness is an entirely different narrative. When illness casts its shadow upon you, it’s as if the world grinds to a halt - a relentless fog that blankets your thoughts and body. 

You only want three things really; rest all day, eat your comfort food and have as many orgasms as you can.

It’s a craving that rises like a tempest, demanding to be acknowledged. 

The desire for intimacy, for the warmth and connection that only your boyfriend can provide, becomes a beacon in the haze of your illness. It’s a need that fluctuates in intensity, an ebb and flow that mirrors the unpredictable nature of your symptoms. 

In a daze, you squeeze your thighs together while dirty fantasies run through your mind.

Determinedly, you set your sights on the first craving: a day of uninterrupted rest. 

As the world outside continues its bustling rhythm, you cocoon yourself in a cocoon of blankets, the soft embrace of your bed a sanctuary from the demands of the day. A season of your cherished TV show flickers on the screen before you, its familiar characters and storylines a comforting companion in this isolated respite. 

Yet, even the most captivating narrative can’t entirely distract from the persistent itch of restlessness. As episodes blur into one another, you find your mind wandering, the confinement of your surroundings reflecting the confines of your own body. 

The hours stretch, each minute an elastic band tugging at your patience.

The promise of comfort food beckons like a siren’s call, and soon, the aromatic allure of pizza fills the room. 

You indulge in its cheesy embrace, the combination of flavors a temporary reprieve from both your physical discomfort and the monotony of your confinement. The first bite is a symphony of sensations - crisp crust giving way to a burst of savory satisfaction, a moment of bliss that lingers on your taste buds. But even indulgence has its limits. 

As the pizza slices dwindle and the ice cream follows suit, the novelty wanes, leaving behind a subtle undertone of longing. You try navigating the vast expanse of social media, but it yields little in the way of fulfillment, each swipe a fleeting encounter with curated lives that only serve to amplify the quiet void within.

Your energy reserves are far too depleted to muster the focus required for anything more substantial.

In time, you discover yourself reclined upon the bed’s embrace, solitary in Jimin’s absence, your eyes are gently shut, a willing surrender to the world’s demands, while the low sensual R&B beats of your beloved ‘dirty hoe’ Spotify playlist weave a cocoon around your senses, cradling you in a symphony of horny melodies on an endless loop. 

You rub your thighs together and get lost in the bliss of the feeling. You’ve got nothing to do. Might as well do yourself.

Your fingers glaze the top of your panties, digging deeper until you reach the spot just over your clit. 

Rubbing circles on your clothed clit, you spread your legs and throw your head back into the bed, already feeling the beginning of an arousal. You can’t help the sweet noises that escape your mouth, as you roll your hips in search of more friction. 

You press harder on your clit, imagining it’s Jimin’s hands instead of yours, knowing that he would be able to make you climax in a matter of minutes. 

Pinching your clit, you let out a high pitched moan as you feel the knot in your stomach forming. 

Images of Jimin flash before your eyes, him kissing you deliciously, fucking you like it was the last time.

Beads of sweat gather along the precipice of your hairline, a glistening testament to the fevered symphony playing out within. 

Each breath you draw is a ragged melody, a reminder of the battle your body wages against the searing heat that courses through you. You set a fast pace, rubbing mindlessly, as you pant for air. 

Almost there, you can feel it coming. 

In frustration, you pinch your clit again and come undone with a scream of Jimin’s name. 

Your body thrashes around the bed, as you come down from your climax. 

Your thoughts wade through a dizzying haze, an intricate labyrinth where clarity is but a fleeting visitor. Meanwhile, your body becomes a canvas of discomfort, a sticky and clammy landscape painted by the relentless brushstrokes of sweat. 

You register an uncomfortable wetness between your legs, and discard your soaked panties to the floor.

Your body remains a furnace, its warmth radiating through every fiber as you continue to draw breath in ragged gasps. Seeking relief, you shift onto your stomach, a desperate attempt to find a position that might offer some respite. 

Your hand gropes beneath the pillow, finding the cool touch of your phone. Fingers trembling slightly, you navigate to Instagram in pursuit of distraction, a temporary escape from the confines of your condition.

Yet, the respite is fleeting, evaporating like mist in the face of a relentless sun. Your desires surge once more, a hunger that refuses to be quelled. The allure of the digital world fades in comparison to the voracious craving that commands your attention, rendering your attempts at diversion feeble and futile.

You surrender to the tempest within, rolling onto your back as your hands traverse the landscape of your fevered body, fingers tracing the contours of your clammy skin. 

They land on your already pebbled nipples, and you give them a hard tug, moaning and rolling your hips mindlessly. 

Jimin's cotton shirt adheres to your skin like a second layer, a tactile reminder of the stickiness that has become an unwelcome companion. 

With a sudden resolve, you sit up, a surge of urgency propelling you as you shed the shirt in a swift motion, the fabric slipping away like the bonds of discomfort being cast aside.

In a matter of seconds, your hands return to your breast, cupping them like Jimin usually does. 

Your fingers run over your nipples again, and you feel a tingle run down your spine. As you tug and pinch your nipples, you imagine it’s Jimin doing it. 

The way he would lick your perked buds, occasionally giving them a light bite has your walls clenching around nothing. 

You moan, thinking about the pleasure Jimin usually delivers to you with his plush and wet tongue. 

One of your hands leaves your breast to travel down to your throbbing naked pussy. 

Spreading your legs, you find your clit and give it a few rubs. 

Your fingers glide easily, as your clit is covered in your earlier orgasm. Your fingers travel down to your folds, opening yourself up more. 

Sticking one of your fingers into your warm cunt is easy with the insane amount of arousal pooled there. 

You groan in pleasure, as you stick another finger into your clenching hole. 

Rolling your hips, you begin to fuck yourself as your other hand is pinching and tugging a nipple. 

Once more, a hazy fog blankets your thoughts, veiling your mental landscape in a disorienting mist. 

In this moment, your deepest wish unfurls - a longing for Jimin’s presence, his soothing touch, the steady rhythm of his breath and the unfaltering warmth of his embrace to tether you amidst the turbulence of your body’s rebellion. 

The feeble attempt you make to alleviate your distress pales in comparison to the soothing magic that Jimin's touch possesses. It's a stark reminder of the chasm between your efforts and his unparalleled comfort. 

Nonetheless, in this interim of absence, your makeshift remedy will have to suffice, bridging the gap between your yearning for relief and the eventual embrace of his return.

You think about Jimin fucking you with his thick cock, stretching your pussy deliciously. 

Hitting your g-spot, and thrusting into you with fervor, while his balls hit your folds. The imagination, a force as potent as it is relentless, takes hold of you with unyielding fervor, reducing the barriers between reality and desire to mere dust. 

In its wake, you sense the foundations of your resolve begin to erode, like cliffs succumbing to the relentless assault of waves. 

Squelching sounds fill the room, as you finger yourself frantically, searching for another release. 

A palpable tension simmers, coiling like a slumbering tempest just beneath the fragile surface of your composure and when the image of Jimin fucking you gets too much, you moan loudly as another orgasm coats your walls. 

Your chest rises and falls in desperate rhythms, each breath a struggle as you labor to coax your body into a state of surrender.

A gnawing sense of insufficiency takes root, an undeniable truth that settles like an ache in the core of your being. 

Compelled to fill this void, you reach for your laptop, your fingers dancing across the keyboard to unearth a video - a cherished artifact of you and Jimin. 

As the footage unfolds before you, you stick your fingers into your already drenched pussy again. 

As the symphony of sounds spills forth, a captivating crescendo that weaves through the air, your gaze becomes ensnared by the screen's luminous embrace, you fuck yourself again, while you rub your clit with your other hand.

“Ah, Y/N, you’re so tight! You’re taking me so well.” Jimin's voice pours forth, a mellifluous cascade that saturates the room, its dulcet tones mingling with the very air you breathe, a sweet intoxication that leaves you hovering on the edge of delirium, rolling your eyes while you search for yet another release. 

You add another finger into your throbbing pussy as the screen shows Jimin fucking you from behind. 

A moan leaves your lips, mixing with squelching sounds from your pussy and the obscene sounds from the laptop.

“This pussy was made for me, ah.” video Jimin says followed with a slap to your ass. 

Your pussy clenches around your fingers. Your clit is throbbing with your fast rubbing on it and you insert another finger into your cunt, finally feeling a small stretch. 

You feel your orgasm approaching rapidly, with the images of your home made porn playing before your hooded eyes unraveling you.

“Fuck! I’m coming!” and then you’re orgasming to the sound and visual of Jimin releasing inside your warm and spent pussy. 

Your body throbs with a weary cadence, each pulse echoing the exhaustion that courses through you, leaving you feeling spent, both physically and emotionally. 

The discomfort intensifies, a relentless reminder of your sticky, sweat-slicked state that clings to you like an unwelcome second skin, refusing to relent. 

You draw in ragged breaths, your lungs yearning for air as you hastily halt the video's playback, the sudden cessation of sound echoing the turbulence within your chest.

Tired, you envelop yourself in the gentle glow of the screen, as you dive into another episode of your treasured TV series. You lay in your bed, naked, with only the covers draping your legs. 

The door’s soft creak heralds Jimin’s return, his presence a soothing balm to the quietude that has wrapped itself around you. 

As his eyes fall upon your prone form nestled within the sheets, his gaze deepens with understanding - silent communication that transcends words. 

Without a syllable spoken, he knows about your illness.

A gentle smile dances at the corners of his lips, a mixture of concern and affection that paints his features. His voice, warm and tender, breaks the silence, the words like a soft caress against your weary senses. 

“How many, baby?” 

The question hangs in the air, laden with a delicate balance of worry and steadfast promise that he’s here to shoulder the burden of your discomfort alongside you.

With the mere entrance of Jimin's presence, a subtle electric current courses down the length of your spine, a tingling sensation that dances between the realms of anticipation and recognition, as you rub your thighs together and bite your lip, “Three.”

A gentle chuckle escapes from his plush lips, a melodic sound that unfurls like a whisper of warmth, as he strides toward the bed and eases down beside you, his presence a soothing balm to your discomfort.

“You know it’s a vital part of my self-care ritual whenever fever pays me a visit,” you protest, your lips pursing in a playful pout that hints at a mixture of defiance and endearing vulnerability.

“Yeah, I know about your fever horniness,” his laughter erupts with a resonant force, a vibrant symphony that reverberates through his entire being, yet his approach is marked by a smirk that dances across his lips, an alluring blend of amusement and intention.

“What do you need, baby?” 

His finger traces a tantalizing path over the sensitive expanse of your ass and thighs, each touch akin to a lightning bolt of sensation that ignites a perilous shiver, sending a cascade of exhilaration down the length of your spine. In its wake, a fresh wave of desire surges, pooling on your pussy.

