#actually there’s one person that I thirst followed but I would never admit that to her

[dumbseee]

rumours, part two.

part one.

jude bellingham x influencer!reader.

fc: nailea devora.

_

groupchat: it girls 💕

larray:

ain’t no way you’re dating jude fucking bellingham and haven’t told us

y/n:

larry istg i’ll cut your hair in your sleep if you keep believing those DUMB rumours

oliviarodrigo:

girl

he’s hot asf why don’t you shoot your shot?

y/n:

with a footballer?

hell fucking no

these guys don’t know what being faithful to one person means

and i’ve heard plenty of shit about this jude guy

larray:

yeah me too tbh

y/n:

i’m not getting involved with him, period.

larray:

okay but what about his teammates?

y/n:

larry.

larray:

DO IT FOR ME

_

liked by judebellingham, yourbestie, larray and 789 928 others.

y/n: girls night 🥂

_

fan1: JUDE LIKED???

fan2: is she lying to us?? bc why would he like her posts now?

fan3: I JUST CHECKED AND HE’S FOLLOWING HER NOW TOO

fan4: maybe she lied to protect their privacy?? that would make sense tbh

fan5: you look so good 😍

fan6: she’s such a baddie omg, jude i get it now

fan7: didn’t know who she was before the whole jude drama but omg i love her

fan8: LEAVE JUDE ALONE YOU FREAK

fan9: petition for jude’s groupies to leave y/n alone

fan10: MOTHER

fan11: y/n please do another grwm i’m obsessed with your videos

fan12: how to be like her, she’s hot asf and has THEE jude bellingham at her feet

view all comments.

_

insta dms:

y/n:

wtf is wrong with you?

i told you to tell your fangirls to leave me alone and what are you doing? you LIKE my posts and you follow me now?

leave me alone, jude.

judebellingham:

you looked good

you always look good*

are you free, tomorrow night?

y/n:

can’t you READ?

LEAVE. ME. ALONEEEEE.

or i’m pressing charges on you hoe.

judebellingham:

so it’s a yes?

i’ll send you the tickets and my jersey, someone will come pick you up, what’s your address?

y/n:

wtf

what do you mean?

judebellingham:

we’re playing against sevilla and i want you to come

y/n:

we don’t even know each other tf??

is that how you get all those girls to get obsessed with you?

that ain’t gonna work with me, boy.

judebellingham:

hm, i like you already.

y/n:

well, i hate you.

judebellingham:

haha

turns me on, love it.

y/n:

i am BLOCKING you

_

i hate him. i fucking hate him. who does he think he is? making me come see him to his stupid game, what am i, his mother? seriously i could’ve stayed at home, binge-watching the twilight movies like i do every year. now i have to go to his fucking football game, it’s going to be so nosy, damn it. and before you ask me, YES i am getting ready and i am wearing his jersey. not because i want to, but i know that i won’t hear the end of it if i don’t do it. yeah, i’m doing it because he’s forcing me, no other reason.

like jude said, someone did pick me up to take me to the bernabeu stadium, and i can’t believe i’m doing this. the venue is full of fans wearing either their real madrid jerseys or their sevilla jerseys. i can see men, women, kids, elderly people, they’re all here to have fun and support their favourite team and i have to admit that it’s a cute sight. let’s just hope that they don’t kill each other’s at the end of the match. i’m quickly escorted to the vip section, where friends, family and important people would seat for the game.

"oh my god, is that y/n?" a voice called from behind, i closed my eyes shut, fuck, and walked faster, i should’ve wore a mask to hide my face. if anyone picture me in this stadium with that motherfucker’s jersey on, it would end my career and i’m half exaggerating.

thank god, the vip section was secluded from the other people. the game started and i had to admit that it was fun to watch when you weren’t really supporting anyone. no stress, just having fun watching men run after a ball, just like dogs. jude was actually good, i never looked him up on the internet to watch his performances, i just knew he was the internet’s favourite whore and girls were thirsting over him. he was good looking, of course, no one could deny that, but more than anything he was annoying as fuck. i surprised myself, cheering for him when he scored a goal, what was wrong with me.

real madrid was actually leading the game with two goals against one. jude’s teammate passed the ball to him and he scored his third goal of the match. okay now, why did this motherfucker just point at the crowd, more specifically towards me? people turned around to see where he was pointing at, but thankfully they couldn’t see me. my heart definitely sank when he did that though, seriously what is wrong with this guy! it was a cute gesture, yes, but we weren’t dating and i promised myself to never date an athlete, tried it once and promised to never doing it again. jude was everything i hated in a man, he was reckless, cocky, full of himself and he knew he was hot. nothing worse than a guy who knows he’s handsome.

_

"how was i?" he asked, this big smile plastered on his face, i wish i could tear it off his face. "fine, i guess." jude made a weird face and put his hands on his hips. "fine? y/n, i was more than fine and you know it, scored three goals and they were all for you." he blew me a kiss and i swore i was about to knock him out. "yeah about that, someone could’ve seen me!" i said, slapping his arm, making him laugh. "darling, that’s what i wanted." okay, the way he was looking at me may or may have not made my heart skip a beat. "jude, i’m starting to believe that the fans gaslighted you into thinking we’re already dating." he laughed, making my cheeks heat up just a bit. "i just want to give the fans what they want to see." he shrugged and put his arm around my shoulders to start walking out of the changing room. i imediatly pushed his arm away and speed walked in front of him to hide my red cheeks. of course, the bitch was laughing at me, running to catch me and poking my cheeks to mock me. "aww, you’re blushing? i thought you hated me, darling." i put my hands on my cheek. "fuck you! it’s just hot in here!" "it’s literally minus two degrees, y/n."

_

liked by judebellingham, jobebellingham, oliviarodrigo and 890 918 others.

y/n: maybe football isn’t so bad 🙄

_

judebellingham: like the view? 👀

y/n: shut up.

fan1: SHE POSTED JUDE???

fan2: Y/N DID YOU LIE TO US???

y/n: WE’RE JUST FRIENDS GUYS OMG

judebellingham: for now* 🫢

y/n: jude istg…

fan3: OMGBSJSOSLSLMDMSLZ WTF

fan4: i am literally shitting bricks what the FUCK

fan5: i love the banter lmao they’re fun

fan6: i ship it tbh

fan7: y/n being a wag for 2024 omg

fan8: i love how she’s fighting it but we all know how it’s going to end

fan9: Y/N NOOOOOO NOT A FOOTBALLER

oliviarodrigo: well, well, well 👀

y/n: please not you too

larray: will you look at THAT

y/n: LARRY SHUT UP IM BEGGING

fan10: lmaoo even her friends are ratting her out

fan11: #savey/n

view all comments.

_

insta dms:

y/n:

ARE YOU KIDDING ME

DID YOU REALLY DM POP BASE TO TALK ABOUT US???

judebellingham:

mmh, i don’t know what you’re talking about

y/n:

jude bellingham.

judebellingham:

okay maybe i did

BUT I DIDN’T KNOW THEY’D RAT ME OUT LIKE THAT

y/n:

FOR FUCK’S SAKE

judebellingham:

anyways it’s not a big deal tbh

are you free tonight?

y/n:

no.

judebellingham:

nice, i’ll come pick you up at 9 <3

y/n:

are you BLIND?

i said no bitch

judebellingham:

suddenly i can’t read.

_

liked by judebellingham, larray, sabrinacarpenter and 901 927 others.

y/n: get you a man who eats his spaghettis with his hands 😍

_

judebellingham: i wonder who is this gentleman 🫢

y/n: yeah i wonder too 🙄

fan1: pls not jude carrying y/n’s purse

fan2: they’re so cute stop

fan3: my favourite couple

fan4: PARENTS

fan5: lmao i bet jude is the one who begged her to be his gf

y/n: yes.

fan6: JAISOSPXLD’´S

view all comments.

#football x reader #football masterlist #football au #football #jude bellingham x oc #jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham fic #jude bellingham fanfic #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham #bellingham #jude bellingham fluff #fluff

[bluest-planet]

Wasn't gonna tag this originally, but if you follow me for my current chaiflower atsv fic, although it has nothing to do with it, being on the tag for atsv on AO3 has really made some things apparent to me.

Specifically how the fandom, and the fic writers on ao3 writes for the characters and their subject matter.

Now, dark fic and taboo subjects in fanfic isn't a new thing and it's never going to go away. Which is a good thing, bc the second we demonize and try to censor that kind of stuff, is the second we loose a lot of the kinds of stories we can tell.

Writing is a medium for humans to experience something with no stakes. Be it dangerous or just a good time, it helps us explore our thoughts, and feelings of scenarios we might never have to face but prepare us, or have already had to deal with and help us deal with those scenarios.

I'm also not gonna police anyone and tell em what you can and can't write fanfic about. Do whatever the hell you want, and make sure to tag your shit appropriately, it's a common courtesy and it's a bad thing to not do because even if you don't face any repercussions for it; do you really want to be the one people avoid because of a bad rep?

Moving on, let me just preference; I am an aroace person. I am also Mexican/Salvi. I think Miguel is cool complex antagonist and I'll admit he does have a sculpted ass lol. He's cool and conventionally attractive, with a neat personality people can mess around with. I get why there's a thirst for him.

But I think we should acknowledge how... He's treated by the fandom. Especially during that first week of spiderverse coming out. I don't mind smut, I just ignore it and move on with my day if smth doesn't appeal to me. But when you don't put fics under readmores, or put in tags so it's seen by everyone ur gonna have to deal with people skimming or having a base understanding of what kind of smut n stuff you're writing.

I'm not kinkshaming or anything, you do you, but it quite frankly has made me (and maybe a few others I've seen but don't quote me on that I only speak for myself.) Uncomfortable with this 'Latine Lover' trope people have stapled onto Miguel. I can imagine it's worse for his comic fans, but sometimes people really do be out here writing wish fulfillment smut fics where they're plastering their, kinda racist stereotypes and fantasies onto this Mexican character. If that was it tho? I wouldn't be making this. Because I know that eventually it would die down as time passes and we'd all move on.

Then came the flowerfang/MilesxMiguel (or any other of the spider teens) fics.

Look, again. Dark fic is a part of fandom whether you like it or not, it's up to your personal decision whether or not to engage with it. I don't. But I do think some people should be self reflecting and analyzing why these are being written at the high rate that they are and if you enjoy them or get something out of it is fine, but just be aware and critical of what you're reading and not let it cloud judgement or the actual characters' movie portrayals. It's so easy to let fannon dictate how you view characters, which are often dumbed down and stripped of their original identities for instant gratification.

When these characterizations become wildly accepted, it's often not an issue because people don't have to read it or engage with it in their own little corners. However it ends up highlighting the racism prevent in these spaces. Because to me, it feels like a lot of this is coming from white or young fic writers (although that maybe might not be the case, but I'm trusting my gut here. No shade to young writes either lol I'm close in age w the spider kids) Doing what they want with these amazing black and brown characters and low-key ruining the fun for non white fans, specifically Black and Brown fans.

Fandom is only a safe space and escapism for white fans, and anyone else is forced to carve out their own space and safeguard it from these racist depictions.

When Miguel is not being painted as a 'Latine Lover', he's a predator, or a violent monster, hypersexual Mexican man, or a creep, or someone who's unreasonably angry worthy of no redemption. It makes him so terribly black and white, and while he may be a dark gray that doesn't negate the fact his complexity is being washed away so these writers can have a clear villain who fits this view of violent Latino men hurting women, and kids.

