#and its so nice to see a show that values it in the same way I do

[mytardisisparked]

The reason Psych is the Important Show of All Time is because it said "friendship is the MOST important thing." Like, yes, the romances were good but the show spends even more time emphasizing and developing the friendships and that's why it rocks. Lassiter and Juliet love and support each other unconditionally without even the slightest whiff of romance and it is SO. REFRESHING. When Juliet almost dies, Lassie sacrifices his favorite gun to save her without any hesitation. He's the one there to hold her while she cries. She's his confidant. She leaves everything she knows behind so he can chase his dream of being chief without reprocussion. That's a deep, wholesome kind of platonic love. They also never had Shawn be jealous of how close Jules and Lassie are - instead, in the final episode, we see Shawn thanking Lassie for loving and supporting Juliet. We simply don't do that jealousy crap here. Lassie and Jules are best friends and that's an excellent thing. And then there's Shawn and Gus. Those characters are narratively and physically inseperable. The show makes it VERY clear that, without the other, neither one is complete. They balance each other and exacerbate each other's hijinks at the same time. They're closer than close and everyone around them just accepts it. It's just the way those two dumb boys are and no one is going to try to get between that. And then, of course, SO many friendships develop over the course of the show. Lassie and Shawn form a begrudging friendship eventually. Juliet and Karen end up bonding more than I think either expected. Friendship is the beating heart of this series and it's presented in a way that is unique and fun and I just don't see a lot of other shows that do it like Psych did.

#mostly I appreciate the fact that Psych showed unconditional platonic love between a man and a woman without ever making it weird #I cannot express enough how important Jules and Lassie are to me #SO IMPORTANT #I value platonic relationships a LOT because romantic relationships are good but platonic relationships are the foundation of survival #and its so nice to see a show that values it in the same way I do #ANYWAY #WATCH PSYCH #Psych #shawn spencer #burton guster #juliet o'hara #carlton lassiter

[baby-jaguar]

CoD Wedding Headcannons

Some sweet love for our boys, hoping to cheer anyone up after MW3. While the photos do have fem/wedding dresses in them, I tried to make it as gender neutral as possible!

I hope everyone can enjoy!

Price

Getting married to Price warrants an old Hollywood glamour, something more intimate and small for the people you both hold close, so you can make memories of the long-awaited night while being able to relax in good nature of the celebration.

You both decided to find a nice speakeasy for both the ceremony and reception, as Price had surprised you and rented out the entire venue. The soft and warm glow of candles and old lights casted a romantic light on you, showing the etheral glow to you.

Price is a traditional man, and decided to save his first look to seeing you walk down the aisle. As your eyes lock onto his, he sniffles and the distinct tell of his moustance twitching is what keys you in on him being able to feel comfortable showing his emotions as he hones his ice blue eyes on you.

He did in fact, make quite the show for your first kiss, taking you in his arms and giving you a gentle but deep dip, showing off the romantic (almost steamy) touch of your lips as you lock in your unity.

Your first dance is a slow sway in circles, focused on whispering sweet nothings to each other in between the kisses you reach up to give him. Saving the absolute last dance for both of you, as the clock strikes into midnight and the day is now Sunday, Etta James' Sunday Kind of Love plays out softly as you sway together before heading up to your honeymoon suite.

Vows:

"My angel, you have been everything I believed I never deserved. You have shown me what I have always been missing, the love that I never knew of. I know I will never be able to amount to the thankfulness of you sticking by me through and through, I will never stop thanking the heavens of the gold and glory that you are, as you run through my veins to find your home in my heart.

Just as I fought by your side on the field, I promise to fight for our love, to shield it from any harm that may come its way. Through the scars and wounds we bear, both seen and unseen, I vow to cherish every part of you. Your strength, your vulnerability, your laughter, and your tears - they are all precious to me. Our love is a force that any creature made by god would fear, as I know we are forever to be unstoppable together, through every small and great task.

Together, we will conquer any obstacle that stands in our way. I promise to never forget the sacrifices made; honoring our fallen, for they have paved and protected the way for our love. They watch over us, guiding us, and reminding us to cherish every moment we have. I love you, with every last being of myself, and even past my last breath. Forever and always, angel."

Gaz

Gaz has a flair for the dramatics and also loves a fairytale and nature aesthetic. He requested a fairytale wedding, and it was an extravagant night for the two of you. Gaz values some traditions but was ready to blow those to the wind for his excitement to celebrate your love. You did a first look, and he was rendered speechless as he took in your form, tears already pooling and beginning to stream down his face.

Gaz took the time with you to learn a ballroom dance for your first song, impressing your guests and even yourselves with how beautiful and magical the two of you are. Cutting the cake was a very sweet moment for the two of you, as you both happened to have the same thought and booped each other on the nose with icing at the same moment.

Your wedding was held in a mountaintop venue, the night sky showing all the stars that shined brightly and reflected on a lake, approving of your love as if the faries make an appearance for your royal court of a wedding. As you danced the night away, Kyle was sure to keep a mix of whispering the most heart warming sweet nothings, and making sure to catch your reaction by the photographers when he murmured sinfully sweet thoughts in your ear.

Vows:

"Through the chaos and uncertainty, you became my anchor, guiding me with your strength and infectious spirit. Together, we have faced the darkest of days, and it is in those moments that our love has grown stronger. When I look into your eyes, I see a reflection of my hopes, dreams, and desires.

Your love has breathed life into my soul, and I vow to nourish that love with tenderness and compassion. I promise to be your confidant, your partner, and your best friend, as your happiness is everything that can and will continue to let my heartbeat to our special song. I promise to be the keeper of your dreams, the one who will protect and nourish you from any challenges we face, always together.

You are my life; I will walk beside you, hand in hand, supporting you in every step. You are the greatest reward life has ever, granted me. With every beat of my heart, I will love you fiercely, unconditionally, and without reservation, for you are the missing piece that completes me."

Soap

Johnny was all for having a fun and colorful wedding, and a maximalist and retro decor was decided on. Because for a MacTavish? Go big or go home baby.

He never stopped smiling the day of your wedding, his astonishment at the environment and scene of your unity never leaving his face. You decided to read your vows privately to each other, holding hands and having your backs to each other while waiting to have your first look down the aisle. Under disco balls, your first dance felt like something out of a movie.

Johnny was one to always show off, and he was sure to spin and dip you around, his strength holding you as he even lifted you and twirled you around. Now as a real MacTavish, you both knew how to throw a party and made sure that your open bar helped your guests get as wild as you two are.

If you did decide to wear a garter, or simply put one on for the tradition, Johnny made a damn great show of taking it off; crawling underneath your dress/between your legs and made you squeak in embarrassment as his stuble tickled your thigh.

Vows:

"Today, I stand before you, to pledge my undying love. You, my little sparrow, have held my attention, obsession, and heart from the moment our eyes met. I promise to always have your back, whether we're dodging bullets or just trying to figure out what to have for dinner. With you, life is an adventure, and I can't wait to tackle it together.

I promise to be your partner in crime for life, always up for exploring new horizons and creating memories we’ll never live down, But as long as we're together, every moment will be an adventure worth cherishing.