A gulp tightens your throat, a visible testament to the sudden intensity of the moment, while your breath catches in your chest, a gasp that hangs in the charged air like an unspoken invitation, “Your dick and your tongue.”

“Hmmm, I don’t know,” a playful smirk graces his lips, a mischievous expression that hints at a secret understanding, as his touch traces a tantalizing path along the contours of your waist as he feels his dick throb with want.

“You started without me,” he utters the words in a mock pout, his tone a blend of teasing and longing, as his fingers dip down to your pussy with deliberate intent, trailing a path that ignites a symphony of sensations. 

You raise your hips in search of more of his touch.

“I’m sorry. But I couldn’t wait…” A frustrated whimper escapes your lips, a raw sound that encapsulates the intensity of your desires and the ache for more. 

You just want to get off again.

“I know, baby. You probably did so good by yourself, huh?” 

His gaze drinks in the contours of your naked form, an appreciative hunger that's palpable, causing goosebumps to rise like a symphony across the landscape of your skin.

“Not as good as when you touch me. I need your touch, Jimin.” 

In a voice etched with ragged urgency, you plead, the words a raw testament to the overwhelming desire that courses through you, while your lustful eyes blink rapidly, revealing the depth of your need.

He seizes a generous handful of your ass, an electrifying touch that sends shockwaves of pleasure reverberating through your being. In response, you groan, your very essence melting under the mastery of his hands, reduced to pliable putty that he molds with deliberate expertise.

You open your legs invitingly, showing him your glistening pussy, “Won’t you come taste me?”

A teasing flick of his tongue moistens his lips, a gesture loaded with an unspoken promise, as he inches closer to you, his presence a tantalizing magnetism that sends anticipation crackling through the air. 

His form hovers over yours, a suspended moment pregnant with the weight of desire and the thrill of what's to come.

“Since you asked so nicely.” 

In a voice dipped in seductive tones, he murmurs the words, a sultry invitation that hangs in the charged space between you, as he positions himself on his knees. 

The fabric of his shirt yields to his skilled fingers, sliding off his form in a fluid motion that reveals the sculpted contours of his body, each movement a declaration of intent. His bare chest emerges into view, an arresting sight that captures your gaze and holds it captive, a canvas painted with the contours of his sculpted form. 

Your eyes trace the lines of his delicious abs, his ‘Nevermind’ tattoo, a visual feast that leaves you with an insatiable hunger, and your fingers, guided by a magnetic pull, begin to explore his torso with a reverent touch.

He leans in with a calculated grace, his intent clear in the intensity of his gaze, as both of his hands find the curves of your breasts, his palms cupping them with a touch that conveys possession and longing. 

A moan of pleasure escapes your lips, a raw sound that encapsulates the exquisite sensation that courses through you, as his hands remain a source of warmth on your fevered form, a stark contrast that heightens the sensory journey. 

An involuntary surge of sensation propels your body, causing your back to arch with a fervent response, an unspoken invitation for more of his touch, as he begins to roll your nipples. 

He leans his head down, giving a nipple a quick lick before he captures it in his warm mouth. He sucks lightly at first, while he pinches your other nipple.

The melodic cadence of your sounds forms an intoxicating symphony, an improvised composition that resonates in the charged air, while a surge of arousal courses through you, electrifying your senses and heightening the fervor of the moment.

One of Jimin's hands embarks on an exploratory journey down the landscape of your body, a purposeful exploration that leads to your pussy, where his touch transforms into an unyielding grasp, squeezing your clit with a deliberate force that ignites a symphony of pleasure-pain.

You release a crescendo of uninhibited sounds, each one a testament to the exquisite sensitivity that courses through you, a maelstrom of sensations amplified by the presence of your already three orgasms.

His fingers, a skillful symphony of touch, bestow a few tantalizing rubs to your clit, a prelude to the main act that follows. 

With deliberate intent, he slides a finger into the depths of your wet pussy, each movement a rapturous dance that sends shockwaves of pleasure through your every nerve ending.

“So wet,” a chuckle, laced with both amusement and desire, escapes his lips, the room now painted with an intimate soundscape as the squelching echoes through the air. 

His single finger, a masterful conductor of sensations, explores the depths of your being, each thrust a declaration of intent that creates a symphony of pleasure only the two of you share.

He returns to his skilled ministrations sucking on one of your nipples, a sensation that unfurls like a velvet caress, while his other hand continues its purposeful exploration, working to fuck you open with a deliberate determination that merges pleasure with a heady sense of anticipation.

A surge of urgency courses through you, compelling your hips to roll with a fervent rhythm, an instinctive dance that strives to align with his thrust, seeking a nexus where desire and connection intertwine in a symphony of shared pleasure.

He skillfully introduces a second finger into the equation, his touch an intricate dance that navigates the canvas of your pussy with purposeful intent. 

His quest becomes a search for the elusive spot that ignites a cascade of sensations, a treasure trove of pleasure concealed within the intricate pathways of your body.

Your breaths escape in ragged bursts, a symphony of urgency that fills the air, each inhalation a desperate attempt to quench the growing fire within. 

As your chest heaves, you huff for air, the oxygen a lifeline that barely keeps pace with the tumultuous pace of your desires, all while a knot of anticipation tightens in the pit of your stomach, a tangible reminder of the impending climax.

A third finger joins the symphony of sensation, a deliberate intrusion that causes your pussy to clench around him, an involuntary reaction that amplifies the intensity of the moment. 

The palpable tightness he encounters tells him that you're teetering on the precipice of release, a knowledge that fuels his own desire.

With the dexterity born of desire, his free hand embarks on an exploratory journey, seeking out your other breast with a determined touch. 

His fingers dance with a skilled grace, deftly rolling its nipple, each movement a calculated rhythm that weaves an intoxicating tapestry of sensations, a tactile duet that resonates through your being.

“It’s so good, Jimin!” a gasp, unfiltered and primal, escapes your lips, the sound a testament to the exquisite pleasure that courses through you, as you endeavor to arch your back, an instinctual response that seeks to press your body into the electrifying path of his touch.

A low, reverberating hum escapes his lips, a resonant vibration that sends ripples of pleasure through your breast, the intimate connection between his mouth and your body forging a sensory bridge that defies words. 

Meanwhile, his fingers continue their masterful dance, striking your elusive spot with a relentless rhythm that sets your senses ablaze with each deliberate touch.

You feel it coursing through your body like a surge of electric intensity, each nerve ending awakening in a symphony of sensation. 

Your toes curl involuntarily, a physical manifestation of the overwhelming pleasure that radiates from within. 

Your hands seize Jimin's hips with a fervent grip, an anchor in the tempest of ecstasy as you succumb to the cascade of release, a moan escaping your lips like a melody, a reverberating chord that sounds eerily like his name.

You pant, your breath a delirious cadence that echoes the crescendo of sensations that have washed over you. 

Your body basks in the radiant afterglow of a fourth orgasm, a testament to the heights of pleasure scaled throughout the day, each peak and valley etched into your memory like an intricate map of desire.

Jimin's gaze rests upon you, his eyes hooded with a potent blend of desire and satisfaction, a witness to the tableau of your body's unraveling beneath the skilled ministrations of his hands and mouth. 

In this intimate exchange, unspoken understanding flows between you, a language woven from shared pleasure and the unbreakable bond you share. 

The depth of his affection knows no bounds, a love that transcends the ordinary and propels him to the edges of devotion. For you, he's willing to traverse any distance, cross any threshold, and brave any challenge. 

His heart beats in harmony with yours, a melody of adoration that echoes through the moments you share, an unwavering testament to the lengths he'll go to ensure your happiness and well-being.

He rises onto his knees with an irresistible allure, shedding the confines of his pants and boxers in a fluid motion that unveils his already hardened dick. 

The air seems to crackle with anticipation, the atmosphere thickening as his form becomes a portrait of primal need and unabashed vulnerability.

Your tongue darts out, an instinctual gesture that moistens your lips in a silent anticipation that hangs in the charged space between you, a silent agreement forged by desire. 

“Gawd. It’s so beautiful.” 

You say, the words a sultry whisper that hangs in the air like a secret promise, a declaration of intent that sets the stage for what's to come. 

Your hand reaches out, fingers wrapping around his cock with a teasing touch, each stroke a deliberate dance that fuels the fire of desire between you.

Jimin's chuckle, a featherlight sound that dances through the charged atmosphere, becomes an auditory caress that sends shivers down your spine. 

His form hovers over you, a poised predator basking in the thrill of the chase, the air practically crackling with the intensity of his presence.

"What do you crave now, baby?" he murmurs in a voice saturated with a potent blend of desire and longing, a low timbre that wraps around the words like a silken caress, igniting a spark of anticipation in the air.

“I want to be ravished,” your hips engage in a rhythmic dance, a deliberate movement that aligns with the symphony of sensations cascading through you, while the telltale sensation of sweat prickling down your forehead adds a tactile layer to the sensory landscape, a physical manifestation of the fevered desire coursing through your veins.

“I want to cream your dick,” you breathe, the exhalation a fragile bridge between reality and reverie, as the haze of desire blankets your thoughts in a seductive shroud. 

In response, a hiss escapes Jimin's lips, a sound that teeters on the edge of restraint, a symphony of shared yearning that hangs heavy in the charged air.

“I want you to come in my pussy.” You tease, the words a playful invitation that resonates with the promise of shared pleasure, your voice a delicate melody that dances through the charged atmosphere. 

Your hands find purchase on his thighs, fingers squeezing with an artful pressure that ignites a symphony of sensation, a tactile duet that harmonizes with the unspoken desires that course between you.

Jimin's hiss echoes once more, a sound that reverberates like a whispered plea amidst the charged tension, as if his very being is ensnared within a cloud of desire and longing. 

His dick, a pulsating ache that demands attention, throbs with an insistent rhythm, a relentless reminder of the friction and release that his body craves, a symphony of need that courses through his veins.

With a firm resolve that belies the intensity of his desire, he seizes his dick in a purposeful grip, aligning it with your pussy. 

The air seems to hold its breath, a suspended moment pregnant with anticipation, the magnetic pull between your bodies poised to culminate in an explosion of shared ecstasy.

Before he gives in to the tempest of desire that surges between you, a primal force that demands satisfaction, he seizes a pillow with a thoughtfulness that speaks volumes. 

With a gentle nudge, he situates it beneath your head, a gesture that adds a layer of comfort to the impending intimacy, a reminder that amidst the flames of passion, he's attuned to your every need.

Then, in a languid dance that seems to stretch time itself, he eases into you with a deliberate slowness, his cock head parting your folds in a teasing, torturous symphony of sensation. The exquisite friction becomes a dance of pleasure and anticipation, a measured cadence that ignites every nerve ending along the way, as he navigates the delicate balance between fervor and restraint.

His dick glides into you effortlessly, aided by the slickness that envelops him, a liquid promise of pleasure that makes every inch of his entry a journey of shared ecstasy. 

