#OOC: [ * Don't know what tags to add for reach.... help ]

[starry-night-monster]

Hello, fellow monster! How you doing in Omega timeline? Did you have any friends or knowing-ones there? If yes, you hang out with them?

[*Oh, hello! The Omega Timeline is great! There's free healthcare, and just walking around and exploring all the places is fun and pleasant.]

[*I'm going to be honest with you, I don't really have friends in here.. I may occasionally have a conversation with a stranger, but other than that, I don't have that much social interaction.]

[*I do however know of fellow survivors from my AU of origin, but I don't speak much to them. Funny thing is that not a single Jeremy has made it to the Omega Timeline before the AU got destroyed.]

[*Nobody liked the Jeremies.]

[*In fact I can't seem to find other Jeremy variants here in the Omega Timeline... Hey, no wonder this is such a nice place!]

#io answers #OOC: [ * Don't know what tags to add for reach.... help ]

[fatesundress]

⭑ patience, please, and thank you. tom riddle x reader

summary. you and tom have always sought to best one another in school. it doesn’t help that upon graduating, you work for opposing shops.

tags. rivals to … rivals with benefits? lovers? there’s no real animosity just #flirting so i don’t know, SMUTT minors begone, fluff that may be ooc to some but Not Me, reader literally learns archaic latin for this man, poor boy x rich girl trope if you squint, pureblood reader (and mentions of pureblood marriage politics), explicitly f!reader this time sorry!, fem anatomy, fingering, piv, tldr tom riddle would be turned on by the culminated tension of an eight-year-long academic rivalry.

note. i was 5k words into something else (that is probably better) before this came to me and would not go away so. here it is. don't know where all the smut is coming from. head empty

word count. 6.4k

The bell to Borgin and Burkes knells low and hollow in your ear as you enter, and there he is. Prim waistcoat and perfect hair, tucking books away with a wave of his wand. Far too pretty a thing for a dusty place like this, you think, and you smile with your head held high, pretending to take in the inventory as if that's ever been your reason for coming here.

“You mightn't consider leaving at all," Tom says, regarding you briefly before returning to his books, “if you're going to return this often."

“Oh, Riddle, but then what would you do without my company? Talk to the bones?"

“A tempting offer when considering my alternative.”

He leans against the counter to watch you as you make your way down the aisle, fingers jolting as they brush the shelves of dark paraphernalia, preemptively casting a locking jinx on a particularly nasty skeletal hand that grabbed you once last year.

“Is there anything you're looking for?"

“Nothing in particular,” you hum as you peruse, “Curiosities of your friendly competitors.”

“Friendly,” he repeats, like he’s tasting a strange flavour.

You smile with just enough polished barb that you hope it bothers him. “Most cordial. And I am nothing if not the dutiful volunteer for the task." 

It is an objective truth that you are good at many things. Tom is good at all of them and perhaps one more: being pushed significantly and never showing symptoms of breaking. You'd like to be the one to change that.

“I presume you intend to leave with something?" There's a challenge in his voice, clear as day, as he stands straighter, but — not bothered. Not bothered, just intrigued. His hands fold behind his back and his chin comes up, daring you to say a single snarky thing that isn't true — that you're here to taunt him. Not to buy a thing, and not to enjoy his company.

It was such a boring day before this. If he only knew, he might have a tad more sympathy.

“Breathe, Riddle — if you can through all the dust in here — I've plenty of money to spare; there’s no need to fret about me leaving empty-handed." You select a book at random to prove your point, waltzing closer to hand Tom four sickles from your coin purse.

You're pleasantly surprised to see him actually smile, the corners of his mouth stretching with only the slightest degree of mirth. He reaches out and takes the coins, setting both upon the counter before turning up his nose at the book in your hands. “It must be an enthralling read to capture your attention."

You smooth the cover over with manicured hands and shrug at the indecipherable title. “Well, I’m remiss not to have a clue. I believe it's in Latin."

He runs his hand along the book, thumbing the pages with a raised brow. “It’s a history text. Ancient Roman institutes of magic.” His gaze returns to you. “Will that be all?”

You roll your eyes. He would know a dead language — it's such a remarkably Riddle thing to do — probably just for the sake of knowing it. 

“Yes, if that's satisfactory enough that I may be permitted to walk the premises without causing offence."

“Of course. Though I do expect a review of it soon," he adds, “to know whether my time hasn't been entirely wasted."

“A review?" You laugh. “And I suppose you ask that of all your customers? Mind the matter of it being in a language I don't know; it would take me a few months for a crude translation at best."

“Only my best customers," he says with a small shrug, as if that isn't a completely arbitrary standard he's just pulled out of nowhere. “In that case, you've the better part of a year to read it," he adds, and the smile on his face is less thin, less restrained, more cocky.

You raise a brow, scanning over the words on the first page as if hoping something will stick out. It's all gibberish. “I'm being timed now, am I? I don't recall accepting the task."

"Do you not?"

You scoff. "Of course I do."

“Or perhaps I could translate for you?" he suggests, “It's really no bother for me."

You should be offended — he's eternally eager to see you fail — but your stomach flips at the premise of a challenge you haven't felt since you were in school together, and most importantly, you never fail. “Give me a date, Riddle.”

“I think by Christmas would be fair. Does that give you enough time, or shall I set it a bit later?"

“Christmas," you agree, shaking his hand with all professionalism you can muster (this is, after all, a very professional exchange), turning away, and smiling to yourself as the shop bell tolls again.

It’s only weeks before Christmas when it occurs to you that this isn’t even for anything. There’s no prize should you win, no one else is aware of it, it’s a great waste of time when what began as a passable weekend hobby has now drowned you in English-Latin dictionaries and histories of Ancient Rome. The shop surpasses last year’s sales and you’re dozing off into your mother’s pastry dish during the family celebration. Even your father telling a rather pitiful tale of his Polyjuiced visit to Borgin and Burkes can’t keep your attention when he drones on about how easily he fooled Mr Borgin into remembering the details of some spat twenty years ago. Your brain is in a half-scattered language. It tugs you to what might be the most depressing December 25th of your life if you’re forced to give Tom the gift of your failure.

So you double-down. Your social life is nonexistent. You’re three quarters through the textbook and dreaming about duelling Tom under the Arch of Constantine, and he wins, and he wins, and he wins each time. It only propels you more. You’re downing Invigoration Draughts like a drunkard with a cradle of firewhisky. 

And you do it. 

You finish the damn book, you think you might have actually fucking learned Latin with how deep the words have rooted in your skull, and you win.

You win, in your prettiest dinner dress, snow clinging to your hair, wrapped in a brand new coat as the shop bell tolls and you step inside.

You’re grateful you don’t say as much (which you were planning on doing — planning on slamming the door shut behind you and carolling your bloody success) because it’s Mr Burke at the counter this Christmas evening, not Tom.

“...Miss?” He regards you with perplexity behind the counter.

You blink, recollecting yourself and stepping forward to shake his hand. “Mr Burke. My family wished to extend their best wishes for the new year.”

“Quite a gesture," comes a familiar voice from behind you as Tom steps out from the staircase, dressed in a dark suit and overcoat, like he’s just been out. He’s smiling. He looks disgustingly well.

You glance between the two men, and Burke bows curtly as if made aware of something he’d previously been warned of. “To yours as well, miss.” And then he’s off to assist the only other customer, an elderly woman in fur-lined green with so many glittering pins in her hair she resembles a Christmas tree.

“Riddle,” you say, facing him, unable to hide the triumphant grin that digs into your cheeks. You hand him the book, and atop it, your three pages of articulate, edited review.

“You made it. You read it," he acknowledges, though you doubt he’s surprised, and then nods to the stairs. “Come.”

You follow him up the narrow spiral into a short corridor, taking one look back at the old woman, now clasping a shrieking bauble you gladly turn away from. The door Tom opens is unlocked, presumably where he’d just come from, and — you feel a bit overwhelmed if you’re correct, but you have no idea what else it could be — presumably his flat.

When you enter, the door shuts behind you with an empty click of the latch. The room before you is rather sparse, a kitchenette in one corner, a cramped study in the other, with books upon books and scrolls stacked high on shelves along the dark walls. There's only the barest of seating, two armchairs beneath a dim desk lamp, a small table beside the fireplace, and… a bed, of all things, separated only by a thin divider and the courtesy of enough distance not to immediately draw the eye. You, of course, can't quite help it, gaze lingering on the tidy sheets and back to him.

It isn’t a thought you do well to dwell on. Too many directions for your imagination to roam.

“Well then," you say, hanging your coat at the door and trying not to display any overt anticipation as the parchment rustles in his hand, “Shall I just sit and await your evaluation?"

He raises a brow. “I was going to ask if you’d like tea. Do sit, though.”

Oh. Yes, right, you’re rushing things. Hospitality. Decorum. Consideration. You suppose Tom Riddle would extend those things for the sake of posterity if nothing else. “Something black, if you have any, please.”

The water comes to a boil quickly under the steady heat of his magic, and you’re sinking into a shockingly comfortable armchair taking in every shape and blemish of the room while you’re in it. You don’t have to guess that he doesn’t have many guests.

“Darjeeling,” Tom says as he offers you a steaming cup, “if that’s satisfactory.”

You resist a scowl at his mocking tone, placing the tea on a glass coaster and glancing purposefully at your work (your magnum opus, really) once more. “Perfectly.”

Tom notes your look with a smile, settling into the seat opposite yours. 

You take a sip of tea and lean back. “Do go on.”

“Eager,” he mutters, but begins.

He skims over the opening line before flipping the book open as if to be sure you haven’t made it all up, and then you think you probably could have made it all up if you wanted. Read one of the hundreds of magical histories of Rome that certainly existed — probably in your own shop, at that — and gathered much the same conclusion. But you did not. Tom must know you did not. 

The silence is thick as he reads, waned only by the crackle of the fireplace and the occasional turn of a page. His brows furrow the way you always remember catching in school, like he's concentrating on a particularly hard puzzle, and you have to busy yourself with a nearly empty cup of tea to pretend not to notice the way his beauty is something almost delicate. Framed by firelight and the indigo gloss of the night shining in through the window, you imagine his hair mussed, his long eyelashes speckled with snow, his cheeks pink from the cold. You wonder about him in a nicer suit than this. You could buy him one, if you liked.