You bring laughter and lightness to my life, even in the darkest of times. Your smile is like a ray of sunshine breaking through the storm clouds. Life is too short to not enjoy the simple pleasures, and with you by my side, every moment is a treasure.

I vow to keep the flames of passion alive, As Our love is a fire that burns bright, even amidst the chaos. I promise to keep the spark alive, to always pursue you with the same determination and intensity that challenges the forces of this earth."

Ghost

Simon was enthusiastic to have a wedding that featured a dark and mystical aesthetic. He wanted something small and private, requesting that it be some of your closest friends and family to spend the special night together.

With a romantic and dark church, it was a powerful and mystical wedding that incorporates both of your energies. You both decided not to have groomsmen/bridesmaids and instead placed altars of your fallen teammates and loved ones under the arch with you two, feeling their love in your unity.

Simon waited for his first look down the aisle but began crying with a wavering voice during your vows. During the first dance, he lifted you to stand atop of his feet, holding you as he moved the both of you in a surprising fashion of a waltz, elegantly for the seasoned stealth veteran.

His eyes seemed to swim with tears, iris' almost as black as his pupils in the dark lit church and ballroom. His eyes were rarely straying from you, far to enamored with keeping every memory to be held in his soul- even in the next life.

Vows:

"From the darkness where death once consumed us, to the light that now shines through our love, I stand here today, my heart laid bare, to vow my eternal devotion to you. In the face of danger, amidst the chaos and uncertainty, our love has blossomed like a fragile flower, defying all odds. Today, I stand here, a silent guardian, to pledge my undying love and devotion to you. In our promise, my heart will always yearn for your touch, laughter, and the warmth of your presence.

Through the pain and loss we have endured, I promise to cherish every memory we share. Your laughter, your touch, your soul - they are etched into the very fabric of my existence. I will hold you as tenderly as the spirits did when creating you, as you are a gift that I will forever cherish. In this broken world, I vow to mend any pieces of your heart, to hold you close when the weight of the past becomes too heavy to bear.

I will be your strength when you feel weak, your rock when you need stability. With you, I have found a love that mends the scars of the past."

Graves

Phillip desired a venue within the wilderness and countryside, deciding that a farm with a Barn reception was perfect. His vows were as strong as his commands, his voice was deep and rich with honey, and maybe a few tears, as he spoke his heart out to you and let the crowd hear just how much you have changed him into a loving man.

You partook in “burying the bourbon,” planting a favorite bottle in the ground of your wedding venue, one month prior. Once dug out, you intertwined arms and took shots all night, the heat of the drink and your love enveloping you both. two-stepping through the night on the dance floor, he twirled you expertly and dipped you low to the ground before always leaving a kiss on your lips.

It was during the ceremony that he surprised you, having ordered a mechanical bull for you and the guests to ride. Taking you and himself on the first ride, you laughed so hard you cried at how silly, but fun it was.

Taking you to the airport after the wedding, he had a classic American car with a "Just Married" sign on the back. And of course, the Shadows were your escort to the airport.

Vows:

"My sweetheart, from the moment our stubborn hearts crossed paths, I sensed a connection deeper than what ties us to this life. I will be a guardian of our love, ensuring that it shines brightly in every step I take, and every breath I draw, as you are the whisper that breathes into my greatest devotion.

In the depths of my soul, and the depths of you, I promise to carry our love of shared laughter, whispered promises, and the unspoken bond that will forever be the piece that grounds me in this realm. I vow to live a life worthy of the love you bless me with, to carry forward the lessons you teach me, and to honor the sacrifices we have made to make it this far, together.

Your courage, compassion, and unwavering loyalty will forever inspire me, my angel, whom I vow to cherish and love and you beat your wings to the pulse of my heart.

As I walk this Earth with you by my side, I know that we will be forever united no matter the realm we are in. As our love knows no boundaries, and as we exchange these vows, we will be together, holding each other in a timeless embrace. To the moon and farther, you are my saving grace. ”

Alejandro

Alejandro was excited to celebrate your commitment and love to each other, already planning a massive celebration between each other's families, friends, and Los Vaqueros, who helped set up your beautiful wedding. In true Vaquero fashion, the Wedding Lasso Ceremony was incorporated.

By a thick cord of white rope, the priest tied it around you two in an infinity shape and blessed your unity to eternity. As he read his vows to you, Alejandro tried very hard to not cry but in the last paragraph (and from hearing his own mother’s soft sniffles in the crowd) he had a quiet sob while his eyes found yours, reciting the lines from his heart.

As the ceremony concluded, you and Alejandro rode your horses down the streets of the town, waving and smiling at all who had come out to shout and cheer for your parade of love in La Callejoneada, many throwing rice and flower petals towards you two in a token of celebration. Your wedding was held in an orchard of Mango trees, the meaning of affection and adoration not.

Vows:

"Mi Amor, as we stand together, I vow to be the person you deserve, to love you unconditionally, and to be a witness to your growth and transformation. Our love is a flame that burns brightly, illuminating the path before us, and I am grateful to walk it by your side.

In your eyes, I find the force that drives me to be what you deserve, as you are the most sacred thing to ever cross the path of my heart. Eres mi existencia, la luz que hace que mi sangre lata en mi corazón como siempre ha sido el tuyo. (You are my existence, the light that makes my blood beat into my heart as it has always been yours.)

Mi Vida, in you, I have found a sanctuary where I can be myself, unburdened by the weight of the world. I vow to be your shelter and support, and together, we will create a haven of love and understanding, where we can always find solace and rejuvenation.

Desde este día en adelante, caminaremos juntos por el sendero de la vida, enfrentando los desafíos con valentía y compartiendo las risas y los sueños. Mi amor por ti trasciende las palabras y se manifiesta en cada gesto, en cada mirada, y en cada latido de mi corazón."

(From this day forward, we will walk the path of life together, facing challenges with courage and sharing laughter and dreams. My love for you transcends words and is manifested in every gesture, in every look, and in every beat of my heart.)

Rudy

Rodolfo was ready for a celebration but wanted to keep it intimate to your closest family and friends, and of course, Los Vaqueros as well. You both chose a beautiful wedding venue next to the beach, having the white decorations tied into the beautiful white sand and blue ocean water.

Exchanging Las Arras matrimoniales proved to be heartwarming as the priest and los padrinos y madrinas made sure you felt the love as you became a Parra, a member of their family. You were surprised as Rudy managed to only have his eyes water during his vows but his voice wavered, and he had to clear his throat multiple times while reading them aloud.

That didn’t stop his voice from showing his conviction and devotion; entering the reception, Rudy placed you on a lone chair in the middle of the dance floor and lined up with his men and a mariachi band. Under the sunset, he serenaded you. His voice rang out richly and perfectly, causing tears to stream down your face as your hand laid over your heart to try and keep it still.

Vows:

“Mi Cielo, your presence in my life has been like a symphony, each note perfectly harmonizing with the next. Together, we have created a melody that resonates deep within me. You have become my muse, my inspiration, and the beat of my soul.