And while I still have this view of a cool antagonist, and can block tags for my own safe experience, that doesn't fix the fact that his character is going through this fanonization with an abundance of dark fic will change perception. Things don't just disappear if they're outta sight. It's still there. With an oppressive force and sour after taste to see how bastardized he's becoming to a majority of what fics are being created and setting precedent for.

Same goes for Miles; saved by the fact he's a young, smart, skinny kid and the protag. But that doesn't spare him from his own fanonization as this meek, weak, soft, baby, cryboy who needs to be comforted or face the worst trauma ever in order to get some trauma porn/wump outta him bc that's all he can be used for apparently. Instead of the confident, heroic, creative, outgoing and friendly kid who sticks up for what's right. I can't speak for black fans and how they feel about this characterization of him. But as a latine fan?

Miles is amazing. He's funny and cool, he's young and talented, and he doesn't take anything from anybody because he's been taught right. I may not be Puerto Rican but Miles is just.... Such a good representation for other latines. So to see him be striped of these traits a lot of the time for others that have been exaggerated; clumsiness, awkwardness, emotional availability, sweet, and caring attitude taken too far it's bad.

Part of it is the racism. People see this dark skinned boy and babyfy him to make him less complex, take away the sharp edges for something soft and malleable, something more digestible and able to process for their own needs. And another part of it is;

Writing is hard.

Believe me! I'm a fic writer! It takes me a long time to write, I edit, and I go back to add or take stuff out, I rewatch or reread whatever I need to make sure I'm doing my best with these characters and somehow try not to fumble the bag with my own scenes and how I interpret their character and relationships to tell a good story to my standards.

And sometimes I still get it wrong!

Which is totally normal! Hell! You don't have to even do all that, fic writing should be fun. You wanna write that chatfic, dark fic, one shot, smutfic, fix-it? Do it! Find your creative drive and do something with it! You get better the more you try!

Sometimes people write and don't realize what they're doing. They're doing it for fun and maybe don't consider some of these problematic traits they're writing. Or they don't know how to approach the character, dumb em down so they can start easy at first, and then get comfortable writing like that instead of slowly getting better with time bc it's for fun.

I take the steps because I want to make something accurate and introspective, not everyone is like that. Even I like wild fun chatfics or crack fics once n a while to shut off my brain.

But you're gonna have to learn that not everyone is gonna like what you write. That if properly representing the characters is what you want, you take that time to put all the love and care into that writing. Putting in that extra work does wonders, and it makes you a better writer! And it creates a good space for others to feel welcomed into!

I didn't even get to how Pavitr Prabhakar is also woobified most often than not, or how discarded his girlfriend Gayatri is in favour of gay shipping (although she doesn't have much screentime, and his ships aren't with white characters so I get why it happens.), Or all the drama I didn't even know about till recently around Punkflower, and Hobie's character. But I'm getting tried so let's wrap this up;

Fandom is gonna fanon. Yes we are responsible for our own experiences and what fan content we engage in, but that doesn't mean we should also turn a blind eye to racism, problematic tropes, or bad characterization. Just because it outta site doesn't mean it's outta mind, and doesn't effect others. I'm not saying harass these creators, no. They are people and at the end of the day they're not hurting anyone and just creating like you are. Leave them be.

But what I am saying is that you have to be the change you wanna see in fandom. As cheesy as that is. You gotta create and encourage the people you do like and enjoy the works of, and foster a fandom that does more than take the easy route. With time we might just win out the bad white fanon.

Or maybe not.

But at least we tried, and we made our point.

(and for the folks who do struggle or participate in these racist tropes or portrayals and fanonized characters and realize their mistake or want to do better; I encourage you to take a step back, rewatch the movie of you can and really study the story and characters. If not? Then listen or read the posts of black and brown fans. We're not all right, and some even have bad takes, but try to broaden your circle. It'll help you make your writing better. I'm not mad, I don't hate these writers. They have their own amazing moments and fics it's great! They're not villains, they're just people doing what they think is fun. They just need a push in the right direction sometimes.)

#atsv #across the spiderverse #atsv fanfiction #atsv fandom #blue speaks #long post #do not send me hate or try to argue with me. this was just my 2 cents and im going back to my hole. #say your peace in the replies and nothing else no rb on this one #this was wordvomit and not planned so again. don't come at me these are just my observations. #hope this doesn't come off as antagonistic bc its not supposed to be its just a warning #telling people to put more thought into their fandom and creative spaces and be critical (not in a mean way) #i am not going to fight with you. and i do not intended this as a call out or an attack on the people who do this #this is supposed to be a learning experience for all of us #thank you and goodnight #i WILL delete this if people come at me and refuse to interacd again w the fandom if they do #i can live blissfully in peace w/o caring about fandom drama #do NOT call anyone out in the replies either i will delete the post eother u guys are not attacking each other either #if i have anything to say about it on my post.

[themerc]

more headcanons #2

I promised Q's impressions on Bond, so.... Q's favourite things about Bond

Resilience. The thing that first stood out to Q, once he learned to know Bond a bit more than just by name and reputation, was the agent's incredible ability to bounce back from anything. Mental and physical trauma; gunshot wounds, cuts, bruises, broken bones, various forms of torture, actual goddamn deaths twice over... abandonment, betrayals, emotional blows, he's been through it all. And it barely seems to slow him down. Granted, all of it has left scars, some more visible than others. For all his heroics, Bond is still very human, and sometimes, breakable. Q has become intimately familiar with all the breaks and cracks in his armour. He considers it an honour to have been allowed to see and touch them, and help Bond put them where they belong - in the past.

Dedication. Q has never met anyone, save for maybe the former M, who has taken his duty to Queen and Country so seriously. It surprises him, knowing that, to see how far Bond's loyalty stretches also beyond the boundaries of official service. He's ready to risk his life and gamble everything for the cause, whatever it might be, whoever the people involved, as long as he thinks he knows and trusts them. And Q knows Bond doesn't actually have a death wish - if he did, he wouldn't fight tooth and nail to return every time (see the first point on Q's list). He doesn't really like that trait of Bond's, but he can admire it, all the same.

Style. Even if it's a bit embarrassing to admit, it's the truth: Q was very much attracted to Bond the moment he laid eyes on him. It wasn't in front of the Turner painting when they first spoke as Quartermaster and his agent, but three years earlier. Following a promotion, he'd ended up delivering newly developed signal scramblers to four of the double-o's at a black-tie event. That was it. Amidst all the splendour and people dressed to the nines, Bond had still stood out at first glance. He owned the space. And he still does, where ever he goes. Despite his expensive and luxurious taste in everything from the clothes he wears to the cars he drives to the foods he likes and the products he uses, it's somehow never excessive. Bond is very practical and on point with his style, and it's emphasised by his poise and manners, always appropriate. Q is a bit envious of all that.

All right, fine. It has to be on the list, so... Bond's widely acknowledged sex appeal. Q's by no means immune, on the contrary, although he often needs to pretend uninterested and that's all kinds of funny. Bond, the bastard that he is, sometimes flusters him on purpose. Yes, even at work. He'd be much more annoyed, if it wasn't for the fact that he eventually gets to enjoy the benefits of Bond actually keeping what he promises. He's not the jealous type, good for him, because otherwise his life would surely be miserable. Truth be told, after getting over the initial bouts of insecurity in the beginning of their... arrangement, he actually gets a little bit of a kick out of watching women and even some men fall for Bond's charm left and right, and knowing he's the one.

Intelligence. Q thinks of Bond as a kind of modern Renaissance Man, a multi-talented individual who excels in anything he sets his mind to, and besides the impressive array of practical skills, has a vast knowledge of variety of subjects - which, to Q's surprise, include computer sciences and some hacking. Bond's thirst for knowledge seems insatiable, and that's the biggest turn-on for Q. Bond is by far the most interesting, witty conversationalist Q's ever tried dating.

Physique, period. That's not being shallow, if he listed intellectual prowess just above it, is it?

Good with cats. A dealbreaker, in itself, but Bond takes even this above and beyond. He's not even a cat person, really, but he takes excellent care of them when needed, and owing to his curiosity about the Sphynx in particular, knows more than a thing or two including how to spot and treat any potential health concerns.

Tenderness. For a man who lives and breathes violence, the contrast is striking when he's with someone he cares about and trusts. Q had noticed, even before they'd ended up sleeping together, that Bond often used touch more than words to entice and seduce. He'd been convinced it was a practised skill, just another move in his deadly arsenal. Until. Until the very first intimate touches they had shared, and he'd noticed the strong, calloused fingers trembling against his skin. Neither of them had said anything, but Q had known that he'd never be the same, after.

#00q #headcanons #q's impressions on bond

[let-your-chaos-explode]

The Secrets of Lady Lesso - Chapter 2

A few weeks had passed since Clarissa Dovey had mustered the courage to ask the Dean of Evil about her cane. And it was a few weeks of pure torture. Her curiousity burned hotly and she needed to know the truth. If she were honest, she had never really thought about why the other woman used it. It was just part of her. Always had been, as far as Clarissa remembered. But being denied the knowledge made her thirst for it now. Especially since the woman in question seemed to take such pleasure in letting the world wonder. 

Lady Lesso had been avoiding her ever since orientation. She would catch flashes of vibrant red hair rounding corners and by the time Dovey had made it to the end of the hall, Lesso was gone. She had not been present at meals. Nor was she spending any time in the library. In her absence, Clarissa realized just how comfortable she had gotten with the other woman’s presence. She was finding that she missed the little moments they seemed to share now that they were gone. 

Well, she couldn’t avoid her forever. The first quarter staff meeting was scheduled for this evening. And it was mandatory. 

All of the other staff members sat bored in their chairs. Most had arrived on time and had been waiting for Dovey to start the meeting for nearly twenty minutes. Except they were still short by one very specific and very stubborn, Evil Dean. 

“Where in the Ever loving world is she?”

“Professor Dovey,” an Ever teacher started hesitantly. “Perhaps we could start without her? I’m sure you could fill her in on any events of the meeting. That is to say, many of us have lesson plans to finalize.”

Clarissa was once again overcome with embarrassment. “Yes! Yes, of course.”

As it happened, Lady Lesso barged into the meeting a grand total of forty-five minutes late. 

“…and I will be taking volunteers for the planning of this year’s Snow Ball.” Dovey continued, narrowed eyes following Lesso in a heated glare until she loudly found her seat. 

“I will help coordinate that for you, Clarissa.” Emma Anemone volunteered. 

“Wonderful!” Dovey clapped. “If nobody has anything else to add…”

Chairs began scraping against the stone of the floor. 

“Lady Lesso, a word, please.” 

The woman paused mid-rise from her seat and sighed, dropping back into the cushioned chair. Dovey waited until the room had cleared before perching primly in the chair directly next to Lesso. The woman appeared unbothered, inspecting her sharp, silver painted nails casually. 

Dovey uncharacteristically let her shoulders slump as she splayed her hands against the table. Nervously, she began scratching at a chip in the wood, refusing to look at the woman next to her. 

“If I… apologize…” Dovey started and cleared her throat. “For asking invasive and personal questions, will you quit acting like a child?”

Clarissa didn’t look, but she could feel Lesso stiffen in her seat. 

“ The Clarissa Dovey, Dean of Good, Fairy Godmother extraordinaire, would actually apologize to little old me? ” Lesso asked with sarcastic surprise, placing a hand against her chest. 

Dovey’s gaze finally cut to Lesso’s in an exasperated side-eye and a pout on her lips. 

A slow, toothy grin grew on the redhead’s face. 