And then, at last, he looks up over the parchment, expression carefully measured. “I'm impressed.”

You put your cup down and you can’t help it. You're smiling. You're proud. His approval is like bottling the tail of a rainbow (which you’ve been told is possible), and it's a feeling that’s been absent from you for so long, it's never come from him — Merlin, you've always wanted it to come from him, haven’t you?

“You’re impressed?” you ask, as you love nothing more than to push. “Is that all?”

He loves nothing more than to keep his face impassive, but there’s a twitch there. Something you’re aware you can only spot because of how much attention you pay him. 

“I enjoyed your perspective on the Romans’ utilisation of firedrakes. It was well-thought.”

“Well-thought?”

“Quite good, yes.”

“Good," you say, grinning in the bulk of your triumph, “I suppose that means I win."

Win. You’re not winning anything but the implication that Tom is somehow losing. Still he does not break, and you think at seventeen he would have. At nearly twenty his smile just grows. “Have you ever done anything less?”

Is he pushing too? That could be fun.

“Oh, first year tribulations. Nothing since — you wouldn’t remember.”

“Hm, I do recall an unfortunate lesson with a matagot in Beasts, and that must have been, what—” He tilts his head as though to ponder it— “fourth year?”

You narrow your eyes. “Paid an ever-close watch on me, did you, Riddle?”

“As close as anyone else.”

“And by that you mean to say—?”

“Only that it’s a most fascinating custom, the matter of pureblood marriage. It was hard to avoid your name in a common room full of your particular politics.”

“Ah,” you hum, summoning the teapot from the kitchenette to pour another cup, “so my potential marital affairs are what drew your attention. And here I was thinking it was because I was the only person who could ever best you.”

He stops your tea mid-motion, and you still as he sends both the pot and the cup to the table beside you. “Can it not have begun as one and have become the other?”

“Well, your curiosity knows no end; I should be flattered by such multifaceted interest.”

“So you won’t mind my inquiring.”

“Whatever you wish, Riddle.”

“Upon the current status of your betrothal.”

You blink, and then laugh. “There is no betrothal. At present.”

“At present. Is it subject to change?”

“There’s always talk,” you offer, and it offers impressively little.

“Elaborate...”

“I don’t know that you’re in any position to be making demands,” you gibe, “considering I paid four sickles to prove you wrong and I haven’t anything to show for it but my pride.”

He smiles. “Not enough to sate your desire to make me grovel, it seems.”

“You? Grovel?” You gasp, fingers circling your knee idly. “What a fascinating concept… Wait now, I’m trying to paint the picture.”

“Is that not what you came for?” he asks, and it’s odd to see him amused by the idea. You push and push and he just continues to take. “To prove me wrong? To puncture my pride?”

You shrug innocently, even though you’d just said as much. “I’m here to wish you a Merry Christmas.”

He laughs, a warm, quiet laugh — more of a breath than anything — but true if you can read him at all, and that’s a bit alarming. “Of course. Near nine months of exhaustive translation all to bid me a nice holiday. It sounds almost like grovelling, doesn’t it? Wait, now, I’m trying to paint the picture.”

You bite back your smile. Damn him. He’s never been funny before. That’s a problematic development.

“Fine.” Your legs are already crossed and now you’re crossing your arms too, and you look very reserved compared to his relaxed stature. “A match would, of course, need to be of good title.”

“Of course,” Tom says, without even an attempt at masking his amusement.

“And he would need to be rich.”

“Naturally.”

“It would help to be from one of the Sacred Houses.”

“I should not expect anything less.”

“And I suppose age is a factor,” you go on. You push, and push, and push. Tom is impervious. He takes.

“What age would do well?”

“Near enough to my own. For health, of course.”

“For health,” he agrees delightedly.

What the hell are you talking about?

“It would be preferable that he be handsome.”

“And of his character?”

“Most agreeable.”

“Docile?”

“Hm, docile, yes.”

“It is a long list.”

“I’ve been told I’m a difficult woman to sate. Far too prideful, apparently.”

Your fingers are drawing figure-eights on your thigh now, and Tom’s eyes flash briefly to the motion. You stop as though caught, and you aren’t sure why.

“A defamatory accusation,” he says quietly.

You wonder if his voice has always had that tinge to it: the gravel underlining his polish like the crack of the fire, and — that must be why it’s so warm in here, too. It has been that way since you arrived, hasn’t it? Such polarising temperatures between your walk in the snow to this, you must have only just adjusted… an hour after arriving. It’s completely logical.

“So there are talks,” you repeat, if only because you’ve blanked on all else.

“Well,” he says, eyes boring into yours in a way that makes you feel transparent, “I wish you all the best. If it at all helps, you can now add a moderate understanding of Latin to your list of virtues.”

You drape an arm across your chair to match his easy posture. (And how is it he manages to look regal and informal at the same time?) “My list of virtues? Elaborate.”

He shakes his head with a small smile and you point an accusatory finger at him. “Ah, ah, Riddle — I won, remember? And I indulged your inquiring regardless.”

His eyes narrow. “You do want me to grovel.”

“It’s Christmas.”

“I don’t believe that’s the purpose of the day.”

“And that matters to you?”

He leans forward, looking over you as if your supposed virtues will reveal themselves upon scrutiny. It’s a bit offensive, really. You’d hope he could find more than enough with one glance.

He settles, after a long moment where you feel almost bare, on, “Your pride is agonising.”

It’s — not exactly what you were hoping for. Not quite grovelling, by any definition, but then, what did you expect from him?

“Excuse me?”

“Your stockings are ripped at the calf.”

“Riddle—”

“Your lipstick may have stained my teacup. It is a shade I’m rather fond of, but I do not wish to see a trace of it left behind.”

“Quite good,” you say through gritted teeth.

“And I should not be agonised — incautious and unfettered at a sliver of skin or the gesture of your mouth —” You realise with horror that he’s speaking through something constrained too — “and yet I am.”

It’s — is that a confession? Have you broken him? Have you won again? Your stomach flips and it doesn’t feel at all like winning. He certainly doesn’t look like a man who’s lost. In fact, he’s watching you intently, and at your lack of response, the constraint forming a taut line on his lips seems to slip back into something deliberate. Curious.

You recover to the best of your ability. “It is a short list.”

“Shall I go on?” he asks, and it’s an answer, too: no, you have most definitely not broken him. He looks a bit like he’s found a neat pathway to breaking you instead.

“I’d hate to debase you further.”

He leans in, and he might be about to stand, and that might be an irreversible thing to do. “Are you sure? I can’t imagine you’ve painted the picture yet.”

Oh, you’ve painted the picture. You’ve painted a gallery.

“I find the image regrettable half-done. No point finishing it now.”

You do not.

“And besides,” you add, “I know my virtues.”

He smiles, and he’s half orange in the firelight and half blue in the night, green somewhere in the middle, and he should be condemned for being this beautiful. “Elaborate.”

You shouldn’t. “I’m intelligent.”

“Mhm.”

“I’m a quick learner.”

“So I’ve seen,” he agrees, still leaning in.

“I’m good at my job.”

And then he stands.

It is an irreversible thing. Your heart lurches like it knows he’s going to do something that cannot be undone. Your heart lurches because it is a thing you’ve anticipated, quietly, on late nights in scrolls of Latin so you might be able to pretend to mistranslate them — you know, in your first tongue and any other, that you do not want it to be undone.

“Anything else?” he asks. You aren’t sure if you’re resentful of the proximity of his seat to yours or grateful for it, because it takes no time at all for him to be standing before you.

“I’m well-mannered,” you say, and it comes out quieter than you mean for it to. “Lettered in etiquette.”

“Etiquette," he repeats slowly, in a voice dripping with sarcasm, and you don't quite know how he manages an intonation like that, but there it is, dripping with so much contempt you’re surprised he doesn’t fall over.

It wouldn’t be terrible if he did. He’d land right on top of you and put this little game to rest.

Instead he reaches a hand to your cheek — your hair — and brushes it like it’s an absolutely standard thing to do. He pulls away just the same. As if his hand is familiar with the shape of your face because it’s been there before. You'd definitely remember if it had.

“Of course,” you breathe, “patience and pleases and thank yous.”

“In all your manners, you might provide an example.”

Fine. If he’s going to be difficult. “I’d say I’m displaying great patience right now.”

“Hm.” His hands find yours where they sit on either arm of your chair, and his figure is blocking all light now. It shines on his shoulders, casts him like an aura. “That’s one.”

You look at his lips, and don’t bother to look away. You incline forward as much as you can when you’re caged in like this, until his breath is on yours and you can smell his cologne.

“Please,” you say, and for the challenge in it you don’t feel too humbled.

He is most obliging.

His lips just barely brush yours at first, and you did say you were patient — so you wait. The feather-light touch of them stills before it deepens, his hands pressing down on yours. Your open mouth. His tongue. You're kissing him, breathlessly and frantically and completely, and it is all you want.

Tom pulls back and you instinctively push forward. You will your eyes to open and he’s still right there — he hasn’t gone anywhere (what a deranged concern that is) — lips an inch from yours, and he’s smiling.

“That’s two.”

Oh. Oh, he’s an aberration in human variance. There’s something incredibly wrong with him.

There isn’t a way of turning gratitude into a challenge, you think. It doesn’t ask for anything. It appreciates. In this case it would more closely resemble worship. Thank you for your kiss, Riddle, I’d be nothing without it.

So you search to find a way around it that still gets you what you want.

“I’ll need a bit more than a lousy kiss if you want to see me grovel, Riddle." Your voice is a bit rough. You don’t know that your confidence lands the way it typically does.

But you came here to — what was it — puncture his pride? Push him until he breaks? You’ve already made it halfway, and you are, after all, very good at it.

And you suppose he wants to earn the third, because he scowls and then he’s kissing you again and this time his hands are on your face, and perhaps they are somehow familiar with the shape because they fit around you in some inexplicably whole way, like they were made for it. With your hands free, you’re carding your fingers through his hair, hoping for that vision of him you imagined earlier, with thick, messy waves and flushed cheeks.