As he becomes one with you, your walls embrace him with a tantalizing grip, a response that reflects the profound connection between your bodies, a fusion of desire and intimacy that transcends mere physicality.

“Ah, you’re still so tight,” 

He releases a breath he didn't even realize he was holding, a sound that escapes in a mixture of relief and surrender, as he reaches the depths of your being, a tangible joining that renders him fully immersed in the euphoria of the moment.

You savor the overwhelming fullness that finally envelops you, a sensation that satiates the craving that has persisted throughout the day. 

It's the culmination of a desire that's been building, being filled to the brim with the thickness of Jimin's dick, a union that ignites a shiver coursing down your spine, electrifying every nerve ending. As the moment unfolds, he initiates a slow retreat, a movement that draws you both through a symphony of sensations, a dance that echoes the intimacy of your connection.

He surges forward once more, a determined movement that drives him to the very hilt, his relentless desire mirrored in each of his swift thrusts. 

With a masterful touch, he discovers your hidden spot in mere moments, a revelation that sends shockwaves of pleasure through you, the intensity of the sensation causing your vision to blur as the world momentarily fades, overtaken by the overwhelming cascade of ecstasy.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he pants, the rhythm of his breath a synchrony with the fervent pace at which he fucks you, his grip on your hips an anchor that thethers you to the reality of the moment. 

His dick plunges into you with an unyielding force, a declaration of possession that melds raw passion with an unspoken promise of unity. 

He artfully guides one of your legs up, positioning it against his torso in a deliberate display of intimacy, your foot finding purchase against his neck in a sensual image. 

With this angle, he plunges into you with a newfound depth, each thrust a revelation of pleasure that leaves you breathless, the arrangement of your bodies a testament to the choreography of desire that unfolds between you.

“Ah! Jimin!” you release a breathless moan, a symphony of pleasure and vulnerability that dances on the edge of bliss, a melody woven from the rawest depths of your desire.

“I’m so fucking close,” you pant with each measured breath, caught in the intoxicating rhythm of his thrusts, a symphony of desire that leaves you gasping for air between each electrifying connection.

One of his hands embarks on a deliberate exploration, seeking out your swollen clit with an intent that radiates through his touch. The glide of his thumb becomes a source of intoxicating sensation, igniting a cascade of pleasure that courses through your body.

“Ah!” a breathless cry escapes your lips, the sound a mixture of surprise and ecstasy as the sensations wash over you, while your body responds with an instinctual arch, a graceful curve that seeks to amplify the pleasure within the constraints of the position. 

“Fuck!” the word bursts forth, nearly a scream but instead a fervent exclamation, a testament to the overwhelming pleasure that courses through you. 

Simultaneously, Jimin's fingers continue their skilled dance, maintaining a tantalizing rhythm on your clit, while his dick delivers deep and forceful thrusts that threaten to unravel your senses entirely. 

With a primal scream that carries his name on its wings, your release squirts forth in a torrent, an explosion of sensation that engulfs his dick and fingers. 

The world around you dissolves into a white-hot haze, your vision momentarily obliterated by the intensity of the moment, as you pant in a frantic rhythm, each breath a lifeline that stitches you back to the reality of the room. 

The culmination of pleasure leaves you suspended in a euphoric liminality, every nerve ending aflame with the afterglow of ecstasy.

“Fuck!” Jimin's hiss reverberates in the charged air, a testament to the exquisite sensation that courses through him as your walls clamp around him, an embrace so tight that it borders on suffocating intensity. 

As the waves of your orgasm surge through you, a tempest of sensation that engulfs your being, his thrusts mirror the tumultuous rhythm of your release. 

Each movement becomes a study in controlled chaos, his own desire reaching a crescendo as he hurtles towards his own climax. 

“Ah! I’m coming, babe!” he pants with a rhythm that mirrors the frenzy of his desire, each breath a tangible testament to the passion that courses through him. 

With a final, hard thrust, he stills within you, his essence flooding your depths in a torrent of warm cum that paints your walls with an intimate declaration of shared intimacy. 

He surges forward, a final thrust that extends the boundaries of pleasure, his movements a testament to his need to savor every last fragment of the climax he rides out. 

The rhythm becomes a reflection of his own ecstasy, each thrust a stroke of intimacy that weaves a tapestry of shared release between your bodies, a culmination that leaves you both suspended in the aftermath of pleasure.

Despite the sheen of sweat that adorns your skin and the fever that courses through your veins, an urgent need propels you to draw him close, your arms enveloping his form in an embrace that defies the constraints of physical discomfort. 

Your body radiates heat, a testament to the fever's grip, yet the desire to feel his heartbeat against your own is a force that eclipses all else. 

“It’s hardly fair,” you remark with a playful huff, a mixture of exasperation and laughter tingling your words, “that you’re not even breaking a sweat.” 

The words carry a lightness that dances amidst the weight of your fevered state, the exchange a testament to the shared intimacy that allows for such candid moments even in the midst of vulnerability.

“I guess I’ve got better stamina, sweetheart,” he chuckles, the sound a gentle ripple that lingers in the air, even as his dick goes soft within the warmth of your pussy. 

With a tenderness that belies the intensity that has passed between you, he seals the moment with a sweet kiss pressed to your lips, a lingering connection that speaks of the intimacy shared and the unbreakable bond that defines your connection.

A blend of his cum and your own arousal trickles from your heated core, a physical reminder of the fervent exchange that has unfolded between you. 

He withdraws from you completely, a deliberate movement that creates a sudden void, a palpable absence that contrasts with the intensity of moments prior. 

Slumping down beside you, his breaths come in ragged pants, each exhalation a testament to the exertion of shared pleasure. 

The space between your bodies becomes a canvas that captures the echoes of your intimate dance, an image of vulnerability and release that lingers in the air like a whisper.

A sense of emptiness washes over you, an aftermath of the profound connection that has left a void in its wake. Your lips form a subtle pout, a silent plea that rests in the curve of your expression, a wordless request for the closeness and intimacy that you yearn to preserve. 

“Oh, I know that look,” he chuckles softly, the sound a warm caress that mingles with the air, as his hand sweeps through his blond hair. 

The knowing amusement in his eyes speaks of an unspoken understanding between you, a connection forged through countless shared moments, a familiarity that transcends words.

Beside him, you shift restlessly, a subtle squirm that speaks volumes about the growing hunger within you. 

Your thighs press together with a desperate urgency, a physical manifestation of the insatiable desire that has rekindled within your core. 

The air seems to crackle with anticipation, the atmosphere electrified by the magnetic pull between your bodies, a force that threatens to engulf you both once again in the flames of shared longing.

“Just give me an hour or two, then we can go again,” he chuckles softly, the sound a tender reassurance that carries within it a promise of more to come. 

His lips nuzzle against the delicate curve of your neck, a gesture that's both affectionate and possessive, the fervor of his kisses an echo of the passion that simmers between you. The intensity of his touch leaves a mark, a phantom sensation that lingers even after his lips have moved away, a tangible reminder of the connection that binds you together.

Author’s note: I get incredibly horny when I have a fever, so this idea popped into my head 😇 My husband calls it “fever horny” 🤣 I’m so sorry, am I the only who’s like this? 🫢

[archiveikemen]

『 Villain's Night 』 Story Event: Premium END

Jude Jazza

This is a fan-made translation solely for entertainment purposes with no guaranteed perfection. I do not own any of the original content. Please support CYBIRD by buying their stories and playing their games. Reblogs appreciated.

❥･• Warnings and FAQ

Jude: — Ready to be ridiculed?

Jude stared down at me like a predator tormenting its prey before capturing it.

Jude: Oh, right… what’s this?

Kate: …!

Jude pulled out the accessory given to me by Alfons.

I immediately gasped for air the moment he loosened his grip around my throat.

Kate: I needed a costume to enter this place, so Alfons…

Jude: That guy…? And you accepted it from him despite knowing damn well that it is?

Kate: … uh

The ears aside, the tail was likely something that was meant for… sexual purposes.

I was at a loss for words, and Jude’s amethyst eyes twitched in disdain.

Jude: You brought such an obscene item to a place like this.

Jude: Even a child would know that you’re in no position to complain in this situation, no matter what happens to you.

Kate: I’m sorry. I really didn't mean to break the promise…

Kate: But you made me promise you that because you wanted to protect me, isn't it…?!

Jude: …

Kate: And… while I was still hesitating, William commanded me to “do as my desires tell me to tonight”...

Kate: My body followed you here on its own…

Jude: … Hah.

Jude: Having strange toys shoved in you and being made to do as someone commands?

Jude: I’m astonished to hear “when push comes to shove, bite and run away”.

Jude was making perfect sense, but I myself didn't expect things to turn out this way.

I felt too frustrated to even create any more excuses, and I was biting my lips to hold back the tears that threatened to fall.

Jude: Put this on.

Kate: What…

(This… this tail…?)

Jude: I’ll teach you just how much of an airhead you are.

My face started burning, the item I was hesitant to touch presented to me.

(I don't know if it's even actually supposed to be used for the purpose I’m imagining…)

But I was certain that Alfons said that it was supposed to go — “inside me”.

Jude: Don’t know where to insert it? Were you not told?

Jude sneered at me as if I were some fool.

Jude: You can continue standing there if you want me to go over and teach you how to put it in. Give that to me.

Kate: I’ll do it…! I’ll do it myself…

I slipped the elastic part at the base of the tail underneath the waistband of my skirt and let it be held there.

Kate: Is this… okay?

Jude: …

Kate: Uh…

Jude shoved me against the wall with my back facing him and yanked the tail off.

Jude: Are you trying to play a fool with me right now? You seriously want me to put it in for you?

It was the first time he spoke to me in such a cold and threatening manner.

My cheek stung like it had been hurt as it was pressed against the wall.

(It’s the first time… he’s actually hurting me.)

That version of Jude would never allow me to bite him back.

Even if I sobbed and apologised profusely for breaking our promise and following him with this sort of thing on me.

(I’ll be ridiculed by Jude until he’s satisfied.)

His actions, tone, facial expressions… everything about him made it clear that he wasn't being his usual self.

While overflowing with shame, I hiked up my skirt and slipped the base of the tail past my panties.

I tightly squeezed my eyes shut, took a deep breath, and buried the tip between my legs.

(Uu…)

I had no idea who would create such a thing.

(W-What do I do with… this long tail part…?)

After hesitating for a while, I decided to turn it towards my buttocks and let the tail escape from the waistband of my panties.

Jude: … You saw the women being sold at the gambling house.

Jude, who had been watching me the whole time, grabbed the end of the tail sticking out of my skirt.

Kate: …? Yes… I saw them.

My skirt rose as he lifted the tail, making me nervous that he would see my panties.

(Don't raise it any higher…)

I desperately kept my eyes on the wall in front of me and prayed hard in my anxious heart.