“If it means you’ll talk to me again, then yes.” Clarissa admitted quietly, once again averting her eyes. 

Lesso’s self-satisfied smile instantly fell. She uncrossed her legs and braced her forearms on her knees as she leaned forward, attempting to see Dovey’s face. 

“Look, Dove…” Lesso mumbled awkwardly. “It never…offended me that you asked.” 

She gestured halfheartedly at her leg. 

“Then why have you been avoiding me?!” Clarissa cried, irritation finally bubbling to the surface. 

Lady Lesso let loose a barking laugh and rose from the chair. “I like watching you squirm.”

She tapped her cane jauntily, heading toward the door. 

“Excuse me?” Dovey sputtered incredulously as a pretty blush climbed up her neck. 

“I’m evil, princess. It’s what I do.” 

“Lesso?” 

The Dean of Evil paused with her hand on the knob, inclining her head. 

“What happened to your leg?” Clarissa asked curiously. 

Leonora turned to look at her over her shoulder. 

“Chernabog.” She shrugged.  

Lady Lesso smirked and with a devilish wink, sauntered out the door.

Chapter 3

#Dovesso #Lady Lesso #Leonora Lesso #Lesso's cane #SGE #the school for good and evil #fanfic #fanfiction #clarissa dovey #Lady Lesso x Clarissa Dovey #The Secrets of Lady Lesso Chapter 2

[manikas-whims]

VinMary as Kpop Idol Headcanons

Vin Jin would become a well-known rapper (ofc not as famous as Duke 😝)

Mary seems like she'd be a great dancer and singer but dancing is her forte. She can do amazing hiphop, jazz, pole dancing, with a little ballroom and a good amount of contemporary.

Both of them are solo artists but have definitely collabed more than once. They do alot TikTok dance trends too. Its a well-known fact in the industry and to their fans that the two have been friends since a long time.

They've definitely collabed on a track paying homage to their hometown Cheonliang.

Mary goes viral alot for her dancing, one of the most iconic one being a fancam of her pole dancing in one of her songs' choreo.

Vin's rap verses also go viral alot. They are widely used by his fans on IG and TikTok to make those “badass edits for their fav fictional characters”

In the future too, Vin never takes off his glasses (he isn't insecure about them anymore; he just doesn't want them to be the highlight about him). Yet still, there's discussions about his mysterious eyes on websites like TheQoo, Quora, pannchoa, etc.

Everytime he's on an interview or a variety show, the question is brought up to Vin but he always shrugs it off.

Interviewers also try to pry about his eyes from Mary but she always says, “You'd be surprised by how lame they actually are.”

Mary feels like the person who'd write songs about body positivity and learning self-love and healing. She'll be an inspiration to her fans and called an “Unbothered Queen”.

There are times when Mary's hair goes back to its original black color and at such times, fans find it hard to recognize her. This is advantageous to her as she can easily head out without being followed by sasaengs (stalkers).

Mary's fandom is divided into Black Haired Mary stans Vs Blonde Haired Mary stans 😂 Many believe she should've been a natural blonde.

Vin's fans would be more interested in (and dare I say: thirst over) his muscular physique. He's been offered several sponsorships for sports modeling as well as underwear brands.

There's an interview Mary absolutely despises, where the interviewer asked Vin about his physique. Vin laughed (like the idiot he is) and said, “This is nothing. You should've seen me at my prime 😌”

One time some antis find out and spread pics of Vin Jin from highschool, sharing with the world how he used to be a bully, the famous rapper Duke being one of his major victims.

Soon there's videos and posts on sites like reddit and pannchoa, discussing the controversial matter. Many fans of Duke start speculating if some of his diss tracks are about bullying he suffered from Vin.

Media outlets try to reach out to Duke for a comment on the matter but he is respectful enough to not say anything.

Media also tries to get to Mary but this isn't something she can or wants to defend her friend for. She says, “I have no right to speak on this matter.”

Finally after lots of thinking and talking it over with Mary, Vin decides to meet Duke in person and properly apologize.

Surprisingly Duke simply smiles at him and accepts his apology. BUT HE DOESN'T FORGIVE VIN. (If you are mature enough and choose to apologize to your victim, then good for you. But your victim is NOT OBLIGATED to forgive you.)

Forgiveness is far from Vin's reach for now but inspite of that Duke suggests a collab between the two. Vin agrees.

The collab is very well-received by both of their fans and the next time Vin is asked about the bullying allegations, he admits to them being true but also officially informs the world, “I have felt sorry for my actions and apologised to Duke. But forgiving me is upto him. For now, I'm satisfied with the truce we've made through our song.”

i think these are enough for now, hope y'all like them ♡

#vinmary #vin jin #mary kim #lookism #외모지상주의 #진호빈 #김미루 #호빈미루 #vin jin x mary kim #vin jin x mary kim fanfic #vin jin headcanons #mary kim headcanons #lookism vin jin #lookism mary kim

[golbrocklovely]

Not SnC related, but what are your thoughts on Matt Rife? Last I checked, Sam still followed him on IG 🤷🏼‍♀️

matt rife is a very interesting person lol

i never really saw him blow up on tiktok (or at least on my fyp) but i had heard about him and some of the thirst edits that had been shared about him. and i knew overall that a lot of ppl, women mostly, found him hot.

what i find the most fascinating about him is how much of a case study he really is for confidence and how important that can be to the success or downfall of a person.

(this became so long i'm sorry lol)

so idk if it's true that he got surgery done to make his face look more manly. i know he admitted to the veneers, i believe, but they wouldn't have changed up his face that much. so... i'm gonna believe the possible filler allegations lol

i think one of the reasons why things kinda fell off for him is bc he wasn't confident in himself whatsoever, and then like most men who feel like shit, he took it out on women.

bc let me tell you a little something about myself: i have been plus size my entire life. came out the womb with thunder thighs. not even joking about that. for years, and i mean years, i legit thought if i could just be skinny, i'll be happy. if i could just look like what ppl want me to look like, i'll feel better about myself. and it took til i was about 25ish to finally realize being skinny was NEVER gonna make me magically like myself. i had lost weight before, 40 pounds one time, 60 pounds another. but it never made me like myself. sure, i guess i felt better in the moment. but the quiet would set back in, and i would go back to shitting on myself.

losing weight and getting down to the "correct" size was never going to happen. i was never gonna be satisfied. bc at the end of the day, i still hated myself. i still deeply thought i was ugly. i could lose 100s of pounds and still think i wasn't good enough. not to mention, i wanted to be known for more than just my weight. i was a whole person, regardless of my size.

and i think matt kinda had a similar thing happen.

i think he always had an issue with himself, his face particularly. and while, yeah - plenty of ppl thought he was kinda funny - he wasn't conventionally attractive (in his own eyes and to others). so he felt like no one cared about him. so he figured, if i could just get hot, ppl will care about me and my comedy.

but the exact opposite happened. he changed up his face, got it to match the portrait in his mind of what he "deserved" to look like, but he never worked on himself internally. he never fixed the broken parts of himself. so when suddenly, all of these women are giving him attention - it almost proved the little voice in the back of his head "see, all they did care about was my looks. i got held back in life bc i was ugly". even tho reality is, that's not what happened. he felt like shit about himself, ppl don't naturally gravitate towards unconfident ppl. if you don't like yourself, a lot of ppl will take advantage of that. that's just life.

and not only was that little voice proven "right", all anyone could talk about anymore was his looks (tho he also played a huge role in that). when all he wanted was to be known for was his comedy. but he thought the reason he wasn't succeeding was bc of his looks.

when in actuality, he just... wasn't funny. or really, wasn't as funny as he thought he was.

this all being said, if he actually worked on himself internally, he wouldn't have gotten himself into this mess. do i think he's funny? eh, i guess. but like any man, him make "women kitchen = funny" jokes really puts a damper on the a, being funny aspect he takes pride in and b, being attractive. i feel like a lot of men don't realize how quickly they self sabotage their own happiness by HATING ON THE GENDER THEY ARE ATTRACTED TO.

and sam following him... honestly, i wouldn't be surprised if he only follows him bc matt is friends with elton and they're all on somewhat decent terms again.

quick note to matt: hating on astrology is really dumb, coming from the dude that has gone ghost hunting and believes. babe, you might think i'm weird bc i believe in planets and their alignment meaning something, but you're scared of something that isn't even tangible.... at least i know the planets actually fucking exist.

(i also believe in ghosts, but at least i don't pretend to be on a high horse about it)

also talking about a partner's nether regions and saying how they are unattractive to you IS CRAZY when i know dicks 9 times out of 10 literally look like shriveled up limp mini hot dogs.......... you have a lot of room to be talking, my guy.

#ask #personal

[blasphemme]

just finished call of duty black ops. here are some (long, comma abusing, mostly tangentially related) thoughts after playing it for the first time for anyone who might read them!

altogether the campaign was fine, i guess.

as many others have in the past few years following the modern warfare remakes, my online activity has been inundated with thirst edits made of characters in call of duty — despite having never played the games myself. they’re not my thing.

my flatmate, however, has played them. he played them as a kid when they were being released, and he has had the misfortune of being on the receiving end of me watching these edits and reading fanfics (shout out early 351780!!). increasingly annoyed at my thirsting, he has forced me to play every call of duty campaign on the xbox 360.

i’ve found that i actually really enjoy playing cod. it’s enjoyable, action packed and, most importantly, quite compelling. they’re something i’d never have considered playing without him pushing me to play them. i’m more of an assassin’s creed/ace combat/nier girl and always have been. the closest i’d been to playing a shooter before this experience was playing gta, badly.

my flatmate knew my priorities. after an introduction to the premise with world at war — the first game in the black ops series, which i promise i will get to at some point — we played the original modern warfare campaigns first, because i am a wee bit in love with captain john price, and i loved them. the stories, while simple enough to follow (and already knowing about the main character deaths in advance — it’s a 10+ year old series, after all!), were emotionally evocative. i found myself becoming attached to the protagonists quickly and deeply, all the while having a whale of a time fucking around in the rest of the mission. this girl loves just walking onto grenades! between world at war and the modern warfare trilogy of campaigns, i was hooked from the start.

i realise now that i have been spoiled. those campaigns were just too good.

black ops’ campaign pales in comparison to the other four games i’ve played. i will admit that it is still fun — very fun! i enjoyed the feeling of progressing from one badass area to the next, with sam worthington’s horrific american accent and gary oldman’s alright russian accent pushing me through. i also have to admit that i still play like an absolute scrub, but the enjoyment i got from it outweighed the frustration. (mostly.)

black ops lacks the charm and depth i loved in world at war. while fun, every plot twist was spotted as soon as it was hinted to, much to my flatmate’s dismay. it took one guy telling mason to get a hold of himself for me to figure out the twist around reznov, and one recitation of the numbers on the way to the pentagon for me to figure out that mason would go on to kill kennedy. this, in particular, also felt like a bit of a cop-out — having this confirmed in a post-credits scene was disappointing, when i’d gone through the whole game and sat through an eminem song in the credits expecting a sequence where i’d be on the grassy knoll just to end up in a round of zombies. honk shoo.

modern warfare — modern warfare 2 in particular (kevin mckidd’s soap my beloved <3) — introduced new mechanics that’d be used once or twice in the whole game, most of which i enjoyed. the missions where you have to assist tf141 from an ac130 in the first game? stellar. absolutely unmatched. all ghillied up can go fuck itself on a gameplay front though, fuck you if you think i’m gonna figure out what the coriolis effect is. in black ops, the helicopter sequences felt like hate crimes against me personally. poorly designed flight controls and awful combat mechanics combined to make a literally unplayable pair of missions involving attacking other helicopters that i had to beg my flatmate to complete for me. embarrassing.

this game is utterly us army propaganda. the epic final shot in the campaign after killing dragovich — where suddenly 3 aircraft carriers are there waiting for you flying star spangled banners, and 8 fighter jets pass overhead — only resulted in making me cringe and laugh in disbelief, where in 2010 it would’ve made young men enlist. world at war at least has the balance of ‘war is cool and we’re the best’ in the pacific segments and ‘war sucks, actually,’ in the eastern front segments. modern warfare, too, falls face first into the latter, and that’s part of what i enjoyed about it.

even the little fun things weren’t as enjoyable. i didn’t have a favourite gun, or a favourite mission. the star cast choices were okay, but nothing to call home about. there wasn’t a ‘production babies’ segment in the credits, and they made me listen to eminem and pink. what the fuck?

altogether, black ops 1 has the worst campaign of the franchise i’ve played so far. next we’re onto black ops 2, which hopefully won’t come with a free personal statement like this one, and which i’ve been told is one of the best games ever made. we’ll see.