Tom brings a hand to your waist and tugs you in, and you’re partly pulled from the chair by his insistence and overwhelmingly pushing to get out of it yourself, lips never leaving his as you stumble past the meagre divider to his bed.

The backs of your thighs hit the footboard and your knees buckle, gasping away from Tom’s mouth as you reach for the bedpost. His breath is heavy as his hand curves to the small of your back to keep you steady, your dress bunched in his fist, and there’s a heat in him pressed against you, like a match being held to kindling. And in the flash of fire when it finally strikes, everything in his eyes is clear, singularly focused, and he's pushing you to your back, splayed across his tidy sheets as he kisses you with bruising ferocity.

There's an urgency now to his movements that wasn't there before, and it's a stark contrast to his usual calculated demeanour, but that feels like winning. That feels like breaking Tom Riddle, whittling years of practised constraint to… this. That draws the third: makes you nice and grateful like he asked, because no part of you wants his careful fortitude here. You want to ruin him.

He appears to want the very same from you, which wrecks the whole thing.

Your legs move to wrap around him and he stops you, one hand pinning you by the hip and then down, past where you think he’ll go, as he finds the hem of your dress and lifts it from your calf to your knee. He draws circles over the thinly-clothed skin and you can do nothing but lie there, panting a little, staring at him with less patience than you’d proclaimed to have. And then his fingers move upwards, and they’re drawing figure-eights, and you understand that if this isn’t a taunt, nothing is. He copies your earlier motions. He does not kiss you. His fingers trail higher and higher and they’re soft like the shadows framing his face.

Finally he finds the waistband of your stockings and begins to tug them down your hips, stopping when he reaches that sliver of skin revealed by a tear in the fabric, taking your leg and hiking it up so he can look closely. He smiles, finger sliding down the tear in such a precise, meticulous fashion you can’t help but think he’s doing it on purpose. The moment does not linger when he pulls away, shuffling your stockings down the rest of the way so your legs are unclad before him, your heels already kicked off somewhere across the floor.

He watches your sharp exhale when he ducks down to kiss the skin of your thigh. A shiver runs through you at his softness, another when you see his face, see his eyes go dark with want of you.

His constraint is back, and it’s fucking detrimental. The only silver lining you can find in it, and you hope to be correct (haven’t you been so far?), is that maybe that means Tom Riddle can be broken in litany. Maybe he amends his ruination now but you can carve it out of him again later.

“Come here,” you say, your voice ragged.

Tom frowns, one hand pursuing a dangerous path up the inside of your thigh. “And here I was under the impression you wanted me to grovel.”

“Oh,” you huff, “is that what this is? Not some feeble attempt at winning after I —”

You grip his hair as his fingers curl under the lace of your underwear, as he smiles at the dampness there, the way your argument dissipates beneath his touch. “Winning?” he derides, breathy to match your tone in a way that feels cruel rather than considerate. You nod even as your breathing accelerates and he lifts the skirt of your dress to rest over your thighs, his eyes darting between your legs and your own heavy gaze as if he can't decide which is more intriguing. And then he slides a finger across your heat and you think he’s made his choice. "Is that what you think I want?"

You blink, feeling a bit lost. "What else is there?"

“Will you thank me after this?”

Right. That. You swallow, head falling back on his pillow. “Doubtful.”

“Hm,” he mumbles, some kind of consideration that can only be answered by the movement of his fingers against you, slow as they seek to learn you.

You arrest the moan that rises in your throat, teeth clenching together as Tom climbs over you once more, his body keeping you in place to watch the sustained details of your expression as one of his fingers dips inside you. You hiss, and his gaze burns into you, his mouth parted with a degree of awe and you think perhaps this is the picture he painted — you, under him, eyebrows pinched together as your hands scramble for purchase on his chest, fighting to remain intact.

But then his thumb brushes up against your clit and you let out a sound — half a moan, half a mewl. Tom doesn't give you a second to recover as his lips come down on yours again, hard, desperate, like he's trying to inhale you. And you let him, you take the little bit of ruin he surrenders in the great expanse of yours.

Even if you could quiet your noises you stand to think Tom would feel them, taste them, bite down on them like he does your lower lip, a second finger coiling into you. Your hand smacks at his wrist, clutching his arm with such intensity you can feel every sinew of his movement as he works away at you. Your legs are trembling, pressing around his waist an act of simultaneous resistance and desperation as you push upwards for friction and conquest.

You find both. Undeniable hunger — how he groans softly against your open mouth, how the imprint against your thigh is hard under his trousers, how he wants you.

His ministrations only intensify when your hand searches for the buckle of his belt, gripping your jaw like he needs to watch you fall apart before you can find parity in your desperation. It isn’t an impossible wish; your mind is hazy at the push and pull of his fingers, curving where his thumb draws ceaselessly on the other side, and you think, as much as you’re able right now, that he could succeed. But you force your eyes open to the space where your hand is wedged between your bodies, yanking hastily at his belt and sighing into his shoulder as it unfastens.

His trousers are unbuttoned, unzipped, and you’re arching into him with laboured pants even when your hand slips past them to find skin you've never travelled before.

Tom’s motions stagger when your fingers brush experimentally over his length, and you suddenly understand his ardent focus. You can’t help but stare at the way his jaw ticks, a hiss parting through gritted teeth, and the fact that you’re doing this to him is almost enough to push you over the edge. You grip him in one hand, and his fingers move again like some act of defiance, tightening his hold on your jaw. And then you’re pumping slowly, carefully, the only way you think to with the intention of pleasing him. Of weakening him.

He turns your head so you’re gasping into the pillow, neck exposed for him to press his mouth to. His teeth and tongue are on you and your hand slips from him for a moment as you shudder. Fuck him. This isn’t enough. You won't lose like this.

You tug at his waistcoat now, snapping open the buttons until the last few are clinging on by cheap threads. You’ll buy him that suit, you think. One that you can shrug off as fervently as you like without worrying about tearing the seams.

Your removal of his shirt is not aided by the swelling fire inside you, how the attention of his fingers has remained steady through your squirming and it feels like it’s culminating to something fatal. Your fingers grow shakier but don't stop their pursuit until every button is undone and you can soothe their trembling by pressing your palms against the warm expanse of his chest.

And then they’re back in his trousers, pushing them down his thighs as he continues to chip away at you. You bite back moans and blink through your dizziness.

Tom stops, and it might be more devastating than if he hadn’t. Your body is taut, a fine, thrumming wire spared a moment before snapping.

“More,” is all you say, tracing the shape of him through his briefs.

“More?” he asks. There’s a small mercy in the rasp within in his voice, the uncertainty despite himself. “I suppose that means I win.”

“Win?” 

His gall almost, almost pulls you back to reality. But he’s — he’s pulling his trousers further down and your body, like some separate entity to your mind, is flush against him when he’s finally free of all obstructions. 

“Mhm,” he hums, and almost-reality dwindles away into fucking nothing — disappears before your eyes when he brings his finger to his tongue and tastes you.

You tear him back to your mouth with a sound that so desperate your humility shouldn’t be able to take it but that's all gone now. His lips are wet and swollen and you’re adjusting yourself so his hips are lined with yours, and your head rolls back when he positions himself against your core and stays there.

“I win,” you breathe. “Everything else is just—”

He moves, hands on your waist as he presses ever-so-slightly inside you. You clutch wildly at his arms, your eyes wrenching shut.

“Look at me,” he says softly. His thumb caresses your cheek as if any act of his acts of tenderness are at all actually tender and not depraved requests for your resignation. 

You shake your head. “It’s ju-just—”

He sinks further, unhurried, and you feel like crying, your body clenching around him as the pressure deepens.

“Just what?” he asks, peppering kisses along your jaw.

“Just… um, just…”

“Hm?”

“I win... s’just… cheating…”

You feel him smiling against your neck, and then he detaches his lips to observe you, nodding with false sympathy. “You win.”

And he shifts himself forward so he’s pushed to the hilt. 

It’s a lie. It’s a lie as Tom holds you against him, carving kisses into your skin that burn, as you shudder a moan into the thick, hot air, as he begins to move rhythmically inside you, your fingers digging crescent moons into his spine and dragging.

You don't win.

If you are steel honed over years, it’s this moment that you melt, and you think if you were to be fused again it would be in a different shape.

And you mean that. You honestly feel liquified when he splits you slow like this, rolling his hips as you cling to him for strength like he isn’t the thing shattering you. 

You rock to meet him, you bury your nails in his back, you rest your moans with your teeth in his shoulder — whatever you can think to make this fair. Make true to your word. You are going to break, it's true, but you are going to break Tom Riddle too.

“Fingers,” you mutter, far too much of a demand for the way it almost stumbles into a sob, but Tom makes a strained sound in the back of his throat as if it gratifies him that you want it enough to ask.

“Thank me,” he answers on a harsh exhale.

You bite at his collar, shaking your head, but your legs are starting to shake and you wouldn’t ask if it was something you wanted — you mask it as an order because you need it. Because you imagine what he’s doing now combined with his thumb on your clit and it’s enough to make your abdomen clench just thinking about it.

Instead one of your hands forsakes the sweet curve of his muscles every time he thrusts into you so that it can snake between your own legs, and you mimic his earlier ministrations just long enough to drive a moan from your lips before Tom’s eyes dart from your lips, the rise and fall of your chest, to the hand missing from his back.

He grabs it with a scowl, pinning one wrist and then the other above your head.

“Stubborn,” he hisses, and he buries himself inside you like it's something personal, persistent in his strokes when his fingers finally rub over you how you wanted.

And you know you’ve done it when his head falls on your shoulder and you feel yourself tighten around him. His grip on your wrists is punishing. His mouth on your shoulder is stringent. He’s hard and full inside you and his fingers slide against you in delicate, torturous contrast. You know because it all stutters a bit when you pull him into a kiss, when you know you’re about to plummet into oblivion and he’s gripping you through it like you might steady him — like you aren’t the thing shattering him.

When you do, it’s something visceral. You think you might be spinning, or floating — screaming, maybe — spilling ill-mannered expletives in strings with his name because your hands are still trapped under his and your body can do nothing else. What you know, undoubtedly, is that you’re coming down from it for a long time, in a haze when you manage to breathe the words into his ear. “Thank you.”