Jude: Did you want to end up like them? Is that why you brought this here?

Kate: That’s… that’s not true…!

Jude: You’ll be treated like a slave with this toy, and you won’t be able to cum.

Kate: Ah—!

He roughly pulled the tail, causing the tip to be pulled out of my body.

I felt no pleasure at all when I was putting it in, but a sweet numbing sensation ran through my body the instant he pulled it out and my body started getting hot.

(Wh… wha…)

Jude: Put it back in.

Kate: !? N… No…

Jude: You think you’re in a position to refuse? Funny.

Jude: You’ll do as I tell you to.

Being looked down on and ordered to do this sort of thing should’ve made me feel frustrated, and yet…

I reached my hand down and when I pushed the base of the tail into me again, the spot was wetter than before.

Kate: Haa…

I let out a sigh, and a mocking laugh came from behind me.

Kate: Ahh…!

The tail was pulled out once again.

This time, it felt more pleasurable than before.

Kate: P-Please don’t pull it out anymore…

Jude: If you don't like it then you should've done better at sticking it in.

I turned around and glared at him for those unreasonable words.

Jude: Don’t glare at me. Put it in again, you dullard.

Kate: No… not again…

A wet noise was heard, tears slowly welled up in my eyes.

Jude: Ah… you poor thing. Going through all this over a broken promise.

Jude: And yet… weren’t you commanded to “do as you desire”? If you truly hated this, you would’ve ran away.

Kate: …!

Jude: Not only did you not run away, you’re even being so obedient.

Jude: You’re into this kind of thing, aren’t you?

Kate: Hnngh- ah…!?

He pushed his knee in between my legs from behind.

My body twitched, as I was only expecting to feel him pull the tail.

Jude: Hah… you're masochistic beyond saving.

The voice filled with a sadistic pleasure felt hotter than usual, the mix of pleasure and frustration I was feeling also made me feel like I was about to burst any moment.

Kate: Because of you…

Jude: Ah?

Kate: I got turned on because… you're being cruel towards me.

I only said that as a way to sort of go against him. However—

Jude: … You’ve got some guts.

Jude: You’re asking me to be more cruel. Is that what you desire?

(Ah…)

I felt a shiver in the pit of my stomach when I heard his low and hot voice in my ear, and at that very moment—

Kate: —!? ah…!?

I felt a sharp sensation run down my spine, and a numb feeling shot through my body like a spark.

Kate: ah, … haa…nngh!

Jude: … What do you think you’re doing, cumming without permission? You filthy woman.

Kate: Ah, aahhh…!

The tail was pulled again, but this time it was too tight to be pulled out.

(N-No way… no… why—?)

I desperately clung to the wall, half panicking. It was as if my body weren't mine.

The feeling, too extreme to be called “pleasure”, gradually faded away and I collapsed onto the floor.

Jude laughed as he tossed the tail into a pool of blood.

Jude: I wonder how I’ll make you cry the next time.

Jude’s looked down at me with his amethyst eyes entirely devoid of any warmth or emotions.

(Anything beyond this— is a no.)

(Something in me will break.)

I wondered if the reason why I couldn’t stand up for myself or go against him was because — deep down, I secretly desired it.

This man will break me.

Jude: … “Follow your desire”. So you won’t be running away.

Jude walked closer to me.

Jude: Oh well, too late. I won’t let you escape me now.

That moment was the first time I saw for myself that Jude's white shirt was dyed a dark crimson red colour with blood.

(... Ah.)

While on the verge of losing my last remaining shred of sanity, I remembered that it was my truest desires that brought me here.

Kate: My question from just now… please answer me.

Jude: … Ah?

Kate: Are you… injured anywhere?

Jude: …

Kate: The blood splattered all over you… is not yours… right?

Jude fell silent for a moment.

Jude: Tch… *sigh*... damn it…

He let out a long and deep sigh to suppress his frustration, and crouched down in front of me.

My body flinched like it was a reflex.

Jude then took my hand and placed it on his body.

Jude: Two stab wounds.

Kate: Wha…

Feeling his blood on my fingertips made me uneasy.

Jude: My major blood vessels are unharmed. I’ll just have that quack doctor give me a few stitches.

Kate: … Let's get back to the castle right now and have you patched up.

Jude: You…

Jude: You’re seriously a stupid woman.

Jude: Just keep your mouth shut if you don't want to be silenced by strangulation.

Jude turned away after saying that, his face remaining emotionless.

… It looked like he was trying hard to suppress the evil and merciless impulses he had just a few moments ago.

The other people in the gambling house seemed to have sensed that something was amiss when they heard the Organiser’s screams, not a single soul remained in the venue.

Jude tossed a key he stole from the Organiser’s dead body at the cage where several trembling women were locked up, and then he left the gambling house.

...

Kate: Is it really okay with you to leave without the money…?

Jude: No way in hell that place has that much money in there.

Jude: I’ll make use of all the information that the bastard spilled, and get the money from all his bank accounts and hidden vaults.

I didn’t know how to face Jude after all that’s happened.

I kept my head lowered, unable to look at him.

…

— Until we reached the stairwell leading to the castle’s basement.

(All I’ve been thinking about is that his wounds have to be treated as soon as possible…)

Kate: The effects of Roger’s curse are also stronger tonight, right…?

Jude: What, you think I might be killed by a “treacherous” hunter while he’s treating me?

Kate: … I mean, I don’t think he’d do that, but…

(Victor said that tonight is dangerous even to the cursed people.)

Kate: I’ll wait for you here, so that I can call for help if anything happens.

I finally looked up at Jude's face.

Kate: Because… you have a promise to keep, don't you?

Kate: It’ll be hard to do that if you die.

Jude: Tch… I don’t know who you heard that from, but keep your nose out of my business.

The moon was still shining brightly outside the window.

On that Halloween night, Crown’s castle looked much darker because of the dazzling moonlight.

Although Jude appeared to be normal at first glance—

It felt as though there was a cold and sharp cruel knife hidden behind those eyes, ready to pierce through me any moment.

My body shuddered once more.

Jude: — You can go ahead and wait if you want to see even more painful things.

Kate: …

Jude: If you’re still here when I come back, I’ll keep you company out of respect for your bravery.

Jude: … And just so you know, I’m not going to stop tormenting you until tomorrow morning. No matter how much you scream and cry.

He then made his way down to the basement.

The 13th Fairy, cruel and arrogant.

(If I ignore his warning and reach my hand to the spinning wheel — what kind of fate awaits me?)

Will I be pricked by the merciless needle and put into a deep sleep — or will I be met with an inescapable darkness?

I took a breath filled with both fear and anticipation, a confusing mix of feelings. My body, “true to my desires”, was unable to move a single step from that spot.

[come-on-shitty-boys]

// Welcome to Kink K. Ink. inked 01 //

*The nature of this series may be not be appropriate for all readers. Content warnings include: vulgarity, heavy swearing, and implications of adult relations.  Due to these themes, this series may not be suitable for readers under the age of 16.  Reader discretion is advised.*

prev << 01 >> next

“Tsukishima’s here.”

“Send him on back, Akaashi!”  With a snap of his gloves and swivel of his stool, Kuroo Tetsurou turned to face his last client of the day.  “Let’s get this sleeve finished, Tsukki dude.”

By now, Kuroo had gotten used to the unamused look that settled upon his client’s features every time that ridiculous nickname was used, but all the same, Tsukishima sat himself down in the leather seats just like he had done countless times before, rolling up the sleeve of his t-shirt to give his high school friend full access to his shoulder.  

“You know the drill by now.  We’re going to wipe it down, put the stencil on, you can check placement and design, and then we’ll get started, cool?”  There isn’t even a moment for the young man to answer before the cool wipe is passed over his shoulder and the stencil to complete the full look is placed onto the newly clean area.  Tsukki turned his body to look in the mirror at the foot of the chair, offering a slight nod of approval before sitting back.  “This should finish it all out and really pull together the rest of the sleeve,” Kuroo states, letting the hum of the tattoo machine fill the room as his foot eases down on the pedal.  

It seemed like just yesterday he was picking up a machine for the very first time.  But now, the weight of the machine and its steady vibration had just become a part of him.  Day in and day out, Kuroo Tetsurou did nothing but create the most incredible art pieces, punching ink directly into the skin, watching as his own creation stumbled into existence at his very own fingertips.  And at only 27, massive success as a tattoo artist hidden under his belt, he was able to open the doors to a shop of his very own, nothing but a handful of friends and a love for his art to push him forward.   

“Hey, Kuroo!” 

“I’m busy!”

“Dude, it’ll be quick, I promise!”

Kuroo leaned away from Tsukishima’s arm, easing his foot off the pedal, letting the hum fade.  He lifted his head and nearly fell off of his stool from the surprise.  “Dude, what the actual fuck.”

Kuroo had never really regretted having his best friend work alongside him in the shop.  He would get free piercings or jewelry in exchange for regular touch-ups. But it was moments like these where the tattoo artist had serious questions for his past self.  Bokuto Koutarou stood before him, a needle stuck through the septum cartilage of his nose as if it were the most natural thing in the world.  

“What do you mean ‘what the fuck.’  I have a question.”

“Why is there a needle in your nose!”

“I was piercing it, duh.”  His friend looked at him with confused eyes as if the needle and his title of body piercer really should’ve been telling enough.  But, rather than continuing with what he had to say, Bokuto turned the chair on the other side of Tsukishima around to seat himself backwards, arms leaning against the back of the chair.  “What’s good, Tsukki dude! I didn’t know you were coming in today! When are you gonna let me pierce those ears, huh?” He teased, reaching his hand out to lightly flick Tsukishima’s earlobe.

“You are not going anywhere near me with a needle.”

“Oh, come on! I’m good! You can ask Kuroo. Bro, aren’t I a good piercer?”

Kuroo nodded at Tsukishima, slowly turning his machine back on to return to his work.  “He is pretty good. Helps that Akaashi always orders quality jewelry so it heals better.  If you really wanted to, Bokuto could do your ears right now.  I mean, you are going to be here for a while.”

“I am not letting Bokuto pierce my ears.  Especially when he has a needle up his own damn nose.”

Bokuto wiggled his nose a little as if he had completely forgotten about the needle all together.  “Easy fix.  ‘Kaashi!  Will you bring me that ring I put in the autoclave?” 

Akaashi’s heavy sigh could be heard from the front of the shop as he slid his chair away from the counter to bring Bokuto what he had asked for. He pushed the curtain to the side, placing the tiny septum ring into Bokuto’s hand. “Remember to get rid of that needle properly,” he chided, eyeing the piercer with uncertainty.  

“That was one time!”

“Yeah and we got fined for it.”

“We?! I distinctly remember that coming out of my paycheck!”

“Which comes out of my profits,” Kuroo added, shaking his head as he moved the machine over Tsukishima’s skin.  “You’re going to be the reason we get shut down, bro.”