Mi Corazón, prometo nutrir nuestro amor como una flor delicada, cuidándolo con cuidado y devoción. Así como un compositor cultiva su obra maestra, yo me haré cargo de nuestro amor, colmándolo de cariño, comprensión y respeto. Nuestro amor florecerá, irradiando su belleza al mundo. (My Heart, I promise to nourish our love like a delicate flower, tending to it with care and devotion. Just as a composer cultivates his masterpiece, I will take charge of our love, showering it with affection, understanding and respect. Our love will blossom, radiating its beauty to the world.)

Our love is a masterpiece, and I promise to protect it with all my being. As we embark on this journey together, I vow to always walk beside you, hand in hand, navigating the twists and turns that life may bring. Our love will be the melody that carries us through, and with you by my side, I am confident that we can conquer anything. En este día y todos los días venideros, me comprometo a amarte con cada fibra de mi ser. (On this day and every day to come, I commit to loving you with every fiber of my being.)

Our love is a melody that sings of devotion and commitment, and I am honored to be the one who shares this beautiful symphony with you.”

König

While planning your wedding, König asked for a deal between you two for the ceremony. If you granted him a private elopement, he would deliver the wedding of your dreams. Deliver he did, as he picked a literal castle for your venue. An enchanting and historic architecture with plants adding to the mystical feel, he made you feel as decadent as two rulers who are together forever more and uniting two kingdoms.

He chose to speak his vows privately to you, with a camera pointed towards you to watch as you both had tears running down your faces at the words spoken softer than any feeling your heart has ever felt before. However, he knew that a party was needed to celebrate your love, so the reception was held in a ballroom that overlooked the forest.

As a man who values his heritage, you and König had a private ‘Brautraub’ where you hid within the castle, waiting for him to figuratively seek and kidnap you as a symbol of starting a new portion of your life with him as he (literally) swept you off your feet and into his arms.

Vows:

"Mein Schätz, our love is vital as the bond between two rulers has created a kingdom of love and unity that reigns within our souls. You are the crown of my life, the sun that illuminates my kingdom. With you, I have experienced the true meaning of love and devotion as you have captured my heart, forever I will honor and protect you, as you are my guiding star that will lead me to my heaven.

Mein Liebling, ich gelobe, unsere Liebe wie ein kostbares Juwel zu hegen und sie mit Hingabe und Aufmerksamkeit zu pflegen. Ich gelobe, unsere Liebe immer zu nähren und sie stärker zu machen als einen funkelnden Diamanten, denn niemand wird jemals meine Hingabe an Dich schmälern. (My darling, I vow to cherish our love like a precious jewel and to nurture it with devotion and attention. I vow to always nourish our love and make it stronger than a sparkling diamond, for no one will ever diminish my devotion to you.)

Meine Sonne und Sterne, I vow to cherish and nurture our bond with tenderness and care. Like a king protects his kingdom, I will guard our love fiercely, shielding it from harm. Our love will stand as a beacon of hope, one that is a testament of royalty, radiating its warmth and beauty to all who witness its majestic journey. Ich liebe dich für immer.”

(Meine Sonne und Sterne = My Sun and my Stars. Ich liebe dich für immer = I love you, forever.)

#task force 141 #cod mw2 #call of duty #captain john price #call of duty modern warfare #john price #john price x reader #los vaqueros #phillip graves #tf141 #john soap mctavish x reader #johnny soap mctavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish #soap cod #kyle garrick #gaz cod #kyle gaz garrick #simon riley ghost #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost cod #commander graves #alejandro vargas #rodolfo parra #rudy parra #los vaqueros x reader #konig x reader #konig mw2 #konig call of duty #modern warfare 3 #modern warfare 2

[the-saltiest-saltine]

Reservations and Repose

(Yan!Chrollo x Fem Reader)

@sukunasfavoritehole hopefully this is enough to tide you over until my ao3 finally gets an update hehe

Word count: ~7.3k

------

You’re naïve enough to believe Chrollo’s asleep. He loves that about you.

Warnings: NOT SFW, non -con thigh fucking, somnophilia, drugging, imagined not sfw scenarios etc

a/n: SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG IT WAS 3/4 FINISHED THEN I FORGOT ABOUT IT my sincerest apologies.

Also this is my first time writing smut so please go easy on me 😥

Chrollo is very disappointed in you.

You let him kiss your cheek this morning following a deep sleep. You didn’t reciprocate, though he continues to see your progress and knows that an ever-hopeful yet can be added to the end of that statement. To some extent, the allowance of such an act could be chalked up to his acceptance of you, flaws and all, willing to appreciate the neutrality of it as opposed to ardent rejection. In a matter of weeks, you’ll be returning the gesture. And in a matter of months, you’ll be doing it gladly. Warmth, or perhaps weariness, has slowly but surely seeped its way into your actions recently, your shaky hands finding a place in his, fingers interlaced.

Is that to say he was under the impression that you’d completely given yourself to him? Absolutely not. There’s fear in your smiles, as much as they may have metamorphosed from obviously and mockingly forced to meek and endearing. Chrollo has shown you all that you know he can do. This has been enough to keep you relatively restrained over the months. If he showed you all that he knows he can do, you’d most likely curl up into a ball and sob until you dried out. That’s not necessary, though. It’ll never be.

Like many things, it wasn’t linear. It was a path that went upwards and downwards and forwards and backwards and in cycles, cycles that would always leave you curled up, sobbing in his arms, grasping onto him for whatever comfort it would give. But progress is progress, right?

Ignorantly, he began to believe the crumbs of affection, of acceptance, of acquiescence. Stupidly, he thought you were making progress. It’s been a significant amount of time since he was last this naïve. If he wasn’t so disgruntled by your transgression, he’d most likely bask in the nostalgic feeling. But he can’t, for the time being, because you’re trying to do something very rash.

As unfortunate as it is, you’re trying to leave him.

It’s audacious, having thought that the monumental power difference between you two had been thoroughly demonstrated on multiple occasions, a well established and silently acknowledged fact of your travels with him.

It’s irritating, although regarded with the same irritation as one would have with a pet goldfish trying to jump out of its tank. You silly thing, why do you want to abandon the place in which you are safe?

It doesn’t particularly make sense, though. He’s checked his cards - nothing suspicious has been bought in his name. No travel tickets or prepaid car hire. He’s even checked the jewellery collection - maybe you’d snatched up a nice necklace or bracelet or pair of diamond earrings to pawn off. But again, nothing. No suspicious bags have been packed. No loose tiles or floorboards or ceiling panels to hide supplies in. Your clothes are all neatly folded and hung in your wardrobe. 

You’ve got something up your sleeve- something desperate and jittery and not fully thought out. Something that relies on luck and prayers far more than precision and blow-by-blow planning. He never particularly took you for a daredevil, but to see you get pushed to such a limit, to be forced against your own timid nature, is beyond satisfying. If he could pluck it out of you and analyse it under a microscope, he’d be elated. Or perhaps even, he supposes to himself, he’d be so fulfilled that he might abandon the current pathway of his life, aimless and bloody and cyclical, finally so consumed with his obsession over you that nothing else is valued in the slightest. 