3/10

#sav talking to the void #cod posting #this is mostly me talking about how much i loved modern warfare btw #tldr 3/10 #fun to play but shallow and boring to think about #viktor reznov my beloved #<- new babygirl alert

[seasurfacefullofclouds1]

Yeah larries do reinforce stereotypes but so many larries don’t like being soft about Louis or calling him too many cute things 😭 when I used to be friends with larries and a fan of Harry back then too, they would get upset at me for calling Louis cute names or thinking he was a soft sweetheart. If I did the same with Harry, they thought that was perfectly reasonable and fine. It’s part of the reason why I stopped associating with larries. It was incredibly annoying and very telling of their opinion of Louis that I couldn’t call Louis cute nicknames but they wanted all the cute things for Harry. I know plenty of other Louies who had a similar experience, whether they were a larrie or not. We had a larrie get roasted in louie fandom last year for saying not to use baby filters on a picture of Louis, because the picture was of him unshaven. Because they apparently didn’t like or know his face without a beard, he looked too baby for them, that didn’t suit their image of manly man Louis being the husband to their soft cute little wife Harry. Just recently a larrie decided that a pillow we saw in the background of one of the clips in Louis’ house which had Clifford’s name on it had to be something Harry did because Louis could never be associated with cute things, that’s only for Harry. Plenty of larries get annoyed at people using feminine or cute terms for Louis and will only allow that for Harry. It’s why I get annoyed with louies who get annoyed with cute terms for Louis because to me they are embodying the stereotypes about Louis which larries tend to push, like the tommo way stuff, which is from larries. So many Larries make Louis’ entire personality that he smokes and likes sport. If Louis likes flowers or shows appreciation for them (which he completely does, the 28OP line is such an example of that), then it’s because flowers remind him of Harry. If Louis smells nice, like flowers or lavender or vanilla or baby powder, then it’s because he’s wearing scents which remind him of Harry. That all comes from larries and a vocal majority of them too. Louis isn’t allowed to be too soft or too baby or too sweet because that is reserved for their actual favourite

Louis is slim figured, so it’s sometimes hard to tell how much he does or doesn’t work out, and it’s also really not my business if he does or doesn’t. I think he’s fit and enjoys working out in certain ways, just maybe not exclusively in a gym. I think heavily focusing too much on whether Louis works out or not is weird, whatever side you fall on. Think he’s hot or beautiful, yes, but don’t make posts about how he’s such a liar for saying he doesn’t like working out or going to the gym. Louis said he didn’t really work out that much at some point last year, but may have changed that after his injury and with an awareness that he will be touring, which requires a level of fitness. Louis enjoys a bit of racing, clearly, and loves football. I know he used to have a kind of football game when they could with a couple of other celebrities, I don’t know if that still happens but it might. Yet again, it’s hard to tell especially in that image when it is all distorted. Trust Louis to post a thirst trap but still manage to obscure the details ☹️ I have to admit though, I thought his little tummy was cute. I want to bite him all over so badly, and that’s one of the areas I dreamed most about 🫣

Thanks for this great message. I loved your points.

I think if any stranger followed a normal fan around obsessively, tried to get into their personal emails and texts, stalked the fan to their workplace and forced them to take “fan” photos, tracked their travel and plane tickets and restaurant reservations and bank statements, told lies about them, and then relentlessly commented on their weight and body type FOR YEARS, it would be considered weird and sociopathic, right? And on top of that, obsesses about their family even if they’re children?

And yet that’s exactly what fans do, and it’s not limited to Larries either. All parts of the 1D fandom engage in these activities.

[titoist]

Why you thirsting over Enoch Powell?

sitting in chair, one leg folded over the other. scratches back of hand nervously. 'thirsting' over him is...a strong way to phrase it. talking about him is, always....walking a very fine line. so allow me the attempt to explain my thoughts, in the following words. my research into british politics, particularly cold-war era british politics, has led me to acquire...a fair bit of knowledge about Powell, directly and indirectly. i would say that my time studying him has...endeared me to a sense of vague interest, perhaps *respect* on some level, though with the obvious, tacit understanding that i loathe his political views. i like to think i am allowed a sense of disconnect, viewing him detachedly, how one can be fond of the subject matter without condoning what that subject matter contains. waves hand dismissively. or something. i think Powell...is a very fascinating figure. most people know him from his anti-immigration 'Rivers of Blood' speech, in which he warns against what amounts to totally-not-a-race-war. "As I look ahead, I am filled with foreboding; like the Roman, I seem to see the River Tiber foaming with much blood." though, i think drawing conclusions solely from this occurrence is...understandable, not unwarranted, but perhaps missing the full picture of the man. i would posit he was not a 'racist' in the traditional sense(though publicly saying 'what's wrong with racism?' never netted him any favors). he was not racist in the sense of other races being 'wrong' or 'inferior', it's clear he wholeheartedly loved other cultures, especially India's - he even called out the British government's use of concentration camps in Kenya. describing him neatly is difficult. one could call him a syncretist. he feared and played up the idea the UK could devolve into a Jim Crow state like the US had, at the time. the problem with him is, that he never found himself to be wrong cause most of the time he was actually correct, in most of his assumptions. 'course, segregation and the 'totally not a race war' never happened. he was conservative monetarist and a nationalist(not 'moseley' nationalist, more like british democracy, NHS, tea and a unitary state), but socially progressive, advocating for increased personal freedoms and the 'permissive society', even being a hidden homosexual himself. he was a tory, but loathed the wider conservative platform - especially with regards to european integration in the EEC, publicly leaving the Conservative Party and campaigning for Labour instead, since at the time Labour was positioned as the eurosceptic party. i would go as far as to say that his condemnation of the Tory's lost them the election. he fully stood up for his personal principles, even when it meant betraying his political allegiances. I am not Judas! Judas was Paid! he was thatcher's political hero, but he himself was disappointed in her. i will say, with a degree of confidence, that he was a cultural determinist rather than an adherent to any actual race-based way of thinking. of course, you have him saying that it's "Difficult, though not impossible, for a black man to be British." perhaps it is a bad look, but i will add onto the above quote with the fact that he admitted he never understood how assimilation worked, and even got Michael Foot(yes, that Michael Foot) to agree with him that no one... really did at the time. taking everything into account, and giving him the slight benefit of the doubt, i think if he knew how assimilation worked he'd have pushed for that rather than the anti-immigration stance he took. my slight respect for him also comes from the fact he was...a sincerely enchanting orator. You don't tax a loss, you tax a profit! (42:31) he was abso lutely loathed by Labour during his time in active politics, which i don't blame them for at all. i sometimes even wish they would've killed him at the time. dabs sweaty forehead with handkerchief. apologies for going on that giant....'infodump' about him, which i hope does not amount to racism apologia. i think much of him, but not entirely positively. So Yeah.

#im not sure if this is a sufficient explanation and answer; but i hope it at least conveys why i hold a vague interest in him. #i would have typed more but i hit the text limit....ghoulish! #my friends are...tired of hearing me talk about him all the time. but please do trust i am not a secret cryptoracist or whatever. #if i was there for his active campaign i would have hated him too; wanted him to die if not for the vague disconnect i have #when studying him as a third party. #britain probably would be a better place all in all had he not given the rivers of blood speech honestly...

[stomp-that-ho-regard]

(same anon) ur totally right abt those two I thought I was the only one who couldn't stand either of them (and their entire posse of FOLLOWERS who. truly followed them w cult-like vigor) bc of the power they wielded by touting themselves as 'true rational' when anybody who dare said "hey c/r ain't all that and what they're doing... this ain't right" would get thrown under the bus as they'd make 'rational' posts abt how these ppl who questioned c/r were clearly of inferior intellect and didn't Get the Superior Intellect of C/R.

another one of them is c/ranesbyibycus and these three had a fuckall trinity of touting themselves as "ships everything and ships nothing! so we have true neutrality as a council™ to have rational CR opinions!"

like... yall think this most mediocre (calling him mediocre feels generous) white man who constantly puts whitewashed art on the reel, says racist and orientalist bullshit repeatedly and makes non-apologies when held accountable; makes lesbophobic comments ON AIR in the show and gets away with it— you put this absolutely detestable fucker on a pedestal and tut yourselves the self-proclaimed Leaders™ of this "thirst cult" dedicated to him.

You're some kind of hypocrite to think you're very "Logical" and "Take No Sides" when you talk down to the people (especially marginalized communities and fans of colour) who react emotionally and point out C/R's slew of fuckups... if THIS dude is the hill you're ready to die on lmao.

Not sure "rational" is a word I'd use for any of you clowns.

They’re always condescending to critics and treat them like morons. If it’s about the company, “they don’t understand business.” If it’s about the narrative, “they don’t understand storytelling.” If it’s about the characters, “they don’t understand nuance.” (Nuance was and still is their favorite word.) It’s self-aggrandizement.

And the LTC thing. The exaltation was always SO off-putting, and the farthest from normal or rational you could get. Then you add in all the problematic things about him that they would so quickly explain away or downplay, and vehemently say his critics were ‘reaching’. Also, if you noticed, none of these people EVER defended anyone else in the cast with even close to the same amount of vigor.

But, they have no biases, right? 

c/ranesofibycus! That’s the one. Every time I’ve tried to remember her URL, I kept calling it cranes of hibiscus lol

Anyway, yes, her too. She was the person I referenced in one of my old posts. After Matt reprimanded people on twitter over the ‘Jester ageing up’ drama, she posted this...

That was the first post that made me wary.

But, I was actually okay with her for a while. Because even after everyone else started turning shitty, she wasn’t calling people crazy or delusional, or making passive aggressive posts in the discourse tag or in OUR tag, like some assholes loved to do. She actually did keep a cool head even through all the chaos. One example, after the backlash that Liam got over his playlist pick, “She” by Dodie. She didn’t like that some people were sending nasty things to him, but she understood why it was upsetting to some people, and even admitted that she was confused when she saw the song on there. And that IS a completely rational reaction. 

That was the difference. I never felt any underlying nastiness coming from her posts, unlike the other two. b/eetlemancy became openly nasty to everybody, and l/uck had the passive aggressive vagueposting (but not so vague) down pat.

The post that finally soured me on c/ranes, was this one...

And it was in the Beaujester tag! When I first caught it while scrolling, I thought for sure it had to have come from either b/eetlemancy or t/hebeaubar, or r/edjennies, or any of those extra shady, holier-than-thou (mainly BY) blogs. But when I scrolled up and saw her URL, I was shocked.