“Then we’ll just open a new shop!  Easy, bro.” Bokuto reached across to sock Kuroo in the shoulder, sending a jolt through the artist’s body that only dragged an ugly line over the face of the portrait, right where the cherry red lips would’ve gone.  

Kuroo slowly raised his head to stare at his friend through narrowed eyes, the shadows cast across his face from his hair only adding an extra layer of intimidation.  “I’m going to beat your ass.”

Bokuto’s body stilled, fingers coming to a halt just as he was twisting the last bead onto his nose ring.  Wide eyes darted from the tattoo artist and back to his reflection in the mirror.  There’s a pointed look from cat like eyes as the hum of a tattoo machine comes to a stop.  Before Bokuto even had the chance to make his escape, the machine had been placed gingerly on the table and the quiet peel of latex gloves leaving Kuroo’s hands was the only noise to this ominous soundtrack.  

“Akaashi. . . Akaashi, help me,” Bokuto whispered, slowly getting up from his seat, eyeing his high school setter with pleading eyes. 

An all too familiar teasing smirk settled onto his tired face as he turned away.  “Don’t break anything,” Akaashi stated simply, rounding the corner back towards the front of the shop.  

“Akaashi!” 

“Akaashi can’t help you now, you little bitch.”  And as quickly as his words ended, Kuroo was leaping over Tsukki in hot pursuit of his very own almost-perfect weapon of mass destruction.  

Bokuto’s chair clattered to the ground in a desperate effort to keep Kuroo’s long legs at bay for a few extra seconds that could be essential for escape. But he simply hopped over the new obstacle, fingers grasping at the soft cotton of the piercer’s t-shirt, but a quick twist had Kuroo’s hand slipping without firm purchase on anything.  

“Get back here, you absolute cow!”

“Hey! Just because you’re mad that you don’t have an absolute dump truck of an ass,” Bokuto pauses, sending a loud smack to his butt, wiggling it in Kuroo’s direction, “doesn’t mean that you get to be mean about it.”  

“What? Did I hurt your poor little feelings?”

Bokuto laid a hand over his heart, golden eyes pouting at his friend.  “You know what, yeah, you kinda did, bro.”

Kuroo’s shoulders drooped and the intensity in his eyes disappeared, softening as he took tedious steps in Bokuto’s direction.  “Bro, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it. I shouldn’t take my insecurities out on you like that.”

“It’s okay, bro. I forgive you.”

“Bring it in, bro?” Kuroo held open his arms.  His true bro nodded solemnly, opening his own arms to engage in the manly exchange of friendship, a bro hug to end all bro hugs, heavy slaps to the back that concluded the concerto of shouts and pounding footsteps against the tile floor.  “It really is too bad, bro.”

“What is, bro?”

“That you fell right into my trap!” 

Bokuto’s frantic shrieking as he tried to wiggle out of the headlock that he had been forced into pierced the air and it would’ve had the desired effect on an untrained ear, but Kuroo knew.  He had trained and prepared over many years to be unphased by the absolute pterodactyl screeches that Bokuto was capable of producing.  

“You fucked up my tattoo, you piece of shit,” Kuroo hissed, rubbing the knuckles of his free hand against Bokuto’s scalp, only making the piercer writhe in his grasp even more, pleas and apologies dripping from his tongue. 

“Please! Please, I’m sorry! Just let me go,” he begged. “I’ll buy your lunch!”

“You owe me a lot more lunches than just one!”

“Okay, okay! I’ll buy your lunch for the rest of the week!”

It really was as simple as that. The promise of food was enough for Kuroo’s arm to release its hold around Bokuto. “You’re lucky that I’m so kind.”

“Yeah, yeah.  You’re so gracious,” Bokuto muttered, staring at his reflection in an effort to fix his hair that had been displaced from Kuroo’s ruthless assault on his head.  

Kuroo released a hefty sigh as he sat back down on his stool, staring at the now mess of a tattoo.  “Listen, man. I’m going to need a bit to figure out how to work Bokuto’s fine design skills into this, so just sit back and chill for a bit while I get some sketches going, okay?  I don’t know, maybe Akaashi will let you do one of his sudoku puzzles.  Go get some lunch, take a nap, beat Bokuto’s ass, I don’t really care.  But, you’re going to have to give me a bit, cool?”

“You really should put a door to this room instead of just a curtain.  You could keep a lot of pests out,” Tsukishima grumbles, sitting forward in the chair to lean his elbows on his knees.

Bokuto quickly turns around to give one of his not-at-all-terrifying glares, adding a loud, “Hey!  I am not a pest!”

The blond snickered in response, a twisted smirk present on his lips.  “Never said you were. But, now that you mention it, a door with a lock might be better.”

“Tsukki!  Aren’t we supposed to be friends?”

“I don’t remember us being friends. I come to get tattoos, not hang out with you.”

“Yeah, so that’s why you sat around until we closed last time? To get tattoos? Nice try, Tsukki dude.  You know you love us.”

“I’m going to get a coffee.”  Tsukishima shakes his head, fending off the laughter and high-fives from the other two, securing their win in his lack of an objection.  

“Bring me back a black coffee,” Akaashi’s voice calls from where he was sat at the front counter, his eyes never leaving his current puzzle.  

Kuroo’s laugh fills the shop.  “You’ve had like three cups already.  Shouldn’t you drink, I don’t know, water?”

“There’s water in coffee.”

“Akaashi, I’m pretty sure that doesn’t count.”

“You’re bitching an awful lot today. I think you’re dehydrated. Maybe you should drink some water.  Tsukishima, bring Kuroo back an ice water, will you?”

“Akaashi!”

“Make it two. He’s really dehydrated.”

“Two waters and a black coffee. Okay,” Tsukishima mutters, typing out the list on his phone.  “I’ll be back.” There wasn’t even time for Bokuto to add in his request for a hot chocolate or for Kuroo to object to the order that was placed for him because Tsukishima was already leaving, the little silver bell jingling above the door being the only noticeable sign of his departure.

And the time should’ve passed normally.  Everyone had busied themselves with their own work.  Akaashi placed orders for new jewelry, more inks, new needles and gloves, everything that possibly could’ve been needed.  Bokuto’s next appointment for the day had come in, the quiet sounds of his voice as he soothed his client’s nerves resonating through the shop.  

“We’re going to do three deep breaths, okay?  You’ll feel a little pinch on the third and some pressure as I put the jewelry in.  Ready?  One . . .”

It was the jingle of the bell, the signal that should have signaled Tsukishima’s return, that pulled heads away from tasks and it was Akaashi’s steady, “Welcome to Kink.  How can I help you?” that had Kuroo’s head snapping away from his sketchbook.

“Stop calling it Kink! You know it’s K dot Ink, you bastard!” 

There was a murmur of a voice that was unrecognizable before Akaashi spoke up again.  “I’m sorry.  He’s busy right now preparing work for another client.  Can I take a message?  I’ll pass it along to him once he’s free.  Excuse me-  Excuse me!  You can’t go back there without an appointment!  Bokuto!”

Akaashi really thought that Bokuto’s large stature coming to block your path, still gloved up from his current client, would’ve deterred you, but you simply shouldered past him, a white-knuckled grip on a small black binder.  You stopped in front of him, the tattoo artist whose work you had admired on Instagram, Twitter, Facebook.  The one who drove you to want to pick up the trade yourself.  The one who was known for turning potential apprentices away at the door without so much as humoring them with a glance at their portfolio.  

It was the binder slamming down on his table, sending pens scattering across the floor that finally forced those amber eyes up in your direction, unamusement painted over his features.  

“And who the fuck are you?”

“Y/N. I’m your new apprentice.”

{taglist: @boosyboo9206 // please send an ask or a dm to be added for future updates}

[cressthebest]

Crimson Rivers thoughts pt. 5

chapter 9:

1. OMG DID REMUS FORGET TO GO BACK TO HIS CELL WAIT HOLY SHIT THIS ISNT GONNA BE GOOD

2. oh good wait, remus left and came back

3. sirius’ first thought is to brush his teeth to kiss sirius 😭😭 he’s so me fr. i wouldn’t let my ex kiss me unless they brushed their teeth first. or had a mint. im so sensitive to smells

4. “He used to build things. Create things. And now he's lucky if he doesn't destroy what's already formed.” JESUS FUCK. THATS LITERALLY SO SAD WTF

5. 😭😭😭 sirius is literally amidst gay panic beyond your wildest comprehension and remus is just like ✨☺️😏🥱🩷🏳️‍🌈 “touch me”

BABES

6. “Remus hums. "Imagine how I feel. No one's touched me without causing me pain in five years."” NOOOO BABY

7. god, wolfstar deserves everything. the best wolfstar content i find is always in a fic that is centered on another ship. i could literally survive off wolfstar alone- no water, no food, no air

8. wolfstar calling each other beautiful>>>>>>>

9. 😬 what did sirius jsut say. i must be going crazy. cause there’s no way he just said he needed to brush his teeth

10. wolfstar deserves the world universe

11. reg is no longer a pathetic teen with a crush, he’s a pathetic adult with a crush

12. reg being grumpy even in his sleep <33333

13. james having a pathetic crush on reg while cuddling together is top tier

14. there really needs to be an emoji to accurately show the face i just made. it probably looks similar to this- 😀😟 what. there’s no way reg is about to tease james, just to get his old 14 year old self off

15. 😀😀 girl what is he doing. i-

16. how he became freinds with barty is so crimson rivers canon, i can’t even. like, i KNOW that it’s canon. but it’s also canon that bizzarestars was right about. no author mistakes in that piece

17. damn, reg is actually gonna go at it. i don’t know how james is gonna survive this and make it to the actual arena.

18. “James says his name like it's the only word that has meaning. His voice is rough, and Regulus' name is sloppy and desperate in his mouth, like a hail mary or a form of salvation.” CHRIST. I SAID I DIDNT KNOW HOW JAMES WOULD SURVIVE THIS, BUT HOW THE HELL DID REG SURVIVE THIS??

19. “Barty is a good lover, there's no denying that—but he'll be damned if James isn't just better.” 😟 shocked. omg. who would have guessed this would be reggie’s thoughts

20. “"Because you might die today," Regulus tells him bluntly, shrugging one shoulder as he stands up. "Consider it a parting gift. Now, get out."”

😧

they just fucked, and all reg can do is be like “yeah yeah, now get out horny bitch” no fucking way i just read that right i-

bitch that’s foul

21. “Regulus is a conundrum, honestly.” yes. that’s the word i’d use to describe him.