He can’t say he didn’t expect an ulterior motive for your apparent benevolence, at least initially, but for it to be kept up for this long? The stares felt almost too natural. The gradual lessening of your flinches when he placed a hand on your shoulder, the way your gaze would be drawn to him rather than away, even if only to flick away immediately - the subtleties were downright impressive. To be able to track everything simultaneously, to be able to remember to exhibit so many behaviours at once…Perhaps he should be taking acting lessons from you.

Chrollo had watched you, humming a pop tune this morning, cheekily shaking your hips from side to side as you fried some eggs, over easy, the notes sometimes interrupted with a sharp inhale between your teeth when the oil spat just a bit too high and would burn you ever-so-slightly. A domestic sight.

You’d let him give you another kiss on the cheek before he shrugged his coat on, giving you one last lingering glance before he’d walked out the door and into the hallway of the apartment, locking it with warm Nen made of comfort rather than capture. He gave you another cheek kiss (despite his ever-growing urge to dip lower) when he got home to the smell of spices and vegetables and the bubbling sound of a low simmer. You don’t fight them anymore, and barely even recoil now, a result of steady but slight crossing of boundaries - his record was eleven times in one day (at least, his record for when you were conscious) when he was feeling particularly affectionate, although you’d definitely soured up by the end.

The…fantasies he’d had of domesticity…they were just that, weren’t they? Fantasies, mere ideas that were appealing enough to fully flesh out in his mind. Whatever actions you’ve taken, whether it be pecks to the cheek or folding his shirts, staining them with the scent of you, they’ve all been a means to an end. That certainly wasn’t part of the fantasy. 

You’ve been buttering him up like the thick slices of white bread next to his bowl. What a betrayal.

Tonight’s stew is spicy and chunky, served courteously by you. His palate is experienced from an adulthood of travel, wealth, and nights spent with gullible women who couldn’t tell the difference between a Prince Charming and a swindler. Truly, there is little he hasn’t at least tried. Including this.

So, if there’s no other signs of you wanting to leave the comfort of the apartment and the familiarity of his presence, then what could’ve possibly cued him into your motives?

It’s something tenuous, something that could’ve gone unnoticed to anyone else. It’s something subtle, buried under layers of rosemary and thyme and paprika. But diphenhydramine is such an acquired taste. And it’s one that’s made the past few weeks and months crumble to dust.

Oh, you sweet thing.

Acting as oblivious as ever, he spoons chunks of zucchini and carrot onto the bread, taking large bites, chewing and swallowing with purpose, the taste of the sedative lingering. He considers smacking his lips for good measure, to play around with you a bit, but eventually decides against it. That’ll come later.

You sit across from him, silence between you two. Normally, he’d fill it with tales from his busy day - but you’ve been so good lately, that he’s begun to refrain from doing that. Nowadays, he asks you what you’ve been up to, every painstaking detail from your dull days without him. But that’s only if you’ve been good, or at least if he’s under the impression that you’ve been good. As it turns out, you haven’t been good, you aren’t being compliant, and now he simply waits.

You stare into your bowl of stew, but he can tell you’re watching him in your periphery. It’s so very fascinating, the way you absorb each mouthful he takes, washed down with frequent sips of water (there’s no other substances in that, obviously). He takes another swill of the liquid, tilting his head slightly back, and in the corner of his eye, he can see the way you observe his Adam's apple bobbing with each gulp. Does it appease you, the sight? Does it intrigue you? Does it make you, even for a moment, reconsider what you’re about to do?

Chrollo pauses for a moment, before placing the half-empty glass back onto its coaster. He knows the smirk that comes onto his face is nothing short of wicked, but he truly can’t help himself. 

“Are you not hungry, my love? You’ve barely touched your food.”

Barely is an understatement. You haven’t touched it at all, in fact. Stupid, really. He knows that you know that he’s observant - but that information is irrelevant in this situation, considering it doesn’t take an keen eye to figure out your pattern of stirring your spoon around, picking up some carrot - even blowing on it for good measure - and nodding along with what few words he spoke initially, before giving an mhm! of agreement and letting it drop back into the bowl. You spend extensive amounts of time apparently fishing for just the right piece of zucchini, sorting through copious amounts of lentils (and seemingly taking the time to individually count them all), dragging chunks up the side of your bowl only to push them back down into the fray of assorted vegetables.

There’s almost a sort of jump in response to the words, ringing clear and well projected. But it’s contained above the shoulders - your head snaps to look at him, your eyes widening momentarily, staring into his own, trapped.

He can feel the shaky breath you take to steady yourself from over here, air stagnant and mouth dry.

“No,” you reply, “not particularly.”

He cocks an eyebrow at that, mouthing an oh before returning to his meal. It doesn’t matter whether you take the bait or not, his suspicions have long since been confirmed. Confirmed, in the sternest sense of the word, syllables enunciated with force, the knowledge of your true intentions well recognised. Whether that displays on his face or within his interactions with you is inconsequential to the known ending of your silly stunt.

The sound of you chewing is enough to bring his attention back out of the bowl. That’s not fake.

So you’re eating it too? It’s certainly a bold move, but one he wouldn’t dare put past you anymore. You were always a clever one, one to be placed a mere few tiers below his own intellect.

He hasn’t caught you swapping the bowl out for a fresh one. Maybe you’ve mastered the art so quickly that even he can’t notice?

No, not likely. Not in just a few months. That’d be impossible.

Your bites of pumpkin are preceded with the slightest hesitation, a quick breath to presumably psych yourself up to the self-sabotage. He hates to see you so scared when you’re properly sharing a meal with him like this, deciding to return to normalcy as a reward for your cooperation.

“Tell me, darling, what did you get up to today?”

Your eyes flick to his, momentarily ensnared in the grey, before looking up at the ceiling to aid in the process of giving a verbal description of what you read, how you cleaned, how you entertained yourself with rearranging your meagre book collection (not his, that would be asking for trouble). The response is practically identical to every other time he’s asked the question, plain and unindulgent. It’s boring, he thinks, even with the unacknowledged omission of the hours you spend staring at the walls and pacing around the living area. He’s tempted to pry into how you decided on tonight’s dish, but decides against it. Not for lenience or mercy, but rather amusement. To give away what he knows now would simply be a waste of a situation you’ll never attempt to put yourself in again.

If you knew what Chrollo knew, would you still bother to indulge him?

You stare at him for a moment, allowing him to draw things out, before nodding at the I see he gives in response. He gives a forward nod to your bowl, giving you gracious permission to eat again after starving you for the length of your interrogation, merciful as ever. Your fear is better contained behind a split second’s confusion before you register the nonverbal instruction, picking up your spoon once more and eating with more confidence this time, taking exaggerated bites of zucchini that barely make it past your teeth, chewed excessively into grey paste before being swallowed. Maybe you reason that if you chew enough, you can break the drug down into something that won’t knock you out. A cute thought.

The spices stain your lips an enticing red, the chilli making them plump up so deliciously. If he kissed them, would they burn him? Would the capsaicin leave his lips tingling, a reminder of your soft touch?

He likes to think he’ll know the answer soon.

Chrollo feigns sleepiness, furrowing his brows in mock confusion as he tells you that he can’t quite keep his eyes open - perhaps he overdid it at work today. 