And look who was in the notes...

#op #ask

[c0ltraine]

I follow too many people man. Everytime I actually look at my dash I see someone new that I’m apparently following and I have to question when and how that happened

#like I don’t thirst follow but I’m not conservative with that follow button #actually there’s one person that I thirst followed but I would never admit that to her #edit: there have actually been two thirst follows. the rest of you are either bc I thought your content was cool #you followed me first #or you just kept popping up on my dash so I said why not #but yeah I need to clean up my following list one day

[laufeyamp]

President Loki Headcanons Part 2/?

HEADCANON SERIES. ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ- SFW Alphabet, Part I, Part 2.

PAIRING. president!loki x gender neutral reader WORD COUNT. 0.879k

THIS WORK CONTAINS fluff, intense fluff, slightly smutty, swearing

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

he actually included the hickey request in your agreement on the following day, highlighted in bold-

*some other normal night in the Void* y/n: Good night. *ready to go to bed* President Loki: I think we missed out a truly important event, little one. y/n: ... What event? President Loki: My supper. *climbs on top of you* y/n: BE GENTLE WITH ME . 

truthfully, he’s quite tender with you compared to what you’ve expected

instead of pinning your wrists and keeping them in place, he lets your hands wander across his body to your liking so that you’ll feel safe and comfortable

he literally takes hints and observes every facial expression and body language of yours

since he genuinely cares about you, he’ll feel extremely terrible if he accidentally hurts you which is the reason why he’s so careful

he definitely picks his spot, and a different spot every . single . time .

and also, every time he does it, he has to leave at least one special love bite on a less visible area

the last time you questioned why he said it’s only for him to view and you were like “okay I guess??”

just in case if you’re wondering about the heated kiss you both shared on the night he first bit you, neither of you brought up about it

but you both felt something different for each other, which you were both too blind to perceive what exactly was it

anyways as I was saying, he teases you whenever he notices how embarrassed you are

ESPECIALLY WHEN YOU ACCIDENTALLY MOAN

y/n: *moans* Mister President- *grasps onto his horns harder* President Loki: *smirks* What was that, kitten? y/n: *embarrassed af* N-Nothing. President Loki: *bites a little harder just to hear you moan his name again* y/n: *moans* President Loki: mhm, I thought I heard something. *still smirking*

he’d definitely shower you with kisses and praises every time he’s done which is your favourite part of the whole hickey session

he is super protective of you, and it’s getting a little too over

he would never let you go out alone and you must be home by sunset

he’s just worried of your safety another thing which he would never admit either

and you being that type of person who would literally drive your way into chaos and not notice it just makes stuff ten times worse

but he also forgets the fact that you’re pretty good at getting away with it too-

y/n: I CAN PROTECT MYSELF President Loki: y/n, we all know fair well that this is a lie. Remember when you were kidnapped and held hostage by some enemies of mine in the Void? And the other time when you- *proceeds to bring up about every time you get into trouble*

on top of all of that, there’s pretty much nothing you’re worried of since you knew he’d come to your rescue no matter what

he just shows up at the perfect timing which is when you’re an inch away from death with an army of men

you consider yourself quite lucky (?) to have someone who’d go out of his way for you

and you feel rather safe under his protection, to be honest

which is one of the reasons why you’re still sticking with this president who thirsts for power

President Loki: *makes a dramatic entrance* y/n: *rolls eyes* President Loki: Whoever dares lay a finger on what’s mine will have their hands cropped. *winks at you* y/n: *eye roll intensifies*

expect him to commit a gruesome murder with the target of every single person who’s involved if he finds a scratch on you

he’s so emotionally attached to you to the point where he’d start questioning how he feels towards you whenever he realizes how his blood runs cold when it comes to you

though for someone who believes that he’s destined to be alone, he wasn’t ready to confront his feelings, nor accept any of it

especially when he’s one of the candidates in a presidential election

which leads him to deny and ignore everything he feels for you dw he’ll figure it out soon

and about him wearing his horns 24/7- 

so you barged into your room to grab an item of yours since the door wasn’t locked

and with your luck, you accidentally saw him without his horns when he just finished *cough* showering *cough*

he had his towel wrapped around his waist, water droplets on his bare chest and his greasy locks damp from the shower

he was well, truth to be told, far more built up than what you’ve pictured him to be

I MEAN JUST LOOK AT HIS TIDDIES

President Loki: *teases* Enjoy what you’re watching, pet? y/n: *cough* I was just- *averts gaze* President Loki: *smirks* I’m listening.  y/n: -just thinking if you’d have your horns on too when you’re in a shower. President Loki: *chuckles* Is that so? y/n: *stutters nervously* Y-Yeah. *looks at anywhere but his abs* Where else do you uhm, think I would be looking at? President Loki: ... y/n: ... y/n: *glances at his tiddies very quickly* President Loki: CAUGHT IN ACTION. y/n: ... god damn it. *doesn’t even try to hide the fact that you’re staring anymore*

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

SYD .ೃ࿐ Reblogs and interactions are greatly appreciated, thank you for reading.

#lokiodinson #loki odinson x y/n #loki odinson x you #loki odinson x reader #tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston x you #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston imagine #tom hiddleston fluff #Loki Laufeyson #loki laufeyson x you #loki laufeyson x reader #loki laufeyson x gender neutral reader #loki laufeyson x y/n #loki #loki x reader #loki x y/n #loki x you #loki x reader fluff #mcu loki #loki fluff #president loki #president loki fluff #president loki x you #president loki x y/n #loki imagine #loki oneshot #loki series #president loki smut #loki smut

[heyheydidjaknow]

Original Ask: Do you think you can do bayverse tmnt turtles for Leo, raph, donnie, Mikey as its goes like this , they were raised by the shredder as they're father died after their mutation as he didn't make it out the fire , they all the best foot clan soldier and obedient dogs they are and satisfied the shredder and they are given access to their pleasure and women , when they are doing a crime , they come across (s/o) , who she is just walking and gets robbed by a gang and the turtles come to the rescue and they start a liking of (s/o), who treats them kindly but they want to break her and make them theirs , as kidnapping her and forcing her into sexual acts with them as they want her all for themselves

I cut this one a bit shorter than I might have because I wanted to actually be able to release it with the others. It’s also a bit more innocent than the others, but that isn’t saying much. I might continue this one on my own time, actually, but that’s neither here nor there. The other parts of this request are linked at the end.

Note that the following content contains stalking, kidnapping, and other content you may find disturbing. Discretion is advised.

Donatello

He was not particularly good at fighting, had little passion for it, and never claimed otherwise. He had little place amongst his brothers, but use amongst the Foot. There were reasons for him not to leave, not the least of which being that the only people he knew were there, and if he did leave he had nowhere to go. Unlike his brothers, he was acutely aware of the legal ramifications of their involvement with the Foot; there were worse things, he supposed, than having to be involved in this sort of thing under the condition of not getting caught. Personality-wise, he was colder, but the burning curiosity was still there, fueled by his master’s willingness to embrace the future and his need for a good accountant. He had never been stronger than his siblings, but he was naturally stronger than humans and made do with what he could, and though his guardian– not father, he knew, never father– was not particularly keen with his overthinking, he respected education and technology enough to allow him the resources necessary to do a lot of the more math and science-oriented work he excelled at, though his advancements scientifically were typically more to do with biochemistry than mechanical engineering. As a result of all this, he rarely went out on missions, only really being called in to talk to other people outside of his brothers for training purposes (the old adage proved true; he made a fine teacher.)

It got lonely. He would be the first to admit it. The only one who would talk to him was Michelangelo, the other two considering themselves too above him to waste their time. Though he was not a social creature by nature, there was something disheartening, even to him, about spending almost every waking hour surrounded on all sides by screens, working for more for the sake of working than any definitive, tangible purpose outside of a short-sighted dream. He enjoyed what he did, sure, but he quickly came to understand that this alone was not sufficient in fulfilling all of his needs, socially speaking. YouTube videos and meal breaks only counted for so much, and even if he were to indulge in the women he was allowed, in his mind, it was about as pointless as curbing hunger with cotton balls, like curbing thirst with a coffee; momentary satisfaction with no substance. If he were to buy a woman, he understood, the odds of her loving him were near nonexistent.

That was what he was looking for. Not love, necessarily, but something akin to what he understood it to be as derived from pirated movies, articles, and videos: unconditional romantic affection derived from character as opposed to accomplishment. If he were to get in any sort of relationship with the women who wanted him, he understood, that would be essentially impossible, since no woman in her right mind would consciously decide to love an Oroku. This fact, that this seemingly paramount human experience was one he would personally be unable to ever have, was disheartening, but not cripplingly so. He saw it a bit like death: an unfortunate inevitably completely out of his control, but not the worst thing in the world. It was not so much a painful absence as it was an uncomfortable one, one that his brothers coped in other ways that he just happened to find largely insufficient.

He started using chat rooms when he was relatively young out of sexual curiosity. He thought, at the time, that he could imitate sex anonymously as well any normal person would. Of course, it never went anywhere, but on occasion– once, every six months or so, when the isolation got to him– he would return to the sites he had visited with the pretense of seeing what had changed since he had last logged on. One of the sites he had found and used was a chat-roulette style anonymous room in which you would simply type in your basic information and a user name and begin rolling for partners. It was on one of these nostalgic revisits that he met you, unique in the fact that you had sent a greeting as opposed to the customary “asl?” common amongst the chatroom community. It had been a lovely conversation about a movie you had recently watched that he was familiar with, the first of its kind in quite some time, and had gone so well, in your opinion, that you wanted to continue it. You offered him contact information via a third-party messaging system he was personally unfamiliar with and offered to talk to him again.

Messaging you quickly became an integral part of his daily routine. Every night, at around seven, he would message you, and more often than not, you messaged back within the hour. Your conversations were hardly ground-breaking to him, mostly regarding media the two of you were familiar with, but they were extraordinary in their innocuousness, in how relaxed they were. He told you as much, and after a month or so of you messaging him unprompted by anything but tradition, you introduced him to your online friends. You invited him into group chats. They thought he was odd– you knew most of them in real life– but you had gone so far as to vouch for him. “He’s shy is all,” you teased, not understanding what it meant to him that you bothered. “Enjoy it while it lasts. When he starts talking, he cannot shut up.” Pretty soon, he had something akin to friends, if only for your sake, and while your group and he mixed as well as oil and water, he was allowed and welcomed with arms more open than he was used to. This investment in your conversations only grew when, after about a month, you had your first call. If you recognized his voice, you did not say, and though the first call was possibly the tensest of his life, after that, it became as natural as breathing, talking to you.

He explained it to a transfixed Mikey, once. “Talking to her,” he had sighed, a smile spreading slowly across his face, “ just makes sense.”

The thought had first crossed his mind on a Tuesday night. He remembered specifically that it was a Tuesday because a restaurant you happened to frequent gave you a discount on Tuesdays, a prospect which delighted you to no end. Unlike most nights, however, you had deemed the walk – by your estimate, ten minutes– to be a stupid use of energy, and ordered in. This in itself would have been unremarkable had it not been that you had never used their delivery service before and had, thus, made the order over the phone, and for you to receive your food, you needed to give the restaurant your address. Half an hour later, you received your food– or, anyways, you vocalized as much– and the conversation went on as normal.