Tom breaks. It’s the most beautiful you think he’s ever looked; eyebrows cinched and pink mouth parted, hair mussed like you wanted, neck tense as he stills inside you and you feel every part of him let go.

Your legs are too weak to cling to him through it, and you just pant under him, blinking languidly and in awe.

You stay like that for a long time.

He leans in when he finally pulls out of you, kissing you like one form of contact must be replaced with another. It's the same with his hands. He sinks into the space beside you and releases your wrists just to cup your face instead.

Yours come up instantly and shamelessly to his hair, craving nothing more than to curl your fingers through the dark mess of it. You trace the sharp shape of his cheeks, too, like his did to yours, like you need to memorize the lines of his expression and the heat of his skin before the world outside seeps in and it all goes cold.

But you pull away and you can't imagine it will.

There’s something in his eyes that feels new. Longing like he’s shed all pretence of acting like nine years of treading the lines of this rivalry has ever been anything but a pathetic display, like he knows you've shed it too. It makes you catch your breath to think this is what it feels like to be desired by Tom Riddle; that you desire him all the same; all this time.

“You know,” you say, and your voice sticks dry to your mouth, “I still win.”

He shakes his head. He smiles. You want terribly to kiss him again.

“I’ll just have to find something else to best you in, won’t I?”

You pretend like you’re considering it and not just staring at him. 

“I think by Christmas would be fair.”

#tom riddle #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle x you #tom riddle x y/n #tom riddle smut #tom marvolo riddle #voldemort #voldemort x reader #tom riddle imagine #tom riddle oneshot #harry potter fanfiction #wizarding world

[cerezzzita]

Hi, i saw you have your request open so here i go, requesting some hcs for Dante, Vergil and Trish having a short sweet-toothed s/o who also loves to bake.

notes: heeey there, anon! In advance sorry for the waiting, it took long enough but at least here we are! I hope you like it, because I surely did loved writing these headcanons, and with Trish being included? Better than ever!

Enjoy the reading and thanks for requesting! <3

⠀🍓 ˖ . ᵎᵎ Dante, Vergil & Trish with a short sweet-toothed S/O

♡ tags: gender-neutral reader, no use of pronouns (you/yours only), no description of reader's appearance, short!reader, use of petnames, three devils being soft af, Vergil and Trish might have been sorta ooc pardon in advance.

ⓘ gif's not mine!!

Dante

Perfect match, to be honest.

Calls you "shortcake" or "shortie" most of the time and if you're annoyed by that… he'll keep doing it, sorry. He loves you enough to annoy you as well. 

Being as sweet-toothed as he is, no wonder he'll ask you constantly to make some desserts with strawberries or red fruits in general such as raspberries or cherries. 

And please don't let Dante get one inch near the kitchen, this man will eat as many of the berries plus he's catastrophic at cooking.

At least let him add some of the ingredients and mix them together here and there, he'll be satisfied and happy enough. 

He'll eat the batter when you're not looking, by the way. 

Still on the ingredients topic, doesn't this bitch (affectionately) loves when you ask him for help to reach something you can't? He's all smugly smirks, towering you with that huge figure of his and in the best of the cases, lifting you so you can reach it by yourself. 

Dante's personal favorite dessert made by you became The Devil's Cake, but instead of being fulfilled of chocolate only, there's lots and lots of strawberry jam and fresh strawberries on top of it. 

Late night munchies are a must! You two can and will be watching whatever series or movies while cuddling and devouring almost all of a whole damn bakery because Dante has a black hole instead of a regular stomach. 

Saw a recipe for dessert pizza once, got obsessed with it, asked you to make it, you made it, he's even more in love with you. 

"Babe, you're a sweetheartie. A candy angel, I love you so much," said Dante, mouth full of sweet pizza and eyes full of tears of joy and passion. 

ⓘ gif's not mine!!

Vergil

Vergil strikes me as a cinnamon roll enjoyer. That's it, that's the post. 

But really, I don't think he has a sweet-tooth or enjoys sugary foods that much. He likes it, sure, but at moderate bits. 

Unlike Dante, he does not make fun of your height… Yet he finds it quite endearing. 

Calls you "little bird". Let me have him be affectionate and lovely for a sec, okay? 

Vergil also gets worried by the amount of sugar you consume. 

"You'll get plenty of cavities if you keep eating desserts at that level." 

He helps you with your recipes too. I'm kinda sure that Vergil knows a thing or two in the cooking field, correct me if I'm wrong (I am wrong). 

As previously said, he likes more, hm, refined flavors, such as cinnamon and vanilla and if you're baking cinnamon rolls, count him on it! 

Don't ask Vergil to chop the ingredients unless you want him to put on a show about it. 

If you like drinking tea, you better prepare a bunch of sweet treats because you're having regular, calm silent tea evenings ft. Vergil and his poetry book. 

ⓘ gif's not mine!!

Trish

Oh my, what can I say about Trish?

She's not a sugary-sweet person. Instead, she's mostly on sour candies and neutral fruits field. 

With that being said, I hope you're ready to constantly bake lemon pies and banana cakes. 

Trish does not know how to cook for her dear life, she prefers watching you instead and maybe teasing you along with it.

"Trish, I could use a little hand." "Pardon me if I can't help but think you're all cute on your own, sugar."

Speaking of teasing, this devil surely knows how to make you fluster with her little comments about your height, but of course, always keeping it comfortable enough to not get you mad or sad. 

"Need some help there, honeypie?" "My, if you ever get trouble reaching that shelf, you need to wear some of my heels."

And although Trish is not your sous chef, she is certainly your personal tasting critic, which is an advantage mostly to her. 

"So, what do you think?" "Hm, I liked the caramel on top of the fruit, and it's sour just in the way I love. It's a ten out of ten, honey." 

Brought you some silly clothes like sweaters and shirts with some candy motif and oh, sure, fruity flavored lip gloss. 

Anything for her honeybun~

cerezzzita©, 2023 · all rights reserved ⓘ do not edit, copy, steal or claim as yours | reblogs and comments are appreciated!

#devil may cry #dmc #devil may cry headcanons #dmc headcanons #devil may cry x reader #dmc x reader #dante #vergil #trish #dmc dante #dmc vergil #dmc trish #dante sparda x reader #vergil sparda x reader #dmc trish x reader #gender neutral reader #reader insert #x reader #dante x reader #vergil x reader #trish x reader #dante sparda #vergil sparda #devil may cry fanfiction #devil may cry imagines

[niki-phoria]

Hello! Me again if you write fallen angel aesthetic on pinterest you can find it. Ty again <3

pairing: chishiya x gn!reader (no pronouns used) genre: fluff (??) word count: 1.3k

summary: playing tag with chishiya

warnings: slightly ooc chishiya, canon typical violence, probably not canon complaint, i've written tag so many times and i'm never consistent with it lmao, mentions of blood/death, not really romance (??) he holds your hand at the end idk

a/n: thank you for requesting !! i hope you like it :))

additional note: tbh i still don't really know what that means ?? pinterest just has pics of the wong kar wai movie (great film btw go watch it) and i couldn't figure out how to incorporate that but i remember your first ask having something about dark humor (at least i hope it did) so i tried to add that in but idk how well it comes across

requests open !! read my rules first

the night air is cold as you lean back against the wall next to chishiya. you can faintly hear the music playing from his earbuds. he keeps his head low, hood pulled fully over this face as he silently observes the other players around you. 

you lean over to nudge him, making him take an earbud out. “give me one.” chishiya raises an eyebrow at you, slowly handing you the left side of his headphone. “i want a cool soundtrack playing in the background while i die.” 

you can see the nervous looks from the other players though you ignore them as two more men walk up to the table. they each silently grab a phone, signing in before stepping aside next to the staircase. “excuse me,” a man approaches them. he’s wearing a blue t-shirt underneath a blue flannel shirt. he holds his phone in his hands, anxiously looking down at it before back up at the men. “could you help me? i don’t know what’s going on.” 

“you have a visa, on the phone,” one of the men begins. his dark, shaggy hair is nearly blocking his eyes. he’s wearing a pair of black sweatpants and a light blue jacket. “you have to win the games to earn more visa days.” 

next to him, his friend harshly elbows his side. “are you crazy?” his hair is bleached blonde, though it looks brassy in the dim lighting. “we don’t know him.” 

his friend’s eyes widen before he slinks back to his side. the man who asked for their help nervously looks around before an announcement begins. “registration closed. game: tag. difficulty: five of spades. rules: find the button in a safe zone within the time limit while avoiding a tagger. game clear: a player presses the button in the safe zone. game over: the time limit is reached or the tagger eliminates all players. the tagger will begin moving in five minutes.”

you push up off of the wall, handing the earbud back to chishiya. he takes it, shoving his makeshift taser into his pocket. “let the fun begin,” you murmur.

you follow chishiya to the elevator, getting off on the ninth floor. he leans over the balcony edge, staring down at the other players. “we can see everyone from up here.” 

you look over the edge, watching as they nervously look around. “they all look like they’re about to die.” 

“as usual.” chishiya hums. 

at first, time passes somewhat uneventfully. the tagger is wearing a horse mask to cover their head and face. their footsteps are heavy as they make their way through the various hallways in the apartment building, shooting at anyone they see along the way.

a woman in a pink tank top jumps down onto a balcony before pushing her body up over the edge. “a climber,” chishiya murmurs. “interesting.” 

two women stand in the middle of a hallway. the tagger raises their gun to aim when they see them. the climber is quick to jump back down onto a lower floor before hoisting her body over the edge and hiding behind the wall of the building. 

gunfire sprays at the two women she left behind. one of them falls to the floor immediately. her friend drops to her knees beside her, shaking her lifeless body. she sobs, standing back up. “i’ll kill you!” the tagger doesn’t react, instead shooting at her again. she also falls next to her friend in a pool of blood. 

“at least the tagger is a bad shot.” you mumble. 