Yes, work, as he loves to call it, like there’s the possibility of him spending his time away from you at a desk, punching in numbers on a computer, monotonous and repetitive and damn, couldn’t things just switch up for a day? Work, as in a beer-bellied husband whose idea of experimental fashion is changing which tie he wears with the same white button-up and black dress pants each day. Work, as in an assembly line employee who wakes up at three o’clock to be at the factory by four, ready and willing to make whatever sacrifices necessary to support his loved ones. Work, as in something at least vaguely respectable.

Work, as in literally anything other than stealing and slaughtering and scourging.

Chrollo relishes in the way your shoulders relax a little. It’s almost too adorable. Chrollo also relishes in the way they tense up again when he adds how it’s suspicious really. I don’t believe I’ve ever felt a tiredness such as this.

There’s an underlying anxiety in your pretty, pluckable, ever-so-slightly bloodshot eyes. Where others would be concerned for your health, he finds endearment, you precious thing. After admiring them silently for a moment, he announces that he’ll be off to bed now, darling. Remember to be there for me when I wake.

He leaves you alone in the kitchen to stew in your unease.

____________

Now he’s lying in bed, on the side closest to the door, limp as anything. It doesn’t matter whether his facade convinces you or not, he’ll have you in his arms by morning. The blinds aren’t fully down, leaving a pleasant blue hue that gives him a good visual of most of the room. Your side of the bed is still firmly tucked in from when he made it this morning, after running his hands up and down your arms until you’d given a great shudder and shoved him away - a pitiful attempt that he’d impishly gone along with. 

Anticipation tickles his nose and prods at his heart. Childishly, he wants you to get over with it already, to sprint in, swinging a knife wildly, or cue him to start the chase with a slam of the front door so violent that the hinges threaten to crack. It’s unfortunate how your faux compliance conditioned him to be unable to accept a halt, or even slowing, of progress.

Ah, some solace - he can hear your footsteps come up to the door, attempting, albeit poorly, to be quiet. Or maybe they are quiet, to the average man, but someone well-versed in the art of stealth can practically see the way you tiptoe closer. The faint sounds paint a detailed visualisation of your movements - the balls of your feet lifting from the ground, the flexing of your toes, the dorsiflexion at your ankles, the soft thud of your heels hitting the ground.

The bedroom door creaks open, a thin streak of light hitting his eyelids, making him see an ever-so-slight orange behind them. He might be able to visualise your walk accurately, but the same cannot be said for your face. Are you fearful, lips downturned and eyes wide? Are you determined yet cautious, eyes narrowed and lips pressed into a thin line? Are you smug? Condescending? Grinning from ear-to-ear, excited to finally have what you believe to be freedom?

You’re not, he discerns.

Instead, you huff a sigh, a sweet note that makes his heart jump, a small flutter that could only be instigated by you. It’s a sigh of relief. The door is shut. He expects another door to be slammed, too - the front door, hinges quaking as you sprint to the stairs as far as you can, too scared to wait for the elevator (and for your sake, he hopes you’ve brought a pair of running shoes - you’re on the 35th floor, after all). But that doesn’t happen.

Instead, he can hear the clanking of bowls and dishes, the smooth schwip as you push breadcrumbs off the chopping board into the bin with the back of the serrated-edge knife, and how you place said knife into the block without taking another one out.

So you’ve decided against stabbing him tonight? How agreeable.

In fact there seems to be no malice in the way you’re stacking the bowls, no scraps of extra force in how you shut the fridge. Whilst the sounds of your cleanup are nothing short of a ruckus to his alert ears, there’s an intentional tenderness he can hear. A conscious effort to be as quiet as possible with somebody sleeping peacefully in the next room.

It’s a gesture he’ll interpret in the best way he can. Even if he knows he’s deluding himself that you want to be quiet for his own peace rather than so you can escape, he’ll be sure to bring up the former as reasoning for your actions over the next few days, regardless of how you’ll spit venom at him, hissing that he couldn’t be more wrong.

Next is a movement he didn’t expect in the slightest.

You come back to the bedroom, with a pile of fabric in your hands - clothes, maybe? He thought you’d be off and away as soon as possible, or you wouldn’t get close to him again at the very least, standing patiently by the door until whatever you’re waiting for had occurred. 

The quiet-ish footsteps make their way past him this time, and straight into the ensuite.

There’s the soft sound of clothes falling, and then the tap is turned on.

You’re…showering before you leave?

You really are a good teacher of the quirks of humanity. Logical as ever, he’d most certainly take no time for hygiene practices if it reduced his chances of being able to go on a small, liberating adventure. But perhaps that’s part of the plan? Do you not want to have a speck of dirt on you so you don’t smell bad? Will you hide out at a fancy gala, and have to be as fresh as possible? Are you trying to wash off Nen, perhaps? 

No, that would never work, and he’s certain you know this too. Still, the idea of a little hopeless fire in you, taking a precaution you know is futile, makes his lips twitch.

So many questions, few of them answerable at present. His mind is stimulated so wondrously, for once not finding boredom in the predictability of human behaviour. He’s truly chosen well. 

And then there’s something else, rising above the sound of the rushing water, above the drain gurgling it down, greedily gulping it away.

You’re humming.

It’s relatively random, most likely improvised, and slightly off-tune, but endearing all the same. He can taste the notes, sweet and soothing, running down his throat smoothly and pooling warmth in his belly. 

You heave a sigh, and the tune changes. And then he recognises it.

It’s something he heard as a boy, back in Meteor City. He’d hear it at night, walking back to whatever semblance of a refuge he had with Franklin and Shalnark, past the hamlets of the younger children. Letting himself get lost in it, he can feel himself crawling to shelter on scraped knees, walking on calloused heels, eating stale bread, all accompanied by the faint smell of garbage, a smell that years of exposure had waned to a neutral accompaniment of the setting, rather than an inconvenience or hazard.

Despite the unhygienic nature of it all, it’s sweet. It’s these memories - memories of grime and rot and infection - that are the most pure. The most uncorrupted. They’re full of innocence and hope - just like you.

These qualities make you think you’ll leave him.

Upon remembering this, he’s tempted to barge in and ruin your peace, eager to hear your inevitable yelp and nervous laugh as he quizzes you about tonight’s events. But he doesn’t. Your lullaby is too enjoyable, the tune far too agreeable to stomp out yet. Resisting sin by committing another, he decides he doesn’t want to kill this mockingbird, if only to selfishly continue to hear it sing.

Few moments have come like this since you came to be with him. They’re all short-lived in comparison to the cold life he’s had, a firecracker popping on his tongue, fleetingly filling his mouth with syrupy sweetness before quickly dying off, barely an aftertaste to be savoured. He’s scratched them all down in an old leather journal with a quill and ink, lest he forgets what it feels like, or how to get that feeling again, but thankfully they’re scratched even deeper into his psyche. 