That night, after the two of you had signed off, working on a neurotoxin Shredder had requested, he found himself drifting back to the call, the address. He had not left his laboratory in quite some while, so his knowledge of the streets above was somewhat limited, but he knew where you were. It was not particularly far, about a half-hour walk on a busy night, twenty of a slower one. So long as progress was made, he knew, he would hardly be penalized for taking a break, for walking around. It was not as if he was being held against his will; he could, if he so chose, walk to where you lived, just to get an idea of what your life was like beyond the screen. You thought he lived in Montana. You would never need to know he was there.

He shut it down at first. A part of him was worried that you might have been lying to him, or that he might be careless and get caught. If you found out, you might stop talking to him. You would hate him.

Minds that can stand to stare at test tubes, spreadsheets, and code for long periods, however, were hardly made to simply let things go.

After about a month, on a day in which his experiments needed little personal monitoring, on a Friday night, he convinced you to try to stay up for the sake of seeing how long you could go. It was not the most elaborate or well-thought-out excuse in the world to make sure that you were asleep, but he was confident in his ability to outlast you, and sure enough, you were out before he even had to reach for caffeine. Finding your address was about as simple as he had imagined it to be, and though finding which window would give him a decent look at you without arousing the suspicions of anyone else who happened to pass by proved to be a bit of a challenge, he managed well enough.

He thought your voice matched your appearance. He had asked you basic questions in the past– hair color, eye color and symbolism, things like that– but he never would have expected that you looked so real, and though there were certain aspects of you that he was simply unable to see due to distance, he could not help but drink in the sight of you.

Your name was not hard to find online. He was not the computer wizard he might have been, but he was still comfortable enough around electronics to figure it out. He did not visit every night. He had things to do, numbers, and tests to run, and he hardly had the free time to check on you that often. He considered installing a camera somewhere, but thought better of it; while installing it and connecting it would be easy enough, he was unsure that he would be able to find a place where you would not find it, and he hardly wanted to make you paranoid. As often as he could afford to go, however, he saw you. Sometimes you were awake, headphones on, and oblivious to all but what was on your computer, others you were fast asleep. If he was feeling particularly daring, he would go so far as to watch you while the two of you talked or messaged. He never went into your home on these visits– he considered that a step too far– but that hardly discouraged him any. He would not personally call himself “addicted to you” in the same way that songs seemed to always advertise, but Donnie would be the first to admit that the transition from a warm sort of affection towards you to the undeniable romantic attraction was not a gradual one. Love– or whatever this was– certainly did feel a lot like falling, and the shift promoted what he decided to call a hyper fixation.

“You should just take her.”

His fingers paused over his keyboard, processing what his brother had just said. “What?”

“You should just take her,” his younger brother repeated, a cadence similar to that of someone telling their friend to “shoot their shot”. “Grab her, carry her over, and keep her here.”

“I can’t kidnap her.” The laugh that bubbled in his throat was one of incredulity. “That’s– that’s ridiculous! Why would I– why would you even suggest that?”

If he was joking, Michelangelo was very good at hiding it. “What’s stopping you?”

“The law,” Donnie snarked back, ignoring how his heart leaped at the idea. “It’s illegal, and women apparently don’t take too kindly to it, so all it would do was make her dislike me or get me arrested.”

He chuckled at that. “I thought you said we’re doomed if we get found out anyway!” He walked over to him, flicking him as he hopped onto his older brother’s desk. “The only reason you don’t is that you’re scared that she’s not gonna like you,”

“Am not!”

“Are too.” He grinned, draping his feet over his older sibling’s backrest. “You know who didn’t think he’d get the girl at the end?”

It was moments like these when he regretted sharing his interests. “Who, Mikey?”

“Mark from BJD. And you know who got the girl at the end of that movie?”

You would hate him. “Mark.”

“Mark.” He removed his legs, folding them with a complete disregard for the papers strewn about it. “And girls totally dig that movie! That actor is in a ton of romantic movies, and you know why, Donnie?”

Even if it would be a dream come true for him, you would hate him. “Why?”

“Because he was willing to go for her even if she didn’t know he wanted her.” He slipped off the desk, and his brother, lost in thought, barely noticed the papers that slid onto the floor.

“She’d…” He shut himself down. “We aren’t human. There’s a difference.”

“Beauty and the Beast.” Mikey counted on his fingers. “Twilight. When has a lack of humanity ever stopped anyone?”

An indescribable sort of warmth filled him. “We’re criminals,” he mumbled, more to himself than his brother. “We can’t... I can’t…”

“You know how many women would kill to be with us?” He slipped his hands into his pockets. “Many. Chicks totally dig bad boys, and yeah, sure, maybe you don’t do much–”

“The hell I don’t.”

“-- But you’re still an Oroku, son of the leader of the infamous Foot Clan.” His voice lowered as he leaned his elbows against the desk, watching his brother’s face. “And, hey? At least it would objectively not be the worst thing you’ve ever done.”

Michelangelo never brought it up again. Neither did he. About a month later, he ran out of excuses not to. A month after that, he took you.

The order was not questioned. They would have to be suicidal to question the intentions of an Oroku.

The first couple of weeks were the worst. For lack of a place to put you, he kept you in his lab, blindfolded, strapped to a metal chair he had designed a week in advance. It was hardly comfortable, and he regretted not having someplace nicer to keep you, but it served its purpose. You stayed put, and that was what was important at that point. The first day was distressing for you if your cries and pleas for help were any indicators, but he thought better of giving you something to calm you down. You needed to adjust on your own; sedatives were to only be used if absolutely necessary. Mikey, ever the extrovert, proved to be rather helpful as the days went on. He was more than willing to talk to you while his brother worked, to ease you into feeling something akin to comfort, and over the course of the week, you screamed less and less.

On day nine, he talked to you. Same time as was customary before. He had brought you all your meals, helped you with blood circulation and other necessary actions, but he had not talked to you for fear you would hate him. You had stopped screaming, though; he hoped you would be at least a bit more receptive, after all this time.

He knelt before you, then, having asked Mikey to leave them. He did not protest, giving a thumbs up on his way out. Gently, he bowed, letting himself be cradled in your thighs. It was the first time he had touched you, laying his head on your lap. If you minded this simple show of affection, you did not vocalize it.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, absent. You were so warm.

He was unsure if you heard.

His eyes rose to yours, obscured by the blindfold. “I should have planned better,” he admitted, a smile ghosting across his face. “It all happened so fast; you deserve better.”

You were shaking.

He rose to his feet, forearm pressed into the backrest of your chair. Carefully, he pressed his forehead against yours. “Why are you crying?” A free hand cupped your face, lifting the blindfold just enough so that he could wipe your tears away. “I won’t hurt you, I promise.”

If he was farther away, he would not have heard your question. “Why?” you breathed. “I don’t understand. Why would you do this?”

His brow furrowed. “Are you scared?”

Your breathing stuttered.

He pulled away slightly. It was inevitable. Change was hard. You would come around.

You just needed time.

Leonardo

Raphael

Michelangelo

Previous Works

#teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt #tmnt fanfiction #bayverse turtles #teenage mutant ninja turtles 2014 #donatello x reader #donatello hamato #tmnt donatello #donatello #donnie x reader #donnie #tw kidnapping #tw stalking #tmnt donnie #tmnt x reader

[cardansriddle]

Could you do a Yandere Tom Riddle where he meets S/O who is exactly like him Slytherin, Halfblood, conceived under a love potion and cold at heart? (You can if you want to)

Destined- Tom Riddle

A/N: I have to admit I strayed away from the topic just a tad bit and got carried away. I did not really explore the Yandere side of Tom here, and this is kinda shitty i know. But I decided to post it nonetheless.

He heard whispers about you.

It had not been surprising at first, Hogwarts did not allow any transfers, yet apparently you had been an exception. Perhaps that should have been his first sign to gain information on you, after all, you had to be quite extraordinary for the Headmaster to make an exception, right? However, he had completely overlooked your arrival, not giving her a second glance during the classes, in the hallways, or at the Slytherin table where he would dine.

Yet two weeks passed, and while Tom had expected the whispers to cease, they seemed to increase each day. That was the exact reason why he had decided to finally see what all the fuss was about. What was so special about you that no one could shut up about the new girl?

His fellow Slytherins would always sneer whenever your name came up. He was tired of Abraxas going on a rant about how halfbloods were not pure enough to be sorted into Slytherin, and once Tom had snapped, throwing a hex at him to shut him up. After all, he was a halfblood as well.

He was hidden in the safety of the shadows, tracking your silent steps as you moved through the corridors of the ancient castle, your soft hair cascading down your back while you adjusted the strap of your bag, releasing a frustrated huff every now and then. Many would move out of your way, parting and allowing you to pass and Tom's brows furrowed at the obvious action of fear— or was it respect?— as he continued to follow you.

After a short while, his patience started to run out, and he was quite tired of tracking your steps. The boy was tempted to slip some truth serum into your drink at some point, yet he had refrained, a part of him knowing you would somehow take notice of the trickery. He knew it by the way your eyes would survey the room very carefully as if you were cautious and distrustful of everyone that surrounded you. It bothered him how similar both of your mindsets were.

He heard you had managed to hex a handful of students ever since your arrival, whispering such threats in their ears that they would leave with trembling limbs. 

You had darkness in you, and Tom was planning on unleashing it.

You finally made it to the library, politely greeting the old librarian before moving to your usual table in the corner, a space that was secluded and away from prying eyes. You pulled out an unfamiliar book and did not waste a second before you were indulged in it.

Tom watched, as your brows knitted together in concentration, as you pulled your lower lip in between your thumb and pointer finger, as you ran a hand through your soft hair in frustration, and he devoured every little action. 

A little amount of time passes before he could not stand the questions gnawing at his mind, so he finally decided to approach you, settling in the chair next to you with grace.

You looked up from your book, your expression annoyed as you stared at the Prefect next to you. "Can I help you?"

He did not respond for a brief moment, as his eyes fell to the cover of the book you were currently reading. 'Love Potions: The Dangers and Effects'

"An interesting choice of book." He expressed his thought sourly, wondering why she would waste her time reading a book on Love Potions. Had he miscalculated things? Was she not special? Was she just another foolish girl searching for love? He almost gagged at the thought.

"Not particularly." You answered with a tired sigh. "It was apparently written by an imbecile because there is no useful information in here." With that said, you snapped the book shut and turned to him, cocking an eyebrow. "Is there something you need, Riddle? Because I would rather not waste my time and chit-chat."

"Many would love to be in your place and chit-chat with me, darling." He answered, his lips curling into a smug smirk. You rolled your eyes at his arrogance. "What was it that you were looking for in a book about Love Potions?"

You glanced at him, debating whether or not to actually answer his question. You've heard that Tom Riddle was the brightest student in school, and after some contemplation, you came to the conclusion that perhaps he would have some insight on the subject you were so interested in.

"What do you know about children conceived under the effects of a love potion?" You asked, and quirked a brow as his body stilled. His guarded eyes searched your face before he straightened his spine.

"Why are you asking?"

You sighed then, figuring he did not know about it. "Forget it. You're just as useless as the imbecile who wrote this." You made a move to grab your book and put it back in your bag, yet you were startled when his hand slammed on the table, the other grabbing the back of your chair as he leaned in towards you.

"Watch your mouth." He snarled.

"Jeez, you're sensitive." You smirked as you put your hand on his chest in an attempt to push him away. 

He continued to glare at you, even as he settled back in his seat.

"Children conceived under the love potion are told to be void of most of the emotions. They cannot feel, they cannot sympathise, and cannot feel love."

His words caused you to freeze in your place, and it was as if realisation dawned upon you as you stared numbly at your hands. So that is why you felt no remorse, no regret, no guilt- and no love towards the people you were supposed to care about.