“we can use that to our advantage.” chishiya says. you hum. 

the tagger looks down over the edge of the balcony in a pitiful attempt to look for the woman. across the building, the man in blue you saw at the beginning of the game pulls at a door. the tagger raises their gun up over the edge and fires repeatedly at him. he crouches down, hiding behind the balcony. 

another man crawls over to him, helping him up and forcing him to run behind the wall. the tagger stops firing at them almost immediately. “that must be where the safe room is.” chishiya observes. 

the tagger continues moving through the building, going down into the stairwell. for a few minutes, the only things that can be heard are the gunshots that echo throughout the building. you watch as the same man wearing a blue jacket who saved someone earlier runs through the hallway, frantically pulling at the handles of locked apartment doors. he stops, leaning over the edge of the balcony. “we can win this if we work together!” he pleads. “no one else has to die! help me win the game!” 

“it’s a good idea,” chishiya sighs. “too bad it’ll never work. not here.” 

the man continues frantically pulling at the doors. next to you, chishiya stands up so he’s not leaning against the balcony. he pushes the hood off of his head. “that should be long enough.” 

you silently follow after him as you make your way down the stairwells to the fourth floor. the man in blue pulls on one of the handles, nearly flinching back when the door actually opens. he rushes into the room, quickly followed by the tagger. 

gunshots ring out, a spray hitting the door and wall around the room. chishiya pulls the door closed, holding it shut. you lean against the wall next to him. you can hear grunts from inside of the room before the man yells out again. “there are two buttons!” you let out a bitter laugh. 

“seriously?” chishiya mumbles. he cracks the door open, letting you see inside of the room. the gun is on the floor, away from both the man and the tagger. 

a woman hoists herself up over the edge of the window, leaning in. “you called?” she pants. 

“hey!” chishiya slides the taser across the floor to her. she wrestles the tagger to the ground, pressing the taser against their side. jolts run through their body as the convulse, falling to the ground. 

the man clambers to his feet, pointing up. “the button!” 

the woman gasps, launching herself at the button on the left side. the man does the same to the right, pressing it simultaneously as her. you stand, following chishiya into the room. they lay on the floor, panting. the timer on the wall shines bright. “00:01.” 

the man lets out a sigh of relief, laying his head down on the ground. the tagger sits up against the corner. their horse mask has been knocked off, revealing their face - a woman. her hair has been tied back into a ponytail behind her. she’s wearing a collar around her neck. 

desperately, she pitifully pulls at the collar. it beeps before exploding, coating the walls and floor in red. you grimace, looking down at yourself. your jacket is covered in blood, stained from her death. “damn,” you sigh. “i really liked this one.” 

the woman is the first to leave, disappearing out of the window the same way she arrived. the man stares at her body in horror for a few minutes before he rushes out of the room. chishiya kneels down next to her body, searching through the various pockets of her suit. you step away from the pool of blood, trying to clean it from the bottom of your shoes. 

“huh,” he mumbles. 

“what is it?” chishiya holds up a small piece of paper. you lean over his shoulder to see it better. drawn in black ink is a circle with various lines running through it. 

“at least we’re not leaving with nothing.” you murmur. 

“let’s get back to the beach,” chishiya stands, subtly reaching over to grab your hand. he shoves the paper into his pocket, leading you out of the room. “it must be important. now, we just need to figure out why.” 

#chishiya x reader #aib x reader #chishiya fluff #aib fluff #chishiya x male reader #aib x male reader #chishiya drabble #chishiya imagine #chishiya scenario #chishiya one shot #chishiya x you #chishiya x y/n #aib x you #aib x y/n #aib drabble #aib scneario #aib one shot #aib imagine #alice in borderland x male reader #alice in borderland x reader #alice in borderland #alice in borderland chishiya #alice in borderland reaction #male reader #gn reader #fem reader #chishiya x gn reader #aib x gn reader #alice in borderland x gn reader

[laylabahiti]

HSHQTASK059: FAREWELL SEE YOU LATER!

when did you join ? what made you join ? what do you remember from the plotlines that were current at the time ? where were you in life when you joined and where are you now ?

i joined september 2016 when this was vikrp! i was a junior in college and had been writing indie rp for a minute before that kinda died down, so i took a peek at the tags. vikrp/haisociety/highsociety had the pairs aspect to it back then, so i fulfilled someone's jade thirlwall wc but they went inactive like right after i was accepted asjdfka. i believe the revamp to haisociety happened in december/january, truly a time to be alive. i started as a junior back then and i'm ending as a junior in my second bachelor's degree💀, a homeowner, and within the next couple years, i'll be married and have a kid*. *tbd when we're both done with school and onto other careers

which characters have you written over the years ?

layla, cameron (early days), tobias (early days), katalina, gabriel, mikolas, alaina, dmitri, juliana, ettore, emerson, tamiko, kaira

what is your favourite plotline that you've been part of ?

too many to choose from! tbh the aslan/layla/olivier triangle was fun just because of the silly ic drama it caused. i'm pretty sure it was during haisociety when i messaged e about layla/olivier, because layla has the "he helped me, i love him" mentality and we just went with it askdfa, not really planning anything or knowing what would come of it. also love the egypt plotline and anytime those siblings interacted. and the early days of barbie and layla's friendship, how barbie pretty much took layla under her wing and got her out of her shell.

what about other people's plotlines ?

definitely the chaos of england and the murder mystery event. if i remember any more i'll edit this jaksdf

who is your favourite character from the ones you've played ? why ? what made you love them ? what made them so fun to write ?

no surprise here but layla. in the early days, layla was meek to the point she hardly spoke, took everything literally, and asked too many questions. she developed her voice and learned to be a little selfish in the later years, but she's still a crier.

if you could relive a plotline, which would it be ?

the greek invasion. it might have been one of the most well-constructed events i have been a part of. i remember traveling during it and writing replies on my phone just so i didn't miss out. every character was affected one way or another, and that event was a turning point in layla's personality.

is there a plotline that you'd edit now if you could ?

i wouldn't necessarily say edit, but it'd be interesting to see how things would've panned out if layla kissed olivier back and still felt guilty enough to tell aslan.

what's a plotline you wish you would have been able to finish before closing or just write more of ?

egypt<3 getting to see amon's coronation and both of them trying to rectify the family's image. life got way too chaotic over the past year, but i love mine and lina's headcanons

what is your favourite ooc memory ?

late 2018, someone kept sending rude/hateful anons to muns and the main, and everyone banded together to keep hshq alive and well. i submitted a whole essay to the main with my comments not thinking the admins would actually post it and they DID, 2018 was an interesting time here. also in the early days when we started listing how all characters were connected and making full circles of connections, simpler times.

where can others find you if they want to get in touch ?

you can always reach me on discord! i'm in the hshq server so feel free to add me or message anytime. i have a few socials if you want those as well - if this is farewell, you've earned my real name ajkdlfj. tbh this is probably my tumblr exit, i don't have much time or mental capacity to write full threads and join something new, but this blog will remain.

what else would you like to say ?

hshq is truly the only reason i've stuck around tumblr this long. almost 8 years of my life has been spent communicating with you all! in some of my worst moments, i was able to turn to hshq and escape reality for a bit. i feel like i'm missing a lot but trying to dig up memories from 8 years ago is difficult lol.

#hshqtask059 #my brain is not computing. i did my best <3

[ask-the-suite]

> Hello! I am BOS. I'm sure you're wondering why you are recieving this broadcast. Well, I have been tasked by my group leader to inform you all that we are opening communications!

> Here is a list of us, to help any unfamiliar:

US (She/Her)

[Undefined Serenity]

Group Leader

TFS (He/Him)

[Three Flaming Spires]

Lead Researcher

SUS (He/They)

[Seven Undying Souls]

Maintenance Iterator

BOS (They/Them)

[Bright of Silhouette]

Comms Manager

> I will be delegating all incoming messages and sending out responses. And I will do my best not to accidentally peek in on sent broadcasts! Feel free to ask anything of us. I look forward to meeting you!

Rules vv

Hello! This is Void (@luci-datum), OOC to talk about some rules and base concepts.

First off - my canon is a little messy. Here are a few TWs that you can expect going into the lore or experiencing the story:

- Depictions of trauma, mental illness, abuse and manipulation

- Body horror/Mutilation

- Iterator experimentation

- Animal cruelty/experimentation

- Death

- Dark themes

The story is chronological, and you will be able to tell where we are off the pfp of this page. If you are unsure of what I mean by this, don't worry it will be cleared up later. That does however mean that some characters may become unavailable to speak with, however momentarily. I will do my best to keep things flowing smoothly, however.

RULES:

1) Please specify who you are asking. If you do not specify, I will choose one for you. I may also include other interactions with characters as well. Idk i find that fun

2) I will not answer asks that are NSFW.

3) Please try not to break asks into multiple posts.

4) No magic posts (IE: "I want to turn x into an animal"), but you can give characters items.

Rules may be added or changed.

5) IF YOU ARE AWARE OF THE STORY, please do not spoiler it for others. There are other characters that are brought up and added later, though these are exclusively animals and companions at the given moment.

6) I will not answer asks regarding your own OCs. I do not know them, and I do not have the capacity to remember every single one.

Non-Ask Posts

Sometimes, and especially if the story is reaching a critical moment, I will post things without asks being involved. These will be tagged as such.

Tags

#funny for silly goofy fun

#serious for serious posts

#tw for potentially triggering posts (see tw list at the top of the break)

#lore for lore and worldbuilding

#serene for US posts

#spires for TFS posts

#souls for SUS posts

#bright for BOS posts

#ooc for out of character, update or admin posts

#mod ask for asking me uwu

#fanart for fanart

#mod art for reblogs of art by me

Please be kind, respectful, and have fun!

FAQ goes here if I need to add it

Not giving personalities here is purposeful, I would like people to meet them as if it was in character. Just a silly preference I suppose.

[eternallyqiqi]

"Oh, hello Traveller...are you hurt...? Qiqi...will help you..."

Qiqi is a small child from Bubu Pharnacy who helps out Baizhu. Her memory isn't that great, but she carries around a notebook with her to help with that.

Rules

-NO nsfw. Not even suggestive themes. Not a minor personally but qiqi (in my eyes) is a child. Get a grip on yourself.

-Don't be an asshole. We get it, you lost your 50/50 to qiqi, no need to find a random qiqi rp account to complain about it.

-LGBTphobic, Radfems, or otherwise (hateful of any protected group)will be blocked. OP is a trans man and gets misgendered enough and is tired of it.