You’d been agreeable enough for a reward of a dinner somewhere several stories up, city lights shining behind you, framing your hair beautifully. You were reluctant at first, turning your nose up at him and the priceless food in front of you, opting for the bottle of red wine instead. It wasn’t supposed to be gulped down with such vulgarity like that, but that was part of your charm and by your second glass you were giggling and halfway through your third you looked at him right in the eye, cheeks tinged pink, and you smiled a smile that you’d forget by morning but he wouldn’t…

He’d returned to the villa after a long day to find the fans blasting, and you slumped over on the couch as credits rolled on the screen in front of you. He’d flicked the TV off, not before noting the rom-com’s name, and regarded you, with your deep, even breaths and singlet strap falling down. He picked you up and carried you to bed, laying you down on the thin blankets, fixing your strap despite the small voice that called to him to take off the thing entirely. Your head rested on the pillow, your face not scowling for once, and you’d huffed the sweetest of sighs…

That’s the kind of moment this is.

There’s no thought of what he’ll be doing with the troupe tomorrow, or in a week, or what move to make next depending on what you decide to do. Every nook and cranny of his mind, every convolution of his brain is filled with the thought of you. Tonight, it’s warm and viscous, slowing time and cutting both of you off from the rest of the world; the rest of its filth.

In this moment, he can see himself in the shower with you. He’s across from you, lathering body wash onto his shoulders, letting the foam run down his back. All the while, he keeps his gaze on you, watching how your hands run over your body, soap running along your sternum, between your breasts, along the curve of your hips, your ass, all whilst you hum that tune… shit, he can’t let himself get hard now. He manages to drag himself out of the daydream, barely, just managing to claw himself to the surface of reality.

Caps are popped open and the lathering of soaps can be heard over the course of your performance, with a finale of the tap being turned off. There’s a fumbling of fabrics before you come out, followed by yet another move he doesn’t expect.

You walk up to the bed, peel the sheets back, and lie down beside him. You then roll onto your side, facing him. After a few moments, you prop yourself up onto your elbow.

A moment of nothing. You’re frozen, as is he. Calm before the storm, he prepares himself to catch your wrist and hear you shriek.

You lean over.

And then there’s a featherlight sensation on his forehead, right in the middle of his tattoo. 

Had it been a split second later, he would’ve opened his eyes and turned to face you with a smirk as you screamed. But it’s not a split second later, it’s now, and now you’re kissing him. There’s no real benefit for doing such a thing that he can identify right now - perhaps you know he’s awake, and would like to make amends? Surely you know that that wouldn’t be enough to satisfy him.

The contact sends an electric zap to every corner of his body, although he manages to not make himself jolt. Months of stifled desire bubble up from his insides, desire that’s spent so long smothered by rationale of better outcomes and forcing himself to think of his bloodied obstacles and late nights alone in the shower. As often as his lips find their way to your forehead, unfortunately the reverse doesn’t occur even half as much.

You pull away, like you’re hesitant about what you’ve done, like you’re waiting for him to snap his eyes open and sit up with inhuman speed, ready to pin you down or tie you up or even slap you for tonight’s inconveniences. But that doesn’t make sense, because hesitation is supposed to occur before such an intrepid act, not afterward.

After receiving apparent confirmation that you’re not about to be attacked, he can sense your head slowly but surely coming to rest on your pillow. You shouldn’t strain your neck like that, someone like you could get hurt over time.

The back of his shirt is peeled up, slowly, delicately, and he has to focus to keep his breathing even.

There you lie, staring at the twelve-legged spider etched into his skin, his number a pale contrast to the black ink, practically jumping out at you.

0.

It’s your reminder, he supposes, of what he is. Theoretically and legally nonexistent, practically traceless. Zero evidence. Zero remorse. Zero morality.

Zero.

Then-

One, two, three.

Your lips mark a trail up his spine, at the bottom of the abdomen, right in the middle of the zero, on its head. Don’t shudder.

Once your deed is done, you pull back. There you lie, staring at the twelve-legged spider etched into his skin, so silent that you’re barely breathing.

The fabric of his nightshirt is guided back down. You roll over and proceed to go limp, succumbing to the drugs intended for him.

What was that?

You’re not touching him anymore. He can sense the gap between your bodies, one that he would close every night, pulling you close. 

Was it a relief? To go to sleep without him touching you?

You’d always stirred up such a fuss about his arms being around you as you slept. 

It had always been a cause for seething rage on your part, later argument, later whining, and more recently huffing. Even last night, the stiffness before you fell asleep was a cause of his own discomfort. But you didn’t have to deal with that tonight, and now you’ve fallen asleep in record time. He can’t say it was just from the pills.

Did you change your mind on leaving after you felt their effects? It doesn’t seem likely that you’d ditch all that to sleep. Rather, that you wanted to sleep on your own terms.

He’d spent so much time concerned with stopping a potential escape, that he didn’t stop to consider that maybe, just maybe, that was never the goal to begin with.

And now Chrollo rolls over to face you, gently tugging on your shoulder to pull you onto your back.

You’re serene as ever, a sight to behold. 

He brushes the back of his knuckles along your hair, feeling its texture, so light that his calloused hands - hands that have seen many a bruise and burn and slice and hangnail caught and ripped on the job - almost can’t feel it. Your exhales come out more as huffs and sighs now compared to gentle breathing, and he allows a chuckle (one that he finds incredibly endearing, as much as you’ve let your disagreement to that sentiment be known, preferring to describe it with wounding words such as “condescending” and “grating”) to slip past his lips. 

It reminds him of you when you’re awake, when you used to try so hard to be difficult for him, when you used to scream and scratch as he’d spoon you, grip ironclad, until all you could do was huff and puff and plead with him (and as much as he enjoyed your attempts to compromise, this was something he simply could not relinquish) and eventually, your cursing would die down, your muscles would go limp, and you’d fall asleep. 

Sometimes the sun would be up by the time you relented, and your breaths would be the heaviest then. It was amusing, how quickly you’d switch. One second, you were cussing him and his troupe out, the next, you were a paragon of tranquillity, the visage of an angel before him. He’d pray you love him.

He wants to grab your jaw, hold it firm, and kiss your lips as hard as he can. He wants to tilt his head and take and take and take. He wants to keep taking even if your breathing lightens. He wants to keep taking even if your eyelids flutter open, hazy doe-eyes looking at him with dozy confusion.

Well, he’d never deny his own indulgence.

Leaning in, he presses a kiss to your forehead, just as you did to him.

The touch is as gentle as he can make it, as gentle as he can permit himself to be. There’s a split second of what he could almost call fear, an image of accidentally squeezing you too hard and hearing your bones snap flashing in his mind.

He rubs his thumb over where his lips previously were, feeling an unanticipated wetness left behind.

It’s then that Chrollo realises his mouth is full of his own saliva - whether that was because he was so entranced by your actions that nothing else mattered, body as limp as he could allow, or because, like some sort of filthy animal, he couldn’t help but drool at the contact from you, starved for it like a hyena, he doesn’t know. He swallows. That’s better.

And now for the main event.

He dips down to your lips, and lightly presses his own against them. The feeling is so heavenly, he wonders if you really are an angel. If you were one, would you bless him? Would you destroy him?

If you were to know what he’s doing, would you hate him more?

He pulls away. 

The journey to get here was sizable. Memories of tonight flash by; your cooking, your conversation, your shower. Your humming.

Ah. The tune he heard as a boy. Innocent, naïve, hopeful.

Well, he’s a man now. And far less innocent.

He lets out a hum of his own, deep and rumbling.