He watched you, as you seemed to be mulling over things in your head, and a thought struck his head. 

“Were you conceived under the effects of the love potion?”

You looked up, surprised at his bluntness. 

You debated lying to him, yet you knew Tom Riddle, and he was not the type to gossip or indulge in similar useless activities, so with a bitter smile, you responded. “Yes. I was.”

Something churned in Tom’s heart, something dangerous as he stared at you. You were...similar to him. He had never been able to say that about someone. There had been no one that could understand his feelings- or well, the lack of- and now there you were, the one person in the universe who happened to have the same unfortunate fate as him.

“So was I.” Was his unexpected response. You saw no deception behind his gaze and knew he had no reason or motive to lie about such a thing, and you believed him.

It was then that you had formed a bond that went unspoken. It was as if you understood each other without needing to speak the words. And that is how that weird night blossomed into days of spending time together, becoming friends. It was quite easy, you matched each other’s level both emotionally and intellectually, and it came as a relief to the both of you.

Whatever you two had, had blossomed into a deep trustful releationship, and you had been informed of Tom’s plans for the future. As expected, you supported his idea, his beliefs, and your own thirst for power had you feeling giddy at the idea of becoming unstoppable.

It was when you were both at that same table in the library when he spoke the words that you swore made you feel something.

“As I rule over the world.” He breathed. “I want you by my side, ruling as the Dark Lady. The world will be ours. We will be a force to be reckoned with.”

You had looked up at him with utter yet pleasant surprise, and you had felt your lips curl into a smirk as you agreed, because how could you not when he was offering the whole world to you?

He then had grabbed your chin, lifting your face and brushing his soft lips against yours. 

That day, he had kissed you so hard, you thought your lips would bruise, yet you did not dare complain. If that was what pain felt like, you would take it every day, only to feel his lips on yours once more.

The universe had created you for one another, two similar souls destined for a great purpose. Destined to rule the world.

#tom riddle #tom marvolo riddle #tom riddle fanfic #tom riddle fanfiction #tom riddle one shot #tom riddle imagine #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle x you #tom riddle x oc #tom riddle angst #tom riddle fluff #idk what this is

[lustbile]

To Provoke

Incubus!HaechanxReader

Word Count: 4.4K

Warning: dom-ish haechan, semi public (alley way), oral&fingering, biting, blood consumption, & can maybe be interpreted as degrading but not really

notes: a resounding thank you to whoever gave haechan curls and horns im in love with you nct stylist person. I wrote this all today and it made me stupid so I will try to go through and do more editing. Also not that I think anyone would, but I made the edit for this, horns and all, and im asking politely no one repost it, i know it’s not the most extravagant edit but im asking u pls.

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Multi group Masterlist

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You were trying to provoke him.

You were always trying to provoke him.

Everything you did, every move, blink, sigh, and turn was an attempt to pull him from the shadows.

To admit you’re addicted to him is embarrassing, degrading even, especially with the way it fills his chest and wild eyes with hunger and pride. His ego was one thing that never needed to grow, big enough to fill every nook and cranny of the universe, but something about the way your pretty eyes would glitter at him in awe pushed it over the edge in free fall.

The outfit you chose to wear was maybe a bit too revealing for the weather, the nipping cold dancing along your shoulders and thighs in a way that makes your stomach clench and your teeth chatter. But it was the same outfit you had worn on the night you had met him, the outfit that his greedy fingers tugged and pulled on to get access to your skin, and it still had the smallest of tears in the seem from his impatience that night.

But it got you attention, and that's what mattered in the end.

He had always had a jealous streak, something he’d deny sharply if you had the nerve to accuse him, but that didn’t change the fact that some of your best nights with him were spent after he showed up to remind you that your body and skin were for him only. And that jealousy was the exact thing you needed to get him to show his face again.

It had been far too long since you had felt him last. You had no clue where he could have possibly ran off to for such a long time, but that didn’t stop the fire that was building in your belly. And no matter how many times you tried, your own wandering hands were never enough to quench your body’s thirst like he could.

The man you spoke to at the club meant less than nothing to you, even when you felt his growing excitement pressing against your back when you agreed to dance with him. The sloppy kisses you allowed him to press against the skin of your neck felt no different than just air as your mind was too distracted by the man that had taken ownership of your heart and soul so long ago, regardless of his absence.

It didn’t feel long before the lights became too bright, the alcohol that sloshed in your cup too bitter for your tongue, and the smell of the strange man too stale and unfamiliar. But when you pushed away from his chest and checked the time on your phone, while you ignored his grumbled complaints of you being a tease, you saw that it was only a handful of minutes past midnight.

You had stayed out much longer than that before, much later in fact and with glee, but something in your chest, a heavy and daunting weight, was pulling you towards the entrance on unsteady feet and a taunting disappointment on your shoulders.

Your mind still felt muggy even after you broke away from the stuffy environment of the building, but you brushed it off as a combination of the minimal alcohol you’d consumed and the angry unsatisfied monster that had made home in your gut.

You had enough of a head on your shoulders to scan your purse for your pepper spray and pocket knife before you decided that maybe the short walk home would help clear your mind and disappointment. It was still cold, your icy fingertips begging for a uber or cab instead, but you were hoping the biting chill would help calm down whatever lustful beast you had become because of a man you couldn't even contact.

Your legs felt too heavy to carry with every step you took, your neck feeling like your necklaces were made from tons of lead instead of whatever cheap metal the random online store you had ordered them from used. You were grateful that the only company you had on the back streets you had chosen to take were the flickering street lamps and the skittering rats you could hear in each alley you passed.

You could almost taste the relief of the cheap bottles of wine you had stashed in your kitchen paired with a trashy netflix horror film when you turned onto your street, your apartment building somehow looking inviting with its old brick and foggy windows as it sat on the corner. The only thing stopping you from kicking off your heels and making a run for it being the memory of one of your less than polite neighbors dropping a large glass vase and not feeling any need to pick up the broken pieces before leaving for the day.

Instead you grit your teeth to help bear the pinching of your shoes, and break into a quick and awkward jog down the desolate stretch of sidewalk. Your eyes watering as you're met with icy air.

Peace and warmth and cheap familiar alcohol is only a few strides away when you hear it. To anyone else in the city it would have been no different than the sounds of an everyday creature scavenging in the trash for food, but you had lived here long enough to know what's a rat or raccoon or, in this case, a cat.

It was a stray you had befriended long ago, one that could climb and duck into your conveniently opened balcony door for a bowl of food and a scratch behind the ears. It was just a sweet little boy that was grey and covered with scratches and scars, but due to a no pet policy had to be kept labeled as a stray and a secret to your landlord.

You huff in frustration, assuming he would have been curled up on your couch when you returned home and not chasing rats in the alley next to your building, but he had always been mischievous from the day you met him. So with the hope that you could block his image from the security cameras, you turn and head into the dim light of the small alley.

You had lovingly dubbed him Oscar when you came home more than once to your trash can tipped over and learned he had a special love for garbage, and that name along with some weird chattering cooing left you mouth as you tried to coax him from whatever trash can he was creating chaos within.

Your teeth were already gritted and you back stiff as the playful feline found enjoyment in jumping out and scaring you in times like this and you assumed this time would be no different as his evilness seemed to only raise as it got deeper and deeper into the night. So you were already mentally prepared for an attack from an overly excited ball of fur, what you weren’t prepared for was a voice.

“What are you doing out so late?” the voice was gruff and slightly accusatory and made you all but jump completely out of your skin. And as you whip around in circles to try to find the face that the words feel from, you see your love and joy Oscar jump from the tallest trash can and scale the fire escape up to scramble back into your home like a guilty teenager that was caught by their mother.

“I asked you a question,” this time the words were followed by strong hands gripping your shoulders and a shrill yelp escaping your throat.

Your hand was pushing into your purse for at least one of your weapons as you squat to get out of the person's hold and turn to see their face, the grinning and prideful boy behind you washes you with a wave of relief before stabbing at you with annoyance.

“Haechan, what the fuck,” you whisper harshly as you pull your hand from your purse and stand up straight, your now free hand now moving to jab a rough finger into the dip of his chest, “how many times? How many times have I told you to not fucking sneak up on me like that. I know the pepper spray can’t hurt you and a stab wound would heal in like five minutes but that doesn’t mean I want to stab you, idiot.”

“Why not?” his head jerks back as if you said something dumb like the sky wasn’t actually blue or he wasn’t really the sexiest man to live, something that just has no logic behind it in the slightest, “like you said it would heal so maybe we could try, might be kinda hot.”

He punctuates his words by grabbing you roughly by the waist, his other hand wrapping gently around your neck before he pushes you against the rough brick behind you, the permanent evil glimmer in his eyes sparkling with excitement.

“Do you ever get tired of being an absolute freak?” you thinly veiled insult doesn’t pack as much of a punch as you had maybe hoped, but when he begins to mouth at the skin of your jaw and cheek you can’t really find it within yourself to care.

“Well isn’t that why you like me?” he asks rhetorically as he starts to nip light bruises in the spots that blur your vision, “freaky me must be your favorite, because otherwise you wouldn’t be dressed the way you are.”

He’s no wrong, not even in the slightest, but the confident way in which he says it is enough to make you want to lie, “wanting you and liking you are two different things, no one ever said I liked you.”

“Oh but you want me,” the way in which he takes everything you say in strides without even batting an eye is bit infuriating, but the way his fingers tighten against your neck and push into your jugular is enough to make you melt against him, “that’s what you said so for once that’s not me putting words into your pretty little mouth. But don’t say you don’t like me, that’s a dirty lie and we both know it.”

“You don’t like when I lie?” you pout at him, trying to pull more and more reactions from him, “but some of your favorite things I say are lies, like how big you are and how well you fuc-“

“Alright that’s enough of you,” he interrupts, his fist tightening that much more and his other slipping from your waist to reach under the hem of your dress, a satisfied growl and his tongue pressing into the inside of his cheek being his reaction when he realizes the underwear he was grabbing for wasn’t there, “I’ve had to watch you prance around all night, letting a low down dog of a man touch you. And for what? My attention? Baby, you already have my attention.”

Your words stutter violently, the only sounds coming from your throat are whines and gasps as his fingers slip between your thighs and glide against the dampened skin, never staying on your clit long enough to give you the pleasure you need but enough to make you squirm.

“You were watching me?” you finally gasp out, before it clicks in your brain how dumb of a question it was. He told you a long time ago that he always will keep an eye on you, and knowing what he is and the things he can do, you had no reason to not believe him.

“I always am my pretty baby,” he coos before pressing teasing kisses to your open mouth, seemingly tasting and feeding off of every little noise that slips out, “and it hurts to see you let such a nasty man touch you where only I should. You didn’t even notice him following you out of that trashy club did you, silly thing?”

You jerk back as much as you can with the way he holds you, eyes widening at the news that you were apparently being followed without your knowledge. Every emotion that swims in your brain feels like its fighting for dominance, but with the way he chooses to dip his middle and ring fingers just barely past your entrance you’re struggling to cling to just one.

“God, you are so lucky to have me aren’t you? Who else would take care of creeps and make you feel good hm?” he tilts his head as he speaks, his breath warm against the side of your face before his tongue dips to lick at the shell of your ear, “no one can make you feel the way I do can they?”

“No,” you finally answer after a moment, the word coming out as an airy breath as his fingers finally sink in all the way. He wastes no time before curling them and pressing at the spot that makes your knees buckle, “please Haechan, need you so bad.”