-Give me at most 48 hours to respond to your ask, if I dont reply by then you can resend it. If your unsure then just ask me. I'm very busy xd

-Dont DM me unless we're mutuals on @barbatoskisser or @thewindstale. No offense, I just dont like being dmed by randos. Yes i will be checking if I dont remember.

-List your pronouns on your bio or in your first ask as an anon! This helps me, and any other potiential others, refer to you correctly. Wouldnt want any misgendering. Eh? XD

-^ above rule does not apply to you if your a character anon. (Ex: venti, i will refer to you with the pronouns your character has. If you headcannon otherwise or just dont like those pronouns, lmk! <3

-I can do descriptive roleplay AND simplified. I will automatically copy your roleplay style sent in your ask. If you want me to rp a specific way, lmk.("Hi my name is jeffrey." Jeffrey smiled politely. / I'm John, Jeffrey's brother *grumbles*)

-Will use american slang. Sorry, i dont know other slang. Any responses in a language are likely a bit scuffed because of google translate.

-Qiqi can be referred to with she/her, dw. XD if you refer to me, op, use he/him or they/them please~ ♡

Stuff about OP

Names Adin/River, a pleasure! I use he/him and they/them pronouns. I'm 18 and a senior in highschool. I also play the viola and have to keep my grades up, so I'm quite the busy human. If you wanna reach me, just go to @barbatoskisser! I'm (usually) active there from 2:00pm to 9:00pm EST on weekdays and 10am to 11pm on weekends. However sometimes you can catch me during classes chatting away with mutuals if I've finished early (which often happens.)

Anon List

-💬Mint - she/her

-

Tag List

#bubu pharmacy - stuff about bubu pharmacy

#[your name here...] - stuff about you, or its an ask you sent in! Yay! Thia also includea me reblogginf and continuing a roleplay with another rp account.

#patients - asks (but generalized)

#ooc - something ooc happened, oh no :(

#intro - this post right here! Or add-ons to whats been posted here will be under this tag.

#intro #bubu pharmacy #patients #ooc

[redjaybird]

JAY’S RP PLOTTING CHEAT-SHEET

Want new-and-exciting plots for your character? Long to reach out to more of your followers, but don’t know where to start? Fear not! Fill out this form and give your RP partners both present and future all the of juicy jumping off points they need to help you get your characters acquainted.Be sure to tag the players whose characters YOU want more cues to interact with, and repost, don’t reblog! Feel free to add or remove sections as you see fit. Template here.

Mun name(s): Yams Mun pronouns: She/her/they/them, but also don't mind whatever OOC Contact: DMs or D.isco (mutuals/people I vibe with only ask for my d.isco)

Who the heck are my muses anyway:

He's a little shit that causes problems and pisses people off for the heck of it. A bit of an edgelord (is that an understatement?), rude, vulgar, and extremely tough to crack if you want him in friendlier stages. Good luck. He's not going to make it easy for you.

Points of interest:

He has various verses, some things may change depending on what verse things are in. Details in his design are important and have stories behind them. In his main verses, he has extra strengthened abilities and a little extra chaotic surprise, sometimes. He has a lot of anger issues and is really shit at dealing with other emotions, often turning them into anger, too, because he doesn't know how else to handle things. He likes to think of himself as a villain, but really he's more like an anti-hero. And he's got a whole revenge case he's trying to deal out. He's got some emotional issues that he refuses to talk about, and others he will just spill because he likes to talk about himself. And he's got trust issues.

What they’ve been up to recently:

Well, this varies for people and verses. Things won't be following the same paths for everyone he interacts with. In in his main f.c5 verse, he somehow got himself in a position where he's gotta help protect the Seeds, because of the relationship he ended up in with Jacob. Everything in the B.L verses kinda got put on hold, but these days its after his Arena fell. A vampire verse, in the f.c5 land, has been distressing him. Bloody City (original) verse is getting more developments lately (yeehaw). Depends on what version you wanna deal with, really.

Where to find them:

In general modern times, usually Chicago. In the borderlands, usually Pandora. In F.C3, on Rook Islands, hanging with the pirates. In F.C5, Hope County, usually in Jacob's region. Frontier, the pirate is in Montreal in the company of Mr. Grant and Mr. Pond.

Current plans:

Plans? What are plans? We'll have to see what unfolds. Anything could happen.

Desired interactions:

Enemies to awkward found family member, enemies/rivals, slow burns of any kind of relationship (because its almost always a slow burn with him), helping him learn to cook maybe? (his whole fear of stoves and fire issue man), dad bird dad bird dad bird dad bird (has an accidentally adopted daughter in some verses btw), etc.

Offered interactions:

Uh, do you like problematic little shits? Do you like conflict? Stories are boring without conflict, after all. And it makes the good times so much more worth it, you know? If you for some reason want him to work with you, however, the price is gonna be a little different. Because he doesn't care about money.

Current open post/s:

Keep an eye out for random IC posts, they happen a lot, and are generally open to anyone if they don't have a tag. (I don't always tag ic posts but I do always tag any trigger warnings when I think they need it.) Some will have specific verse tags, sometimes, just so you know where things will be focused on but yeah, generally most things are open unless someone specifically gets @'d on.

Anything else?:

[I'm not super great at writing, and am especially bad at describing things in words, but Jay will make up for a lot in dialogue because he loves talking. Interactions can inspire art, lots of drawing going on here. Also things never stop developing. I've been running this character for 12+ years now and I'm still developing him.]

Tagging: whoev's wants to do this thing go for it, i tried

#jay info #blog info #ooc #long post

[rebelgodking]

Emilie Smith’S RP PLOTTING CHEAT-SHEET

Want new-and-exciting plots for your character? Long to reach out to more of your followers, but don’t know where to start? Fear not! Fill out this form and give your RP partners both present and future all the of juicy jumping off points they need to help you get your characters acquainted. Be sure to tag the players whose characters YOU want more cues to interact with, and repost, don’t reblog! Feel free to add or remove sections as you see fit. Template here.

Mun name: Monroe OOC Contact: either inbox, or tumblr I.M., I don't have a discord

Who the heck is my muse anyway:

👑 💀 In a nutshell, Emilie is a pure demon, meaning she is (aside from other old ones ,and a small percentage of old demons) the top of the food chain. Created by magic rituals ,and a sacrifice of the bloodline, a Cressida Flora Priest , The plans of making perfect hosts for the old ones failed. ++ Emilie is over 10,000 years old, the equivalent of a young adult, in (old one ) demon years. Aside from her age, she is the Illyria's blood, (and the decedent of Fjölnir Freyrson ). ++ She's a demon that plays by her own rules. And cares not for what other demons think of her. *her Owl & Knight version is different, in a small, but noticeable way

Points of interest:

Other supernatural beings could feel confused,etc by her appearance, since she smells like an old one ,but looks very human. Though ,some ,at first might not feel like shes a threat. Since she never hides she's a demon, and shes too lazy to put on any aura of being a threat. ++ She smokes, but never around children, mothers, and anyone whos's trying to quit. ++ Her "punk" attire, and as well as her devil may care/un afraid manner

What they’ve been up to recently:

++ Post the show, she's either still not sure how to spend her time. Her lifespan is infinite. She splits her time with investigating supernatural stuff. Or just doing nothing to traveling. It depends on which main verse, btvs, bprd, or owl & knight

Where to find them:

pre-sunnydale: varies since she was kicked out of a few high schools after her big fight with Eric Dragomir btvs season 1 - 3: Sunnydale,CA btvs s4+/angel s1 - 3: L.A , CA, USA misc: The Whistler 'sanctuary' manor/house (location varies), B.P.R.D. buildings (bprd verse) , at the Inferno Bar, Caritas , Hyperion Hotel, -

Current plans:

++ Truthfully ,I've never thought of events from post btvs to her 'feared & revered' verse. Which is more than a 1,000 years after an apocalypse. In which she is one of the ruling demons ,and a god to some humans' (and maybe some non-human beings) ++ She's mainly procrastinating going though the stuff she inherited from the Whistler House in Sunnydale, which is something I also what to thread out.

Desired interactions:

++ Just Emilie flirting with other ,single, demons, or other supernatural beings (have you not seen her type tag). She prefers demons to humans. Also friends, colleagues getting after, or teasing her about flirting with demons. Basically not huge on the enemies relations. but I am big on found family. My one endgame ship is with Eddie Hope, this is still an idea. Not sure who's her "endgame" ship. ++ Slice of life stuff, hanging out , late night research into some supernatural mystery ++ Going on cases ,with other agents, either in her Hellboy verse or owl and knight verse

Offered interactions:

++ its a running gag is anything supernatural ,at least once, smells Emilie. Either cause she looks way to human to smell like a pure demon, or some other reason. ++ Just this plot, like jumaji but more elf, DnD type thing. I have starter call for it,and a tag ++ Her just actually being her her demon form, even if humans, and most beings can't understand what she's saying in that form.

Current open post/s:

(Insert links here, if you have any). open starters || memes | bingo meme ||

Anything else?:

I use the weekends to take a break from all things R.P. And focus on relaxing or work on any projects I have. And it takes me a while to open up, cause the whole OC thing. As well as an oc who's related to a canon

Tagging: @bewitchingbaker , @parainvestigate & @giftedeath (plus anyone who would find this usefull) (tagged by: @obscurushydrae )

#(dash games;;)

[general-kalani]

(CHARACTER NAME)’S RP PLOTTING CHEAT-SHEET

Want new-and-exciting plots for your character? Long to reach out to more of your followers, but don’t know where to start? Fear not! Fill out this form and give your RP partners both present and future all the of juicy jumping off points they need to help you get your characters acquainted. Be sure to tag the players whose characters YOU want more cues to interact with, and repost, don’t reblog! Feel free to add or remove sections as you see fit. Template here.

Mun name(s): Kalani, General, Killer (gamer name lmfao) Mun pronouns: Any I don't mind!! OOC Contact: Discord (ask if we're moots!) & tumblr ims

Who the heck are my muses anyway:

My muselist is a little all over the place! If the bio to each character doesn't cut it, ask me instead for how they are! Most are military, few are ex-military, one's a horse, there's a cult leader in amongst all of it. You name it, I probably have it.