22. james: don’t tell sirius that reg and i just fucked. also james: “he’s in the shower”

bitch if you could be any more obvious

23. “Remus Lupin. If there's one good thing to come out of all this, it's him.” YES YES YES ABSOLUTELY! REMUS IS THE GOOD IN THIS

24. “”James, I am so grateful to know you, and so sorry that I had to. Every name that I call is a name I wish I never learned. Yours—you—will remain etched into my heart forever."” BITCH I CANT CRY OVER THIS- MY EYE MAKEUP LOOKS TOO GOOD TODAY TO CRY

25. “"I'll see you again soon, Regulus."” BITCH WTF THAT HURTS EVEN MORE THAN JAMES’ GOODBYE

26. maybe it’s been too long since i’ve read the books, BUT this fic seems to capture the absolute tragedy and horrors of it before it even starts even more

27. christ, not reg saying the “i don’t want to go” that hurts. like holy fuck. he’s still just a scared child. don’t put him in that arena

28. god, the way the death of james feels like sirius dying too. and sirius deciding that once james is dead, sirius will be too

how the hell is this people’s comfort fic???

29. not sirius having a lapse of memory and losing his memory of his last moments with james. that shit hurts

30. fabian <3333

31. 😧 wait fabian is dead. they just shot him. holy shit

32. gideon <3333

33. wait gideon is dead too.

y’all. i just-

this whole chapter was a fucking rollercoaster.

[ch3rr13zk1n]

Hello! *pulls a dumbass idea out of my ass from last night*

It was a bit of an excuse to draw my favorite character as a girlboss but uh basically uhhhhhhhhh

gosh even if its mostly a text post i don't wanna embarrass myself

Uhhhh

ill just paste an explanation of what shorts wars is just in case one silly goober that doesn't know shorts wars accidentally finds this post

Shorts wars is a arg made by a bunch of dudes that make shorts and was created because of the clone accounts ( get it?? ) that steal their content. Basically when it started there were different bunch of QR codes that popped up on their shorts and when our scanned them they took you to a video where a guy named The Boss in a unpleasant gradient says that if they don't quit making shorts and rotting people's brains then they will get replaced. While a few listened, The rest didn't. And the other stuff happened blah blah blah. Anyways i also gotta say one of the creators was a guy named Danno and uh he makes shorts (obviously i mean this is fucking shorts wars what do you expect??) and he has a mascot character named Riggy who is a blue rabbit with red shorts, green eyes and a very interesting kill count.

and Preston/Clone Riggy is a clone of Riggy (obviously)

anyways time to bring out the other explanation

Why the fuck are they a girl here

well uh when i thought more about what Preston wants and thinks it sorta gave me the vibes of "possibly transgender" idk why it got that way but i sorta stuck to it as a bit of a headcanon

like idk man he's stuck in a body that looks like the guy he despises cmon man (ALSO THE DAMN NAME CHANGE!!)

of course, I have to note for the sake of not getting canceled by a twitter user that i don't view trans people as evil people. It just happened to be that i sorta headcanoned Preston as transgender because it felt that way to me

though what the fuck do i even know about trans people I'm not even trans

Also theres some deep very complex lore revealed in season 2 go watch a Datchia short or smth

ok cool anyways here's an explanation of the au

Ahem

Prrston feels like he doesn't matter n betrays the boss, After that he becomes the new uh boss or smth of the company

Preston also self reflects and realizes "Wait fuck maybe i don't wanna be a dude" and transitions

Why this story in particular?

because history repeats itself

especially when there's a possibility that someone from that time influenced what happened..

thats it ig

RAAA

(If you don't like this post then don't bother to say anything about it. I was already sorta insecure about this post existifnf)

(seriously i know i pulled this AU out of my ass and it might not really fit but idc man its my thing and i made the au)

(Also you're allowed to have your own headcannons i don't mind as long as it doesn't hurt anyone :3)

[pianostarinwonderland]

damn ok malleus

yes. i am back. and i am gonna not shut up about the last main story update but specifically about the mixed opinions on Malleus' actions.

There's been interesting sides I've seen, both on Twitter and Discord. You have the Malleus stans, mostly the Malleyuu stans, who feel very conflicted about Yuu not being "included" in the dream worlds that Malleus sent the boys to. Then there's the other Malleus stans who are like "lol those Malleyuu stans were in absolute delulu for thinking Malleus would treat Yuu so specially". Thennnn you have some fans who would start discussions about that discourse just to insert their Malleus dislike opinions, where at that point I wished I said pls take that shit out of the topic 🤡

And for me? Well, after a week, I am now sitting here all like . what dafaq

No because there’s something I don’t get and it’s the thing I want to address first: how Malleus' UM works and the whole 'Yuu isn't in the dreams'. You all can correct me on this since I've only been relying on TL summaries and the little context clues I can glean from listening to the main story. From my understanding of how his UM works, Malleus can put people to sleep and put them in their own dream worlds. He can watch these dream worlds since he's the one who has the magic to put these people to sleep.

But he isn't the one conjuring up said dream worlds.

Malleus sent Idia to sleep, but he's not the one creating the scenario where Ortho is still alive and studying in RSA. That's a dream world created not from Malleus' magic but from Idia's inner desires, his inner subconscious. And we are just seeing that his dream world is a world where his brother is alive and happy.

If we are to assume that Malleus created that dream world for Idia, that would mean that he would have known Idia's backstory and grief for Ortho. But like, he doesn't.

Suffice to say then that since Idia's dream is centered around his subconscious, of course Yuu won't be in the dream. To him, Yuu isn't that important in his life. This extends to Grim. While Grim is a cute kitty, ultimately he isn't that important to Idia either, enough that he'd be part of his dream.

And that's why none of the dreams we see so far have Yuu in them. I don't really think it's Malleus excluding them, it's that the other boys don't really find them important enough in their lives to have a spot in their dreams. Sounds harsh, but it is true, especially since this is strictly main story we are talking about. No events being included whatsoever, barely any personal stories being included either (Robe Idia personal being the notable exception as it was actually featured in main story).

Now the second important thing that I don't really have to address but want to really talk about: Malleus' actions. A lot of people find themselves at a point of contention with this. Again, you have a good amount of Malleyuu fans who ended up in their divorce era lmfao. Then there were people who don't necessarily stan him but still felt displeased by his actions.

I don't really have an issue with people not liking what he's doing or acting. I'm not the biggest fan of Malleus either, and people who have either followed me for a while or regularly talk to me on Discord will know this. But what I have an issue with is that it feels like there's been a lack of willingness to understand where Malleus' actions come from. I will acknowledge, I used to not want to understand him, but after some self reflecting and talking to the right people, I can see the dude in a better light than before. The poor guy's been judged pretty badly, maybe not as bad as the judgment that Vil and Leona got, but the shift in opinion and the little willingness to understand him is . welp. kinda lolz. Especially when this has been built up for a while.

People have mentioned already that Halloween 2 shows Malleus' selfishness, and I agree with this sentiment. He sent people to the ghost's dimension, thinking that everyone would be happy. But consequently, while the ghosts are happy, the students are upset at what he and Lilia did. And for good reason! Some of them were possessed, and the others had to save them, which meant getting into fights. It was a dangerous situation to throw them in, especially when they were somewhere else.

Halloween 2 is a perfect example of Malleus doing things thinking that everyone would be happy. But really, it only makes himself happy, and he doesn't see or understand the perspective of others.

Malleus' dorm card and story was also released pretty early on in chapter 7's story for a reason as well. His story shows that selfish side of him, on a much more mundane scale, which is bringing all dorm leaders to Diasomnia for a dorm leader meeting, thinking that it would satisfy everyone. But they were upset of course, because without consent, they were just teleported like that. And that's a pretty scary situation to be taken away unexpectedly.

In short, Malleus' selfishness has always been a part of him. People can have their criticisms and dislike it, just as how you would dislike something in a person. But you can't deny that it is a part of Malleus, just as how him finding value in forgotten things like old architecture and gargoyles is a part of him.

And then you apply this to Chapter 7 where Malleus puts everyone to sleep so that Lilia wouldn't leave. It can and does leave a bad taste that Malleus is putting an entire island to sleep for 1000 years just for one guy to not leave. It’s also maddening that he can watch everyone’s dreams especially when they’re going to be so personal. The show of power, the disregard for others, it can be irritating to people, and if it wasn’t for the fact that it meant getting to know the rest of Diasomnia more, I’d hate it too lol

But personally speaking, I see where the dude’s coming from. Loneliness is a bitch, and it's worsened by the fact that his reputation drives people away. It's no secret either that Malleus' grandma is very busy to the point that there were some dinners with him that she had to cancel last minute due to work. Malleus' parents are dead. And the rest of Briar Valley would treat him with utmost respect and nothing more. So of course he'd cling onto the few things and people in life that make him feel less lonely. It's why he has fondness for Silver and Sebek. It's why he's so interested in people like Yuu and Grim who aren't afraid of him. It's why he values architecture that's been long forgotten.

Lilia of course has been the most influential to him. He's been with him for majority of his life. He's taken care of Malleus, he's kept him company. And for Lilia to suddenly leave and possibly to never be seen again. I think that would be absolutely crushing for Malleus. It's all the trauma and hurt and war flashbacks (that can unfortunately be literal) coming to bite him.

All the powers of the world in his hands, and he cannot gain his happy ending. Poor man.

In short, loneliness really hurts. I also say this personally speaking. When Chapter 7 came out, I was really struggling with loneliness, so it kinda made me empathize with Malleus.

It's also worth noting that Malleus doesn't act entirely on his own feelings. He hears from others their own feedback and feelings and will do something. One of his motivations in doing what he's doing was seeing Silver's and Sebek's reactions. When the two of them reacted to the news, Malleus was the one who told them to accept Lilia's decisions, even if he himself was probably the most hurt by them. Malleus saw Silver cry about it.

It's definitely something ingrained in him as crown prince: that he would have to hear out a problem and come up with a solution. Not that he’s good at it (because interpersonal matters apparently didn’t matter that much to his teachers /hj.) But he does it because he’s taught to. And because he's so powerful, people will look to him to solve the problem. You really see this in Glorious Masquerade, especially when Idia, Azul, and Malleus went up the tower. Idia would be like, "Let Malleus take out the flowers!!" but Azul would use his magic to take them out. In hindsight, when Malleus complimented Azul for his ability, I now wonder if part of it was not just awe for such magical ability but also admiration that someone didn't just rely on Malleus, but stepped up to do something and succeeded in helping out.

There’s really a lot to Malleus right now that’s causing him to do these things. And hey, it’s just like with every other OB that we’ve encountered. Trauma that has hurt them since childhood affects the things that they do in the present, and either the trauma itself or their present actions will bite them back in the ass.

I don’t know anymore man, I’m literally like supposed to be the last person to defend Malleus 🤠 but there’s just some brainworms in the head that I want to let out because damn….. it sucks to see how too much devotion to a fanon version has caused this split and conflict and simultaneously see people who really dislike Malleus take the opportunity to dunk on him without really having substance and understanding in their arguments.