“Oh is that one of those infamous lies of yours you were talking about?” he pulls away slightly, but shows no interest in slowing the motions of his hand, “well it can’t be can it? I can always tell you know? Can hear the way your heart picks up when you lie, much different than the way it does when you’re about to come for me.”

His wrist starts to move faster, the heel of his hand finally pressing and rubbing against your clit as the muscles of his forearm start to strain. The telling signs of your orgasm feel too sudden, too fast, and with his hand still constricting the blood that tries to flow to your head all you can do is let your eyes roll as your breathing comes out as small puffs.

“But since you’ve asked so nicely,” you can only let out a pathetic cry when he pulls his hand away from you suddenly, your lack of oxygen being the only thing stopping you from letting out a scream loud enough for the whole block to hear as he denies you of any stimulation. All you can do is let out incoherent babbling and whines as your hands reach up to dig your nails into the leather jacket protecting his forearms.

He releases your neck, your skin burning from the friction and the sudden amount of oxygen and blood returning to your head making you dizzy. And while your eyes roll as they try to refocus and your heart rate begins to slow to normal, he grabs your wrists and pushes your weakened form to be flush against the wall thats scrapes against your exposed skin.

“You are by far the best thing ive ever tasted,” he mutters, not concerned with whether you heard him or not, before his mouth latches to the side of your neck. He seems to find the most interest in the finger prints he left behind, as he pulls the tender skin between his sharp teeth and works to create a bruise that won’t leave you for another week.

Regardless of denying you a proper release, he considers himself to still be a generous guy. As his tongue lays flat against the burning skin of your neck, he starts to kick at your feet until your clumsy legs are falling apart wide enough for him to press his thigh against your skin, and in the exact way he predicted, you can’t help but to begin grinding helplessly against him.

One of the main reasons the dress that you currently wear is one of his favorites, is the neckline. Low enough to show the expanse of your chest and just enough of your cleavage to make him salivate. He’s as transparent as glass with this love, especially as he mouth travels down between your collarbones and sternum.

You can hear a quiet pop in the fabric of the neckline when he bites down and begins to pull it with him as he sinks down to the floor, the huff you let out being both in frustration from him further ruining a nice dress and your impatience.

The straps dig harshly into the skin of your shoulders before they give and fall, the sudden lack of support making it easier for Haechan to take the fabric and expose your chest to the cold air.

The look in his eyes when you look down is mean and predatory, you fear one day he’ll snap and consume you whole, but for today he settles for wrapping his swollen lips around your nipple and sucking harshly.

Your hips quicken involuntary, broken moans filling the empty alley as you twitch and squirm in his hold. He seems to grow irritated at your impatience as he shoves your wrists back harshly, his knuckles audibly scraping against the brick.

“You can never be patient to save your life,” his head tilts forward and he presses his forehead against your sternum with a huff before he’s leaning back up to press a sloppy kiss against your panting mouth, “you’re lucky I missed you so much or otherwise you’d be in for a lot longer of a night.”

He keeps your wrists trapped in his hold as he moves to kneel on the ground, the rough and dirtied pavement doing nothing to help the tears that already litter his jeans.

You feel your face flush when he lets go of one wrist and uses his newly freed hand to shove the hem of your dress up and around your hips, and the burning beneath your skin only worsens when he leans forward and breathes deeply with his nose pressed against your pubic bone.

He leans back for a moment, his hand wrapping around the bend of your knee to pull your leg to rest on his shoulder and you feel your shoulder sting from the wall cutting into your skin from him moving you like a doll.

“Haechan,” you whisper his name out with a pout that you hope will get you exactly what you want, but you can only huff and petulantly twitch when he begins nipping and licking at the skin on the insides of your thighs.

His teeth are sharper than most, and he usually airs on the side of caution because he’s aware of this. His bites are gentle for the most part, but when you begin to peak in your feelings of impatience, you can’t help the way your hips begin jerking forwards in search of his tongue.

His palm pushing against your hip is his first warning, a generous one in his opinion, but when the warning seems to fly completely over your pretty little head he has no other choice but to lean forward and sink his teeth into delicate skin at the bend of your thigh.

You cry out for a second before you’re tucking your lip between your teeth. It stings terribly, the skin breaking around his teeth burns but you can’t stop the way you revel in the sharp pain. And at the exact same moment you taste the metallic ting of the blood falling from your bitten lip, you feel the same warm thick liquid drip from the wounds he’s created and straight into his grinning mouth.

More blood falls freely when he pulls his teeth from your flesh, his warm tongue flattening against the injury immediately to catch as much of the liquid as possible.

He laps at it for a moment, savoring as much of the taste of your life source as possible, before he starts at the bottom of the bite mark and drags slowly up.

Once his tongue moves off the wound, he continues across your skin. The moment he hits your labia, you let out a gasp and jerk against him again, your mind completely erasing the fact that the bite was meant to be a punishment for that exact thing.

He seems to have forgotten him wanting you to remain still, as he doesn’t hesitate in the slightest until his licking across your stil swollen bundle of nerves.

He moans as the flavor of your arousal mixes with the still lingering taste of your blood, the vibrations shooting straight up your spine and making you shiver.

He tilts his head up to smile at you, his eyes shining as he grabs your hands and moving them to thread into his curled hair.

“Why are you shivering?” he asks with a faux concern, his right hand smoothing over your thigh before pushing between your legs to return his fingers to their spot inside of you, immediately pumping and curling them slowly, “are you cold or something? Maybe it’s because you’re in such a skimpy little dress?”

You groan out in annoyance at his playful act, your eyes rolling back but for once not in pleasure. It’s not until he starts to proudly giggle to himself do you exploit the hold you have on the back of his head to push him back to your body.

You fear that being shoved around may be the exact thing Haechan would have wanted, when he happily moans before latching his lips to your clit again, but the pleasure that melts your muscles erases any need to call him out on his deviousness and perverted enjoyment.

He seems happy with your moving hips when they start to move against his waiting face. Your fingers mindlessly and desperately tug at his scalp as your head tilts back and thumps against the wall.

The hand that isn’t pressed deeply inside you slides across your hip, his callused fingers making goosebumps run up your arms as they push into your lower belly.

You can feel yourself fluttering around his fingers as the curl and push apart, your thighs tensing around his bobbing head as he licks and bites gently at your clit. It feels like it’s harder to catch your breath and you know you’re only moments from orgasm.

“Please, please,” you start to stutter the word over and over, praying both that he lets you come and that you’re neighbors are deep enough in sleep to not hear the noises you know will escape you.

You almost cry in relief when you feel his shoulders shift, his face and fingers both pressing deeper from the movement in a way that tells you he has no intention on letting up on your shivering body.

His blunt nails start to scratch into your skin and you can feel his heavy panting breath against your skin every time he begins to lap at you desperately. You can feel your muscles lose even more strength, and your head becoming heavier and dazed as he coaxed you closer and closer to your finish.

Your shoulders twitch up towards your ears and you feel your stomach clench as your back curves, small whines and whimpers leave you as the heel of your foot thumps against the space between his shoulder blades.

You gasp out when you feel it, them. They start as small bumps beneath your palms, and you feel your chest tighten when it clicks what they are.

He’s always had a good hold on controlling them, keeping them hidden so he can wreak havoc without being clocked as something inhuman. They had peaked out a few times, usually in moments like this, but it’s such a rarity that you can’t stop the way your heart begins to thump in your chest.

Out of everything about him, you were obsessed with all of him, but you loved his horns the most. They were small and sharp at the side of his head and the way he looks when they’re poking out amongst his curled hair, and especially when he was grumpy or mad, made you want to jump on him and kiss him all over.

You were so caught up and distracted by them growing to full size directly under your hands you forgot how sharp they were at their tapered ends. The reminder you get is when they sharply down push into your palms like thorns.

You gasp sharply, but the way they curl makes you afraid to pull away. It makes you tremble and flush with embarrassment, but the pain bleeding into your hands is the last straw on your nerves. All you can do is wrap your now bleeding hands around the horns and cry out into the cold air as your erratic hips move across his face.

He groans deeply against you as your nails scrape at the skin that surrounds the base of his horns, the feeling of his and his still moving tongue pushes you through and past your gasping orgasm.

You sign in relief when he finally detaches from your body, his mouth moving up to press your hip and across the space of your stomach the dress reveals. He puts your leg down slowly and he creeps back up your torso, now hyper aware of your wounded hands still stuck on his horns.

“Sorry my love, they’re kinda sharp aren’t they?” he rhetorically asks with a soft but guilty grin. He stays ducked down enough that your hands don’t go too high that they start to slip, and he follows with his own to help you detach them.

“I just keep making my mark on you tonight huh?” he sighs as he stands at full height and brings your still bleeding hands to his face. You grit your teeth and scrunch your nose when he gives you a knowing look that says ‘we both know what I have to do.’

He is quick and gentle when he swipes his tongue across the deep cuts in your hands, not wanting it to sting more than necessary.

A teasing grin fills his face when he looks up to see the tired pout on your face, “just like the one on your leg, there won’t be anything left than a bruise if you just wait like an hour,” he’s sincere in his words, and you know it works, but you still feel all wounded and tired.

“Take me home,” you demand, wrapping your slowly healing hands around his shoulders and leaning until your head rests against his shoulder.

“Hey now,” he contradicts his tone by wrapping his arm around your waist and helping guide you walk to your apartment, “you still have to feed Oscar, and take a shower, and I’m not even full yet so you have to let me play with you until I wear you out.”

His tone is far too genuine and loving for the words he says, and you swat weakly at his chest in annoyance, but all he does in response is a laugh.

#nct smut #haechan smut #nct imagine #nct oneshot #haechan oneshot #haechan imagine #nct 127 smut #nct dream smut #kpop smut #nct fic #nct fanfic

[space-b33]

Imma vent real quick, because as much as I just want to ignore it, it honestly got to me and I’m kinda irritated that it made me feel an ounce of insecurity.

I realize I draw half naked people (clones mostly) A LOT, but I did this before I was ever making fanart because I just like drawing muscles and the body, it’s partly why I’m so bad at literally anything else (clothes, things, backgrounds) because for most of my “art life” all I ever did was study anatomy from books, references, and draw the body over and over. So whenever I see people accusing others who make this type of art, “thirst traps” (to which I’ll even admit, probably is in essence), as a way just to gain attention and followers, ugh it bugs me. But also, what’s wrong with even that? Why scrutinize it. I get if it’s not your thing, it doesn’t have to be everyone’s thing, but why make posts hating/indirectly calling out creators for something that isn’t hurting anyone. I get it if the content is wildly inappropriate, in both context and in how much it’s revealing, but I feel like my art (and others similar) PALES in what the internet offers in comparison.

Sometimes I take the title as “that artist who quenches the thirst of the thirsty” in pride, I really do like yes, that’s me, hello 👋 And won’t ever not enjoy sharing my anatomy practices that inevitably turn into fanart because it makes me really happy to see so many people enjoying it, but other days I get on myself to broaden my skill because I want to be more than that. And that’s when comments like the ones I’m talking about get to me, because it actually GETS to me, makes me feel bad like I’m doing something wrong. But I’m not, I know I’m not. Right? Ok I’m really just venting at this point haha But yeah, this has been on my mind for a while, and maybe I’m too much in my head about it, especially since my social media has gained an audience larger than I ever would have imagined. And just so everyone knows, I’ve never personally received messages like this, it’s just things I’ve occasionally seen floating around on feed.

#personal #might delete later if my anxiety catches up lol