Points of interest:

Some of them are kinda boring (in my opinion LMFAO) and most of the weird shit is from the Far Cry muses, the kinda cooler ones imho are the zombie-genre ones. Check them all out anyway I recommend it <3

What they’ve been up to recently:

The most important character arc for Voice right now, is acceptance at the fact that no matter what he does he can't change history when it comes to Joseph. What's done is done. The other most important character arc is for Joseph and that's just realising he's traumatised and seeking therapy that "actually works". Lots of others ofc on the blog but those two are the main ones lmfao-

Where to find them:

Most can be found in America! Some (Dead Island) can be found on Banoi. In SBY some can be found floating in space between Gamilas and Earth. Borderlands it's a wildcard on where they'll be you'd have to check bios on that lmfao. Expedition characters are on Darwin IV, but can also be dragged to other places! Far Cry 3 is on two islands, depending on North or South island, will decide on who you meet. Far Cry 4 is the same deal, only taking place in Kyrat! New Dawn is a post-Apocalyptic America. Far Cry 6 takes place in Yara. Protect the boy if you go there! Frontier is an 18th century historical drama for America/Canada. I only care about Cobbs/Grant though- RAGE is a post-apocalyptic world once again. Which world? Yes. Silver Brumby actually takes place in Australia but Brolga is a helluva fun muse to interact with!

Current plans:

Specific upcoming arcs are hard to think of when I keep changing my characters, how they act, etcetc, but there is one exploring how Joseph became the Voice, I'm just figuring out how to do it :3

Desired interactions:

Enemies to lovers, lovers to enemies, lovers to enemies to lovers, friends to lovers, enemies to-

Offered interactions:

All depends on the character one is interested in! Remember to look at the bios for each character. For example as a leader, there better be a good reason someone would want to meet Dessler and Joseph Seed. As an important person someone needs a good reason to meet a military figure like Gimleh, Ryder, Knoxx, etc. Just find the one that works for you!

Current open post/s:

My open starters, starter calls and plotting calls are here for your leisure to click on <3

Anything else?:

Rq, as I'm Australian (Queensland) don't expect me to be awake at your time I am an eepy gal that's typically awake at 10am-11am to 11pm-12am Other info you'll need though; interest tracker, muselist, rp rules, rp prompts and this rp guide I did a while ago (plus an RP plot idea prompt)

Tagging: Whoever wants to do this <3

#{ out of the empire } ~ ooc #the general speaks #dash games

[stellevatum]

KAR ALOR'ADE’S RP PLOTTING CHEAT-SHEET

Want new-and-exciting plots for your character? Long to reach out to more of your followers, but don’t know where to start? Fear not! Fill out this form and give your RP partners both present and future all the of juicy jumping off points they need to help you get your characters acquainted. Be sure to tag the players whose characters YOU want more cues to interact with, and repost, don’t reblog! Feel free to add or remove sections as you see fit. Template here.

Mun name:

OOC Contact:  Tumblr DMs or discord on request!

Who the heck is my muse anyway:

The cosmos/Force in "human" form; she lives many lives and holds many jobs, but mainly is a Fixer. She has her own little network of "friends" and knows how to use them.

Points of interest:

If she's not wearing a helmet/hood/glasses, her eyes. Or her fangs when she talks/smiles. Or the occasional unmasking and showing a lil more neurodivergent traits. Unless you're close friends/family or I write it, assume she speaks in a Coruscanti/Core World accent. Force sensitive muses can somewhat sense her too, but depends on the Era.

What they’ve been up to recently:

Linear time-wise (so 600+ years after her birth), she returned after a walkabout. But since I'm not exactly a linear timed blog I am not sure how to answer this.

Where to find them:

SW: Coruscant, Alderaan, Rishi, Koboh | ME: Citadel, Omega, Tuchanka, Her Colony | BL: Helios, Sanctuary, Opportunity, Promethea

Current plans:

That's up to my partners. I came back to be a casual in character shit post blog. Plots aren't in the forefront but if my partners think of something hype, sure.

Desired interactions:

TanalorrTempleVerseTanalorrTempleVerse

Otherwise I have some ideas for some blogs but I want time to reach out and chat.

Maybe open her to ships again, I dunno. (Unfortunately folks I discussed are gone and I don't want to assume that folks want to continue.) I miss her and the chakaar, but ME blogs are few and far, let alone a not as popular character so probably just gonna drabble it.

Offered interactions:

Need something? Want something? she's an Intel broker/Fixer. For the right price she can help you. Or handle it herself if the situation permits.

She's a diplomat/first contact envoy if you want first contact threads.

She's a scientist, joining an expedition or research facility, etc

She's a rebel, fighting for the people, drawing like minded people to the cause.

Current open post/s:

Guidelines | Bio | (Optional) Interest Checker | Promos

Open Posts Tag | Meme Tag | Calls

Anything else?:

Tagging: @afraidofchange @ofdcthomir @jackdup @companywrath @monmuses @general-kalani and anyone else interested in doing this! (I tagged old followers on the last, so why not new ones this time!)

#nav; #ooc;

[realmyths]

RealMyths Plotting Cheat Sheet

Want new-and-exciting plots for your character? Long to reach out to more of your followers, but don’t know where to start? Fear not! Fill out this form and give your RP partners both present and future all the of juicy jumping off points they need to help you get your characters acquainted. Be sure to tag the players whose characters YOU want more cues to interact with, and repost, don’t reblog! Feel free to add or remove sections as you see fit. Template here.

Mun name: Star

OOC Contact: Ims, ask, discord (starwrites)

Who the heck is my muse anyway:

I'll do it for a few muses of mine

Farryn: That person who's always up for the craziest of adventures, and is also really chill. The literal personification of Adventure.

Ula/Meribella: A siren searching for her sister, Cascadia. Also found by the pool teaching her human job as a swimming instructor.

Cascadia/Christina: Ula's sister, also a siren. Fascinated by humanity. Often found at her job at a diner as a waitress.

Liz: The head witch in charge who is actually just a giant nerd. And also full of mischief.

Joanna: A private detective whose mother is missing.

Alanna: A creative soul at heart, a bestselling author and poet, currently working on a graphic novel. Also super gay.

Jayla: A teacher, always up for learning new things.

The [Redacted] Doctor: The mysterious yet caring time traveler. They are always up for an adventure and for helping those who need it. They need people more than they'll admit. Possibly their last incarnation, possibly not. They don't know. But they have a funny feeling.

Points of interest:

Ula/Meribella & Cascadia/Christina have shorter/no hair in the ocean. The longer they're on land, the more their hair grows. So Cascadia/Christina would have longer hair than Ula/Meribella.

Farryn: Obviously being the personification of Adventure means they're an immortal being so other supernatural/immortal beings could sense that about them.

Liz: Other beings with magic could sense that she is a witch.

What they’ve been up to recently:

Farryn: The usual, bartending in NYC and spreading adventure everywhere they go

Ula/Meribella: searching for her sister, Cascadia

Cascadia/Christina: Working at the diner and trying to learn more about humanity

Liz: V1: searching for the head witches and warlocks, working.

V2: Studying with online college courses, training with a head witch, working.

V3: helping her father at the pawn shop, spending time with her mother, and just practicing her magic.

Alanna: working on her graphic novel.

The Redacted Doctor: traveling time and space with their companion, Esfir.

Where to find them:

Farryn: can be anywhere and everywhere, but especially at their bar in NYC, at parties, anywhere an adventure is taking place

Cascadia/Christina: working at the diner

Liz: working at the restaurant, training with the head witch, the pawn shop in Storybrooke (V3 only),

Alanna: a book store

The Redacted Doctor: can be anywhere, but especially likely to find them in modern day London or the UK in general.

Desired interactions:

Honestly, I'm up for anything. All of my muses could use more friends, lovers, enemies, etc. For Ula/Meribella, maybe a thread where she finds Cascadia/Christina and the two sisters reunite? For Alanna, maybe a thread where someone recognizes her for her work and she is flattered by it.

Open to any and all interactions for all of my muses, though. These are just examples.

Offered interactions:

Farryn, Camille, and Lydia all throw parties, so perhaps a thread where they invite your muse to the party?

Cascadia/Christina: A thread where she's serving your muse at the diner. Or running into them outside of work and trying to subtly learn more about humanity (and possibly failing.)

Liz: I would love to have Liz interact with more magic users and supernatural beings of all kinds. Think that'd be interesting.

The [Redacted] Doctor : A thread where your muse travels with them for a trip? Maybe.

Current open post/s:

Opens/ memes

Anything else?:

For anything else, check my pinned post. I have my calls, my interest tracker, my promo, and rules/muses' info linked on there. <3

Tagged by @obscurushydrae

I tag: @bewitchingbaker, @flownintothesun, @mostmagicals and YOU if you want to do this! <3

#sometimes i see so much beauty i dont think that i can cope (out of character.) #ooc #(ooc.) #(out of character.) #(plotting cheat sheet.) #(mun: dash games.) #(dash games.)

[sofiiel]

I think every fic writer goes OOC to some extent for the sake of the stories we have in our brains, and because everyone perceives characters a little differently, ie me seeing Eddie as a virgin in the show based on a variety of factors, and Steve as only having actually had sex with Nancy and only getting as far as making out with other girls before her but using the 'slutty' girls to build his reputation (bc why else would he have such a problem getting dates after high school if he'd had such game in high school?). But there are limits to believability for me. Like how I don't see Eddie ever doing heroin by any method no matter what, and how I don't believe Billy would ever be a grapist as some fics I've come across have him portrayed nor that he wasn't without positive motives in what he did like trying to protect Max and Lucas from his father's wrath the best he knew how even if he went about it in an unhealthy way.

Tagging it as Special K would definitely help, imo. I can't be the only one who mentally rebels against the idea of Eddie doing anything harder than that, by injection or otherwise.

You're very welcome! I was trying to not come off like a bitch or psycho, or like I'm trying to tell you what you can and can't do in *your* fic. But I also know I'd want to know if something I wrote sat wrong with anyone. <3 ilu

That's very true to, it's in the nature of fanfiction 😊

I'll be sure to go back and do just that. Specific tags make things so much easier for readers to weed out what they don't want to read without getting knee-deep in a fic first.