[witch-and-her-witcher]

nessriel | E | hurt/comfort, modern AU - magic/CC inspired

Aux officer Cassian brings a stray home with him and he doesn't want to let her go. Lieutenant Azriel, and his life partner, thinks he has a bleeding heart and an undiagnosed mental health condition - until he meets Nesta Archeron for himself, sweating and vomiting through a self-led alcohol detox, and decides ... yeah, they should keep her. Nesta is at an all-time low, all her bridges burned, but she's going to pull herself together and try to keep her mess from spilling into these ridiculously gorgeous, kind-hearted Auxie's lives.

ao3

For @polyacotarweek!

Chapters 6-9/9

Preview Below

Cassian doesn’t have to pretend he’s asleep to wind his arms around Nesta. 

All he wants is to help take away the occasional shake in her body, those hollow cheeks and dark bags under her eyes. The nervous way she clasps and unclasps her hands, nervously checking for exit routes, when she thinks they aren’t paying attention. Cassian’s instincts drive him to protect, to assure, to let her know that anxiety doesn’t have to exist for one, but while it does, she doesn’t have to shoulder it alone.

Cassian is strong enough to help her — Az is even fucking stronger when it comes to internal battles. They’ve got her. And now they can show that in the way that comes easiest, when words fail and actions are needed as proof of follow through and intention.

Something about the freedom to touch her, to offer physical comfort, sets free a tension Cassian didn’t realize was winding him tight. 

He sighs contently into her hair that pools around the space on the pillow between them. “This okay?” he asks for probably the tenth time.

Nesta makes a tired, adorable growl. “How about I’ll kick you in the balls if it's not, otherwise it’s fine.”

“That sounds like a terrible plan for my balls.”

“Don’t get overly handsy and your pretty little balls will stay intact.”

“Oh, so you’ve been thinking about them, huh —” Cassian doesn’t bother dodging the elbow to his ribs. He wants her to know he can take whatever Nesta throws his way. Also that he can respect her boundaries, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to treat her like she’s fragile.

On her other side, Azriel’s alluring gaze cuts like a cat’s through the dark of their bedroom — expensive light blocking curtains and shades to accommodate Az needing to sleep during the day blocking out the midday sun— dancing with amusement. “You deserved that, Cass.” He isn’t touching Nesta, Cass knows he doesn’t want to crowd her with too much too fast, but his wing is unfurled just enough to touch Cassian’s over top of her. Creating their own connection while also making a protective barrier over their girl —

Shit.

Their girl, huh?

Well. Nothing is for sure. Nesta hasn’t fully admitted feelings for them or an interest to be in a full-fledged relationship but … Home. Damn, she has to know how much that means considering the state Cass had found her in.

Home to those who have been homeless, cast adrift in this busy world that will eat them up and spit them back out, that’s not a word that gets thrown around without deep emotions tied to it.

“I know he’ll be better behaved, maybe I should let Az —”

“No, it’s my turn,” Cassian practically whines, flexing his arm but not holding any tighter on Nesta so she doesn’t feel trapped.

“You’re ready for a big ass, Illyrian sized koala bear, right?”

Nesta snickers at the image Azriel provides, and Cassian gives him a shit eating grin. Yeah, he’s clingy as hell when he sleeps, so what? When he has someone like Az, or Nesta, in his bed, he’d be an idiot not to hold them as close as possible.

He’s so damn lucky.

“I guess I’ll deal with it,” Nesta grumbles, but her actions belie her words as she drives ever slightly closer into Cassian’s body heat.

Cassian swallows his excitement down again. He can’t let himself get carried away before anything is for certain here. It’ll break his heart if Nesta decides she wants nothing to do with them …

Nesta lets out a beautiful, content sigh as her eyelashes flutter shut. Her and Azriel don’t take long to fall into the steady breathing rhythm of sleep, although Cassian feels like he might vibrate out of his skin.

This isn’t the weekend he and Az had planned, but gods, he wouldn’t trade it for anything. He wants this, he wants them, and Cassian isn’t a male to let what he wants slip through his grasp. He’ll do whatever it takes to keep Nesta and Az happy, safe, secure with him and in their home.

Whatever they need, Cass will be for them.

read more

[caernua]

re: your arcana post - i literally don't even go here but i live for drama.... if you were ever to do a video essay or even just a write up in a post about the situation.... i want to know what happened, can't resist 👀👀

oh my goodd it's so eerie to explain it to someone who wasn't involved but this silly little mobile dating sim was just an initial passion project from a small team of employees of an indie game developer that was basically given six weeks to turn in something completely self-indulgent and it quickly got a backing on kickstarter around 2016-2017? beyond that it was quite a classic case of a project becoming more famous than its creators expected and it turns into a bit of a mess bc of their lack of experience. and by that i mean they got very close to the fans, and that's bound to open a can of worms. they used to make weekly q&as and you can't imagine what an exciting event that was, oh my god literally everyone was in a discord server losing their shit bc the devs had opened the askbox and we could ask the stupidest questions in the world about their characters and they would answer bc frankly they were very funny and the characters were all like... established in a funny enough way that it was so easy to make good jokes about them.

and i think what makes it very interesting is that the fandom was actually pretty small, but it felt HUGE. those q&as seemed like the most viral posts you could run into when you logged on tumblr but really most of them had a couple thousand notes at best, even when the arcana was at its most popular. it was literally like living in a small village where everybody knew EVERYBODY. if you posted something, high chance everyone in the fandom would see and reblog. it was like a hive mind.

also part of the reason why it felt so huge was bc everyone was churning out fan content like CRAZY, i don't think there was ever any fandom i've personally been in where i've seen so many people create so much damn stuff and frankly i think it's one of its strongest features. idk what it is about this game but everytime i revisit it inspires me so much, suddenly i wanna pick up my tablet after months, i wanna try writing again, etc. it's just wonderful at urging you to create and i have no idea how one even achieves that.

but yea the fandom slowly disappeared partly due to controversies, some of the creators were found to have been into some questionable stuff back in their not so olden days and they stepped away from the limelight, afterwards i believe a lot of the team stepped away from the game altogether. but it was weird because the controversies were constant, not just towards the creators but also within the fandom itself 💀 and given the huge volume of them they of course ranged from reasonable criticism especially regarding the representation of the characters of color, or the absurd microtransaction to stuff like 'his eyes are drawn bigger in this cg so the artists wanted to make him look like a child so this game caters to pedos actually' dkjgdkfj i saw some CRAZY takes and the bad faith criticism definitely overshadowed the reasonable voices in my opinion, it was not balanced at all. they stopped doing the q&as, the posts they made on their official tumblr became way more sanitized, and actually in a way so did some aspects of the game, and little by little it grew quieter.

and now it's... silent. but it's so near and dear to my heart, i think it's an absolutely wonderful game and what i love about it the most is how much it inspires people to create. and i think the reason why is bc unlike in many games like this (at least i think, i'm not sure cause i haven't played many) your character doesn't just suddenly meet every love interests. they have a connection to some of the love interests and a past they don't remember so it's very interesting to peel those layers back, BUT because it's your character the story stays quite vague about the past. so it's incredibly fun to speculate, to create a backstory, etc! that's i think one of my favorite things about it and it's not a coincidence that arcana went on to inspire some fans to venture into the visual novel genre as creators themselves.

and yea overall it just felt like a close positive community (well. mostly really, we are talking about a fandom on tumblr here so) and a super creative and inspiring one. the jokes were super fun, the art was top notch, the writing was also good. so yea i kinda miss it and it's sad to see how empty it seems now? like i see people from 2020 onward go 'ohh i just discovered this game' and i'm like... MY SWEET SUMMER CHILD... YOU HAVE NO IDEA.... YOU HAD TO BE THERE.... and ig i didn't really answer your question bc i kind of glossed over the drama but i went through the whole phenomenon bc i think it was. really interesting to witness 🫡

[tainbocuailnge]

thinking about this take on how artificial image generation can probably satisfy people whose primary method of like, being a fan of something is to just collect as many images of it as possible, but it can't replace the urge to create images yourself rather than only see them. and the recent thing getting talked about with people feeding unfinished fanfics into text generators to see the ending. and that post about how people need to stop using character chatbots and go back to roleplaying with their friends.

my position is biased in its own way because i want to jump off a bridge if i go more than 3 days without drawing anything and i have never once had the urge to look for fanfiction because i can simply imagine scenarios in my head myself, but people who repeatedly use these artificial content generators beyond just wanting to toy around with them for the novelty seem to just be lacking in imagination to me.

why are you feeding fic into a textbot to get an ending, just imagine it your damn self. the text generator is going to come up with something based on established patterns observed in similar texts just like you are, but without the ability to understand or intuit any of the intent or meaning behind any of those patterns the way you personally can, and it doesn't know what ending you personally are hoping for either. why do you want a chatbot to pretend to be a character for you, this thing doesn't have the sentience to be able to interpret the source text the way you and your buddies can, it's just repeating lines back at you. the image generator can provide you with a picture of 2B with a huge dick but it can't come up with the idea of 2B with a huge dick in the first place, let alone give you the joy of drawing a picture of 2B with a huge dick yourself.

idk i don't think it's like, morally wrong to take a more passive approach to whatever your definition of "fandom" is and just watch the show and look at the fanart and read the fic without making anything yourself. I don't wanna be all "normal people vs creative people" here. I do think it's vital to your fulfilment as a human being to engage with the creative process every now and then though, and I also think it's sad to need a textbot to come up with an ending for that unfinished fic you like because you can't imagine it yourself.

[ssreeder]

Hey!! I just wanted to say thanks for all your hard work <3<3

I had been a little down when it came to creating more content or being involved in Zukka side of the fandom but seeing your update reminded me to just have fun. And okay this is going to sound bad but I swear I mean this as a compliment; I thought I was wasting my time working for months and years on the stuff I made, but then I realized your fic series brings me so much joy and I'd never, ever judge you for the amount of effort you put into your writing. Seeing it's actually inspiring, to see that someone holds that much passion and creativity and you are sharing it all for FREE. That a person could take all this time to intricately weave together a story, create memorable OCs, breathe new life and make the ATLA world so much bigger than it ever was in canon.

So thanks for accidentally giving me a kick in the butt to stop being judgy about my own work and making me realize you and every fan creator is AWESOME.

I hope you have a wonderful day, your writing is a blessing.

awwww I wanted to say thank you for sending me this ask! I know it’s not easy to put yourself out there, even on anon, so I think it’s cool you felt confident enough to come here and tell me about how you’re feeling.

I don;t think what you’re saying is bad at all haha, because honestly, I feel the same way. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve wondered why the fuck am I still doing this? What’s the point? Do people even still care? What if it’s not good enough? What if people discover I have no fucking idea what I’m doing? Why am i spending so much of my time and effort doing this?? I mean… the self doubt is super real, and shiiiiiit let me discover one person that feeds into my self doubt and I’m full on spiraling haha. (Be nice to creators damn it! we are doing our damn best lol)

I’m really glad you think my fic is awesome, and if it weren’t people like you reminding me, I probably would have given up a long time ago haha. I do give my fic a lot of effort, and I hope you continue to give your creations the same amount of love and effort! I’m sure you’re amazing, and seriously don’t give up! I care about your creations and if I don’t get to stop neither do you! WOHOOO!!