Chrollo moves to straddle you, peeling the duvet and sheets back, layer by layer, unveiling the best present he’s ever gifted himself. Just moving into such an intimate position is enough to send pangs of heat downwards, the hardness he fought against earlier returning with an urgency.

For a moment, he tries to fight against it.

Is it to save himself from your hatred? Is it to save you from what he’s planning?

It’s neither, he discerns, as the attempt was doomed to fail before it even started. He knows it was never meant to succeed.

His groin only throbs harder, aching for friction. It’s a spur-of-the-moment thing, the way he presses it against your clothed crotch, rocking back and forth, the slight relief just momentary as his desire only grows.

He regards your unsuspecting face. Stunning. 

Restraint is draining faster now, but still is present just enough to stop him from grinding any harder despite the urge. But if he’s to stop his movements, he’ll need a different kind of stimulation.

He bunches your shirt up, pulling, sliding a hand under your back so he can slip it off your arms and neck.

Now your chest is bare. How ravishing.

His fingers hook under the band of your sleep pants, dragging them off in a clean motion.

And now your legs are bare. How alluring.

He doesn’t take your underwear off - that would simply be crude, and he doesn’t need to tempt himself anymore. If he got the privilege (or right, considering your standings) of seeing you fully nude, as opposed to having a single layer covering the most tantalising part of you, he’d be oh-so-inclined to do something regrettable. His logic fights to win space within his buzzing thoughts, fingers daring to twitch as his imagination fills in the gaps of what the thin black layer forces to be left to it.

Chrollo parts your thighs for good measure, the maximum he can allow himself at this moment. It’d be impossible to not let his hands and gaze trail up them, observing how as he roams upwards, your flesh gets softer, warmer; how the flimsy fabric can’t hide all of your darker flesh; how your lower lips are pressing against the cloth, visible despite the darkness…

God, you’re so fuckable.

There’s a pretentious voice in his head, albeit muffled, that cries protests at the use of such a word to describe you. You’re something far more than that - beautiful, exemplary, one-in-a-million, ethereal. Surely your mouth would be better put to use having a fulfilling conversation with him, a conversation he can dissect and steer and puppeteer, as opposed to just opening as wide as it can to accommodate his cock, taking it as deep as your gag reflex will allow, barely able to breathe, much less talk. Although, he thinks with a faint, deep groan, twitching in his pants, that’s certainly a hypothesis I’ll have to test.

With the sight of your breasts, nipples hard and skin goosebumped from the chill of the room, it’s decided. Just because making his cheeks warm and his cock rock hard isn’t your most prominent trait, doesn’t mean that you aren’t absolutely exceptional at it.

Temptation isn’t something he’s inclined to resist, brushing a thumb over your nipples before leaning down to take one into his mouth. He swears he can hear your breath hitch as his tongue swirls around, breathing getting slightly lighter. An eager hand reaches for the other one, kneading as gently as he thinks he can.

Soft is the first thing he thinks. Your flesh is so soft, so delicate, so tender. If you were awake, he’d vocalise his compliments - and do so loudly, unrestrained.

Your breathing changes as he points his tongue to lightly flick at your nipple repeatedly. Chances are you’re being taken out of REM sleep, but your consciousness doesn’t matter at this stage. And some part of him hopes for it, brief images flashing in his mind of barely-open teary eyes slowly rolling to the back of your head. They’re obscene, so utterly immoral to even fantasise about, yet even the split-second thought makes his stomach jump, shivering a bit as he feels himself be almost overcome by them.

He can’t help but slightly wet his lips in anticipation, relishing in the knowledge that his instincts are being held back with the slightest thread. If he moves even slightly faster than his rational, calculating, non-carnal mind intends, then it’ll snap. He’ll snap.

Almost trembling, he reaches across to his bedside table. The movements are imprecise, but he’s sure this practice will allow him to execute them with much more grace for the inevitable time you’ll be awake. Yes, you’ll be awake and whining and he’ll wet his lips in anticipation and be met with your lingering taste and you’ll want him as much as he wants you- 

He almost falls forward as his own lust threatens to overtake him. Focus on the necessary steps.

Taking a shuddering breath, he leans down to pull open the drawer, to find a bottle hidden at the back, purposefully concealed behind an upright copy of Tess of the D’Urbervilles. Quickly shifting his weight back, he pops the cap open, spreading some of the slick contents onto his fingertips. With his free hand, he pulls down the loose elastic of his pyjama pants, shucking them off, the cold air making him quiver slightly.

Time’s running out.

The movements are trembling, sloppy as he pours lube onto his length, and then onto your spread thighs. There’s a frantic inertia of sorts, a mad momentum - the more he does, the faster he has to go, the anticipation making his stomach swell and dip. He’s really going to do this. It’s really going to happen, and it’ll be amazing.

There. Done. Everything’s ready.

Chrollo takes a shaky breath, gripping just above your knees, and squeezes your thighs around his dick.

Jesus fucking Christ.

Your thighs are warm from the duvet, perfectly cosy and wet from the lube for his cock.

Little time is wasted as he begins to thrust his hips, trying not to give himself too much too soon. The steady pace is slowly increased, little by little, a fragile incline so he can drag this out for as long as possible. 

Can you feel it? Can you feel the warmth radiating from him? Is there some part of your mind that’s awake, but can’t do anything to stop him? Or better yet, is eager to please him?

He strains out a hiss through gritted teeth, peppering kisses over your exposed neck, trying his best not to bite. The pace increases yet again. His eyes are fixated on the mound in your underwear, a more sinister form of curiosity burning within. 

What does your pussy look like?

He won’t use En, that’s just cheating. He wonders and ponders and conjures up the most filthy images his mind can muster. A warm, tight hole that clenches for him as he slips in and out, teasing you. A pretty clit for him to tease with his fingers as you whine, for him to suckle on as you choke on sobs of pleasure. Folds for him to run his tongue through as you rut your hips against his face; for him to run his tip along, collecting your slick.

He imagines how his cock would look disappearing inside of your cunt, how your grip would be so suffocating, how your tits would bounce as he fucks it (because shit, they’re already moving so vigorously now, as he holds his strength, and he can’t even begin to picture what they’d look like if he loses control buried deep inside you, repeatedly stuffing you to the hilt as you cry out). He imagines how you’d tighten around him, babbling something incoherent as you wrap your arms and legs around him, and oh fuck, he can’t pull out now. He imagines the tension snapping, giving a rumbling groan as he shoves himself into you as deeply as possible, eyes screwing shut and burying his face in the junction between your neck and shoulder, riding out his high with a few shallow thrusts.

And finally, he imagines how his cum would look leaking out of your pussy, twitching and swollen from a nice good fuck. The afterglow. The squeak you’d give if he fingered it back into you, growling at you to not waste a drop, keep it all inside for me.

The thought makes his hips stutter a little, threatening to slip out of the plushness between your thighs. Once he regains his rhythm, though, they’re speeding up, relentlessly fucking himself into your thighs over and over, kneading the flesh as he squeezes them tighter and closer.

Chrollo cups your face with a single hand, and leans in. 