I can understand that concern, and thank you for that consideration, I do grately appreciate it. You never came off that way, you reached out with your reaction, and it ended up being helpful so I'm extra glad you did 😄

💜 Thank you again for your insights :P helped me know to add an important tag, hehe. I hope you have a good day/evening/night Anon ~ ilu too!

#sofiiel answers #same sweet concerned anon #🥰

[psiamie]

KELLY’S RP PLOTTING CHEAT-SHEET

Want new-and-exciting plots for your character? Long to reach out to more of your followers, but don’t know where to start? Fear not! Fill out this form and give your RP partners both present and future all the of juicy jumping off points they need to help you get your characters acquainted.

Be sure to tag the players whose characters YOU want more cues to interact with, and repost, don’t reblog! Feel free to add or remove sections as you see fit. Template here.

Mun name: Sue.

OOC Contact: Best place to reach me is Discord. Feel free to hit me up for it.

Who the heck is my muse anyway:

Kelly Chambers is a (or rather the) yeoman serving on the Normandy SR-2 during the events of Mass Effect 2. Yes, her role is better suited for a VI considering that it is the 22nd century, but Kelly takes her "unofficially" appointed role as the on-board psychologist seriously. She's usually found at the Galaxy Map, but sometimes seeks refuge in the medbay when handling more sensitive work.

Points of interest:

Uh, if your character hung around the Citadel clubs in the pre-ME1 or so timeline, they might remember Kelly from her shifts at Chora's Den. In ME2, she's typically found on the Normandy or out and about of shore leave. In ME3, she's on the Citadel. Outside of the ME universe...literally anywhere, I'm sure. She'll be your regular-degular civilian in most cases.

What they’ve been up to recently:

That depends on the timeline. By default, trying to survive the chaos that comes along with a motley crew of both humans and aliens. And trying to ensure their sanity remains in check. ...While also keeping hers in check. In ME3, it's...pretty much the same thing, except it's on the Citadel and she's trying to avoid getting assassinated. In alternate universes, I don't really have much fleshed out yet.

Where to find them:

The Normandy, usually. In other cases, the Citadel or Omega.

Current plans:

Aside from the normal default interactions, nothing that have been properly hashed out. But it mostly surrounds Kelly's involvement with Cerberus during the events of ME3.

Desired interactions:

Oh, I have many. And I still haven't gotten the courage to share many of them publicly. Some are in my wishlist tag though.

Offered interactions:

Uh...massages (on the rare occasion). Baked goods. A listening ear. Plausible deniability. ...psychoanalyses.

Current open post/s:

Right here.

Anything else?:

I'm slow af with replying because I'm/I've been going through a phrase of hating my writing, but, by God, I can discuss plots from morning till night.

#;cheat sheet #[watch me edit this before the week is over]

[potofstewie]

I posted 312 times in 2022

That's 312 more posts than 2021!

44 posts created (14%)

268 posts reblogged (86%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@comatosebunny09

@kyojurosfirelilyy

@kyojurosrealwife

@auraee

@gingerspicelattemix

I tagged 63 of my posts in 2022

#stew’s pot of thoughts - 29 posts

#kyojuro rengoku - 12 posts

#rengoku kyojuro - 8 posts

#kny rengoku - 6 posts

#rengoku x reader - 5 posts

#send helppp - 5 posts

#rengoku x black reader - 4 posts

#eren x black reader - 3 posts

#reheated soup - 3 posts

#selfreblog - 3 posts

Longest Tag: 73 characters

#yes this is me publicly admitting i have another one to add to my bd list

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Der Engel miener Träume

Title Translation: The Angel of my dreams.

The lowdown: A frequent dream that Eren Jeager cannot get enough of.

The things to know: Reader is EXPLICITLY black, uses she/her pronouns, Fluff, Yearning, middle of the timeskip Eren (idk how else to describe him but like- a few months after he kissed Historia's hand)

W/C: 1.4k

A/N: Hey hey, this one is one of those spur of the moment ideas that I decided to expand upon GREATLY. One thing that helped inspire this fic was my fellow black fanfic readers and writers. I wanted this to basically be an ode to my black (aot) fandom members. I should probably start posing these to my AO3 but idkk yet. ANYWAY ENJOY MWUAH

See the full post

23 notes - Posted December 6, 2022

#4

ok so- i was in the middle of rewatching euphoria and a angsty (is intense a better word?) fic idea came into my head:

what if, rengoku just absolutely snaps about his dad. not necessarily cussing him out (although that could work) but just venting to y/n over a bottle or two of sake. And y/n is lowkey frightended over how aggressive his speech is talking about him but just being a caring and listening gf

31 notes - Posted November 10, 2022

#3

Confide in Me

The lowdown: An angry and battered boyfriend, a scared yet concerned girlfriend and a $2.58 pack of frozen peas

MEGA HUUUUGE SHOUTOUT TO @auraee FOR HELPING ME WITH THE CONCLUSION CAUSE A CHICK WAS LOST

Word Count: 2.8k

Pairing: Rengoku x Black Reader (other readers are welcomed)

The things to know: VERYYY OOC Kyojuro, Blood, Smoking, Mentions of Child Abuse, Physical Abuse (kyojuro and shinjuro), Angst, yelling, swears, Eating as a coping mechanism (Kyojuro), a pack of frozen sweet peas

A/N: Oh, my, GOOOD. I hate how long this took and I'm sorry for how long it took. I got sick with something and I couldn't figure out for the life of me how to end this properly. I was also on the verge of deleting this numerous times to just write a version in the canon setting but I didn't want this to go to waste. I'm so grateful for @auraee for looking at the conclusion and giving me confidence. Big ups my g I think after this, I'm gonna redo my masterlist and then finally move on to another baby daddy of mine (I'm fighting between Haganezuka and Eren.) Also can you tell that I finally figured out how to indent texts? lmao

See the full post

93 notes - Posted November 25, 2022

#2

Morning Person

A/N: This is a small thing that I whipped up after seeing this drawing on pintrest. This is my first writing post so I hope the errors aren't so bad.

Established Relationship, Rengoku x Reader, Fluff

"C'mon Kyo, you gotta get up." You shook your boyfriend gently as you whined. Today was a beautiful day and you wanted to make the most of it since Kyojuro finally had a day off. A deep, disgruntled groan left the large lump in the futon, blond hair with red tips peeking out from under the covers. "I don't get it, you're always a ball of energy! How on earth are you like this in the morning?!" 

You sighed loudly as the lump shuffled, trying to find a more comfortable position. A few low grumbles and whines errupted from the covers, a pitiful and indecipherable argument your boyfriend gave to you as his hand reached from under the bedding and fixed the sheets over his head. You watched silently as his body finally relaxed, a foot sticking out from the cocoon. "Kyojuro, today is so lovely out. Me and Senjuro wanna go fishing and we want you to tag along. C'moooon." You shook him again, this time more harshly but alas, he didn't budge. 

"I plan on bringing my sweet potato pie, and Senjuro is taking salt grilled bream with us as well. There's way too much food for the both of us to eat. But, we can always give the leftovers to your father..." You taunted, hoping that the mentions of his favorite food would stir the Flame Hashira. After a few pensive seconds, a loud sigh released from the futon, with the disheveled creature slowly sitting up. Kyojuro's tired eyes looked at you with his wild eyebrows furrowing and a slight frown on his face. His bright mane sticking out in all directions, some of it sticking to his face. "Are you finally gonna come with us?" You asked, hopefully. 

Kyojuro grunted, scratching his stomach. "Fine, in five minutes." He grumbled before harshly diving into the covers once more.

"Kyojuro!!" 

119 notes - Posted November 8, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Ask Again

The Low Down: A love story about a question that takes many forms but is always asked.

Word Count: 637

Pairing: Rengoku x Reader

The things to know: AFAB!Reader, fluff, slight angst, reader playfully insults

A/N: Aight, so this has been sitting in my head for like two days straight until I woke up in a cold sweat to write a really rough draft in my phone at 4am. However I'm glad that this is finally freed from the shackles of my mind.

See the full post

185 notes - Posted November 11, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

[pollychatter-moved]

housekeeping !

Hey hey, it's Rose (she/her) here! A little info on myself: I am latina (hispanic and honduran!) and I reside in a cosy little cave in the american eastern timezone.

Just wanted to drop some basic guidelines about both my character portrayal and in character/ooc interactions. Starting off with...

ooc/in character interactions

01. If you need me to tag something, let me know! I tag things with "[trigger] cw" + "[trigger] tw".

02. If it's been over a week since I last responded to a thread, feel free to give me a nudge! I'm honestly really pretty approachable (and just to add if i ever come off as otherwise, great seven forbid, please tell me bc i want you all to feel as comfy as possible here!) so don't feel weird about reaching out and reminding me!

03. We love shipping here, romantic, familial, platonic -- all of it! Characters interacting and building realtionships is very cool and fun!!

character portrayal

Ilam is a jerk. He's a creature built on self-preservation, and an immense crave for power, stepping on whoever's toes he has to to get what he wants. In the rare occasion his conscience takes over, and I mean VERY rare, he'll whine about how stupid it is that he needs to help someone other than himself for a change. He can be Highly Agressive. He's also VERY vocal on things he finds to be unfair to him, and on things/people he finds to be annoying. He's rather sadistic, and finds pleasure in making others suffer for his own entertainment.

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muse info.

Full Name: Ilam Ismail

Age: 19

Species: Human

Description of appearance (written): Stands at about 5'6". Tan skin, wavy, dark hair coming down to slightly below his ears/slightly above his shoulders, a bit of a round tummy.

Birthday: [11/7]

Inspiration: Iago [Aladdin]

Homeland: Scalding Sands

Signature Spell: "Grant me your voice! Prattling parrot!"

It allows him to perfectly mimic the voice of anyone. He must be careful with it though... it doesn't do anything to alter his physical appearance, so he's gotta stay out of sight.

Grade: 2nd year

Dorm: Scarabia -- He is highly intelligent, and often thinks up schemes to tilt fate in his favor at the drop of a hat.

Club: Basketball club.

fc; luca, raion gotoki no kuni kara

#ooc // character info.