Thanks for the ask anon sorry it took me so long to answer

[tamelee]

Personally I don’t really get people who say they acknowledge Sasuke and Naruto’s romantic bond but still ship Sasuke with a woman… Like, they saw that he was gay (he’s shown to not be attracted to women so he’s not bi) but kinda don’t care?

Actually I don’t really understand the whole shipping culture, or even mainstream fandom culture… I don’t know, I just don’t see the point in just making up content for pre-existing characters while completely destroying what made the characters unique in the first place by ignoring canon entirely (like crack-shipping). I get why people wouldn’t like everything about canon, it’s my case too, but if they don’t like anything about canon… Why are they here in the first place?

Nooo now I sound grumpy. I must be bothering you I’m so sorry 😭😭

Anyway, you’re amazing and I hope you know it 🥰

You don't sound grumpy to me dw 🫶

Well, I don't believe such ships have much to do with Canon either way. And I doubt all of them hate Canon per se, though some change 'Canon' to like Canon, which is funny. "This is my Canon." Yeah, not how it works, but ok- have your Canon your way ofc ┐(￣ヮ￣)┌

Side-note though, I don't think Sasuke even knows who Hinata is? 😆 It's as you say; crack-shipping. (I saw that giant/small-yaoi meme here on Tumblr again. No idea what it's called, and immediately thought; a yes, Sukuna and Levi. Kinda want to draw xD Makes no sense at all.) A lot of Headcanon is derived from personal... ideas/desires/inspiration or self-inserting reasons? (Isn't that exactly what 'x-reader' fics are?) Or even trend-posting. As much as characters are used to tell a story for the original author/creator (they're essentially tools), do fans use them to create new ideas. "Ah yes, we all know this character, let's create something around it simply because I want to." Which is completely fine, right? Look at rare pairs. And to be fair, a lot of content, fictional writing and art aren't even based on canon either. The closest thing through fan-work are Manga analyses or meta's, even panel redraws- stuff like that. People adapt 'canon' into fanwork through various degrees or sometimes ditch it altogether. Nsfw/spice is by default made up and entirely Headcanon :') (Though personality can be depicted in a way ig, through expression/behavior and whatnot.)

I totally get what you mean though, although I guess I'm caught up in fandom-culture now. Personally, I do like characters as 'canon' as possible, but it really depends. For some Animanga I don't really care. I think I ship pretty much all TR/BlueLock-characters for literally no reason, but I wouldn't claim it to be Canon in any way (˚☐˚! )/

However, I don't like it when Naruto and Sasuke's characters are butchered. Made-up context or not. The originals are so special to me and it's the reason why I'm a fan, though I don't mind too much in fics, depending on the story. I find it hard to feel the same when they've practically become someone's OC's with only the same name and design. I can't even read height/age-differences because I can't imagine it xD But anyway, this all includes "official" work made for financial/marketing reasons also- especially those damn novels. Those never have anything to do with canon, nor does it align with it. No matter how passionately people claim otherwise.

I'm only a tiny bit petty about it >< u&me grumpy 🤝 And aahhww I don't actually, you should see me sitting here in giant red Christmas socks and a glittery green sweater that's kinda itchy tbh. I don't really feel anything other than those glitters annoying me every 3 seconds... which reminds me I should change -.- anw thankyou <3

[strawberry-cowmilk]

I'm sorry but I have this really good scenario (in my opinion) stuck in my head and I must tell it.

Ok so soloman is making a potion{not cooking lucky} and everyone is there(don't question it). Anyways Soloman wanted to try and make a special potion that could make you see into the possible future for fun.

MC then needs to go to the bathroom and leaves the room with the door shut. However just a few minutes after she left l. The potion in the coulderen explodes.

Thick bronze smoke surrounds everyone, but eventually it slowly disappears, but they are shock to see that they had been teleported to Diavolo's garden.

"What the hell did that damn potion do soloman!"

"I think, if then potion worker transported all of us to a likely possible future for a short while"

"And how long is a while?"

"20 or 10 minutes."

I wondered what kind of future we are in? Barbtous do you maybe know the answer to that?" Diavolo asked.

"Yes my Lord, we are 350 years in the future, in this future you are now king, the three worlds have come to peace. And MC has died and become a demon."

"Man it only to- MC IS A DEMON!!!!" Mammon shrieked.

"Yes."

"HAH!"

" MC had died and became a demon and works for Diavolo." Barbtous said with a proud smile.

"Oi be more-"

Luke who was next to siman was still in half shocked because MC had turned into a demon and half pout becuae MC couldent be an angle with him and Simeon.

However soon Luke heard someone approaching them. When he looked to see who it was.

"WOW MC!"

Everyone immediately turned their heads.

MC grew taller, and her once brown eyes had turned into a dark gold. She wore velvet purple dress that perfectly hugged her figure and looked very nice against her natural tan brown skin. And her fluffy brown hair was now perfectly straight that nearly touched the ground. She also carried a long pipe that produces purple smoke.

Reaction?

(Also the mc I describe later on is based on what I think my mc would look like as a demon.)

Hello, welcome back, my loyal requester! No need to apologise, I'm going to try my best on this request too! Enjoy

the cast finds out mc will become a demon

-> brothers and side characters x mc (luke platonic)

mc's gender is not mentioned, not proof read

content warnings: mentions of death, lesson 16 spoilers

-----

Lucifer

at first, he was very angry with solomon, yet again had he created some potion that was nothing but a waste of time

but, when he laid eyes on you, everything changed

he wasn't happy with the fact that you'd die one day, but seeing how you'd find your way back to his realm was a huge comfort

Mammon

his first thought when he found out he was in the future was to check whether he's still in debt or not (he probably is)

but then he saw you, his face went red and he forgot his own name

his greatest fear has become losing you, after you died in his arms thanks to belphie, but now he sees that you'll always find your way back to him

Leviathan

he wants to go home, to present day

he wants to go home even more after having seen how you look as a demon, because he was beyond flustered and embarrassed

but, the question is why you became a demon instead of an angel, did you fall? well, as long as you're with him

Satan

350 years in the future? oh no, is the cat cafè still here?

the question died in his throat when he saw how you looked, he'd give up any cat cafè just to see you shining like that every day

satan did wonder why you ended up in the devildom after your death, but he doesn't pay it much mind

Asmodeus

if you hadn't showed up, he would have ran off to find his future self

he went classic asmo mode when he saw your new look 'oh my, mc! you look so beautiful!'

he needs some pictures of future you, so he can show present you how stunning you end up becoming

Beelzebub

'where is akudonald's? I can't see akudonald's, it's usually visible from here-'

nevermind cheeseburgers, his full attention is towards you now

he's so glad and relieved seeing you as a demon, that means he won't have to lose you later on

Belphegor

what a waste of time, he could be sleeping right now, thanks solomon

his first instinct was to sit out the 10 to 20 minutes until he can go again, but then he saw you

he never wants to leave this place now, demon mc became his new favorite thing

Diavolo

he's the king now? what happened to his father? 350 years is too soon

diavolo was worried, but seeing you melted all stress away

and you work for him? he sees this as a chance to get closer to you, the future isn't so scary after all

Barbatos

he kind of spoiled your new look for himself when he used his powers, but oh my it hits different when he actually saw it in person

'mc, you look positively radiant' ironic, you were a demon

you work for diavolo? great, you're now co-workers!

Simeon

when he saw you, he decided he would march into michael's office and announce his desire to become a demon to be with you

but, luke wouldn't like that, would he? he still has to look after and mentor the young angel

well, at least 350 years is a long way, he still has tons of time to spend with you

Luke

he's kind of upset and confused, because he'd be sure you'd turn into an angel

you never did anything bad, does that mean you fell from the celestial realm? were you an angel at first?

regardless of luke's confusion, you seemed happy here, that's what matters

Solomon

he messed up, the potion was not supposed to explode and do this

but, his mistake seemed to turn into something good after he saw you, it was a happy accident

oh he wants a pact with demon you so bad, guess that has to wait a few years

[miraculous-ninjabird]

TLDR for my rant: it’s perfectly okay to admit you are bad at something, say something YOU made looks bad, and/or talk about the ways something you made didn’t live up to your expectations as long as someone does not internalize the message that because they are bad at something or did something bad doesn’t mean that they themselves are a bad person.

Desperately trying to explain to my therapist the difference between ‘I’m a terrible artists’ (self-derogatory and self-defeating) and ‘I’m a terrible artists (I fully acknowledge that I could be better at this skill given time and effort and that all art has value to someone. However. I am specifically choosing not to hone this skill due to a number of reasons and will never consider myself an ‘artist’. Thus, my art will never get better and I am okay with this)

And how I fall solidly into the latter category and how frustrating it is that it’s never seen that way. I say ‘I’m not an artist lol’ or ‘look at my terrible little drawing!” <-worst drawing you’ve ever seen but that’s okay. It’s always, always met by ‘don’t say that! Everybody is an artist!’ And ‘don’t talk bad about yourself and the things you create :(‘ like.

NO!

Some people do desperately need to hear and internalize those messages but I’m not one of them! My art is terrible! That’s the point! I’m never going to be good at it because I’ll never care to but damn if I’m not having the greatest time ever creating terrible art!

I don’t love the online implication (and real world implication when I tried to take art classes) that being okay with the fact I am bad at something is…a bad thing. A simple fact of life is that everyone is bad at something and it’s okay to both admit and be okay with that fact.

Tangentially related but it’s also okay to admit that when you are new at a skill…you’re probably gonna be bad at it. Like. Someone who’s still learning is gonna have some terrible first efforts and that’s the point. It gives you a growth point.

Example: I made a bag. I decided to add a zipper. It did not go as planned and the end result is in fact rather terrible. Simply a fact. However! I put a zipper! In a bag!! And maybe it does look horrible but that is something I’ve never done before and I did it all by myself and I can simultaneously admit it looks awful but be proud of the fact that I figured it out.

Like art I could be content with the success of finishing the project, but I can also use this as a launching point to get better. What I choose to do is up to me and I don’t appreciate people trying to tell me that I’m not allowed to call an objectively terrible finished project as such.

You cannot and will not ever get better at a skill if you are unwilling to accept that you will be bad at it. It makes that learning that acceptance all the harder when people are taught that they shouldn’t ever say bad things about what they make.

Rather than teaching the message ‘nothing anyone makes could possibly be bad in any way (skill wise)’ we would promote acceptance of ‘this is bad and that’s okay’

Thank you for coming to my TedTalk about ‘not every negative self-comment about something someone is self-deprecating’