It’s the second time he’s properly kissed you tonight, and it feels fucking amazing. Your soft lips, your soft thighs, they’re all working together to make his head swim in bliss. You’re working to make him feel good. Yes, him. Nobody else. You’re his.

The thoughts run wild. He has as little control over them as he does his hips.

How would it feel to fuck you in some other position? How would it feel to flip you onto your stomach, pulling your hips back to meet his, as he stuffs himself into your sopping cunt over and over, watching your ass bounce? How would you cry out at the way his balls slap against your swollen clit, building up the pressure inside you until you just can’t take any more?

How would you grind on top of him? How would you moan as you bounce, tilting your head back as you stretch yourself on his length, panting? How many times could you do it until your legs trembled uncontrollably, forcing yourself to impale yourself on his cock just one more time? When he’d plant his feet on the bed firmly and thrust his hips up, grabbing yours and bouncing you in time, would you wail, or simply slump over, completely unable to form a thought as you cum around him for the nth time?

You’re flexible enough to fold into a mating press, right? How deep could he go? How fast could he go? How would your beautiful skin look covered in love bites?

The coil of pressure within him grows even tighter even faster, balls slapping against your thighs, hips pistoning rhythmlessly.

If he asked, oh-so-nicely, for you to get on your knees and please him with your mouth, would you oh-so-sweetly do it? Would you suckle his swollen tip? Would you tease him with a glint of mischief in your eyes? Would you find his most sensitive spots and exploit them? Would you trace your tongue along the veins? Would you massage his balls? Would you let him control the pace, a hand intertwined in your hair? Would you look up at him as you tear up, doe-eyes wide and eager to please? Would you rub your pretty pussy while he shoots thick ropes of cum down your throat, pressing your nose against his pelvis?

Yes, he decides as the coil begins to snap, you would.

Chrollo comes to a sudden halt, choking out a rich groan in a low timbre. The noise becomes more strained as he rides out the high, the overwhelming euphoria becoming just a bit too intense as it begins to morph into overstimulation. Once he’s sure the moment’s over, he lets go of your legs, pulling back to catch his breath and admire his work.

Ropes of cum paint your chest, some making it as far as your neck, your chin. It’s beautiful, the unruly mess he’s made - no, the mess you’ve made of him.

You’re a real beauty, you know that?

The bathroom tiles are cold against his feet as he grabs a washcloth to clean you up. It’s sad to see it go, to a primal extent, but it’s probably for the best to ensure he doesn’t get any ideas for a second round tonight.

For future nights, though? The chest he’s covering up will soon be exposed soon enough.

He’ll have to get more sleeping pills. You simply must try this again soon. 

Next time, he’ll taste you. The time after that, you’ll taste him. He can hardly wait, nor can he stop the dull throbbing starting up in his groin again.

He sates himself for the time being with the knowledge that the time after that, you’ll be awake.

#chrollo #chrollo lucilfer #chrollo lucifer #chrollo x reader #yandere chrollo #yandere chrollo lucilfer #yandere chrollo x reader #yandere hxh #hxh #hxh x reader #yandere hxh x reader #tw yandere

[beary-rambles]

Bound by blood

summary: Its the morning after your unspoken confessions with jacaerys. And you are faced with the aftermath of your actions.

r.q: Ok 1. Your writing is so good 2. I need a part 2 to Jacaerys x alicentdaughter!reader where reader stays with Jacaerys joining team black and we need tk get everyone's reaction to alicent daughter!reader staying like

w.c: 2.1k

c.w: implied smut, alternative timeline, dialogue heavy, nail biter jacaerys, aemond appearance, fluff, even though they are now lovers they still argue lmaooo, not proofread, happy ending!

a.n: heavily requested im so sorry this took awhile and it might not be what people wanted but i hope you all enjoy !! <3

part one part three (backstory) (soon) masterlist

Your eyes flutter open and you rubbing your hand to cover your eyes as the bright shining sun begins to shine rays down on you. You look over at the spot next to you expecting to see jacaerys laying next to you but instead you reach over and feel the cold spot next to you. He must have been up for a long time.

A pit forms in your stomach maybe preparing yourself to turn over and see a cup of moon tea sitting on the bedside table but when you’re instead greeted by a folded piece of paper and a cup of water with some fruits.

‘I'm sorry that i will not be here when you awake my love, i had some things i must discuss with my mother. Do not rush yourself but once you're ready you should make your way to the main hall so we can speak.

with all my love, jacaerys’

you sit up, chugging down the cup of water and taking a few bites of the fruit before sliding off the bed, eyeing the red splotches of blood pooling around where you had been laying leaving some dried blood on your thighs. You needed a bath. As if they could read your mind a maid walked in and you jumped.

“i am so sorry for startling you princess.” with a bow of her head you relax and bring the blanket to wrap around yourself suddenly feeling very embarrassed that she saw you like this. An unmarried woman who had clearly been sullied.

“The princess had requested i come here and run you a bath my lady” The princess? your face heats in embarrassment as you can only nod you head. He had told her, of course he would, especially after last night he seemed very keen on you staying here with him.

The only you could think about as you get scrubbed down was the slight ache between you legs and your mother. You wondered how she would react to all this, what was going to happen when you don't return home, or maybe you do but come back? all of your stuff is in the keep but its nothing of true value to you you suppose, everything that matters to you is here because all that truly matters to you is jacaerys.

You worry what your family will think if you don't return home, maybe that they killed you or kidnapped you. Will they send people here to come retrieve you? You wonder what jacaerys is doing right now, is he considering the same things you are?

You're shocked to be presented with a nice black dress instead of your older green one, you stare at your old dress on laying on the ground. You remember when she had gifted it to you, she had said it was hand made for you made in the house color. You remember her face and how she smiled at you when you spun around to show it to her and how she told you how gorgeous you looked. you look back at the maid who was looking at you expectantly and you apologize allowing her to dress you. You cant get hung up on these things, especially now that you’ve chosen to stay it does break your heart a bit to think about the fact that your last conversation with your mother was so short.

You try to suppress your anxiety as you are led towards the main hall where jacaerys had asked you to met him. when you get closer you can hear heavy discussions, you try to softly open the door but once you’re in the room the door closes so loudly behind you you hiss. Dreadfully turning around to see the room full of not only rhaenyra daemon and her children but the velaryon’s and many a council man.

“Good afternoon.” Everyone nods their head at you giving you a good afternoon in return. You don't notice him until he's standing right in front of you, “jacaerys,,”He lifts up your hands and presses a kiss against your lips. “Did you rest well?” You nod and he smiles at you, his hand reaching into his pocket and pulling out a necklace, reaching head hands behind your back to clip it on you.

You grab it in your hands and notice its a black metal sigil of house Targaryen. You look at him and he's just smiling at you, “You like it?” You hum and nod your head, he grips your hand and leads you towards the table where everyone had been standing around watching you. Your face heats when you notice rhaenyra’s happy face and daemons smirk.

“Now that the princess is here might we address the issue at hand?”

“where are we to go from here?”

Jacaerys takes a step closer to the table keeping one of his hands on your back “as i said we will be married tonight-”

You flashes back to last night where he had mentioned over and over again with shake breaths how he would marry you and how he would love to be your husband. You look down at the ground as you flush.

“Not to rain on your parade my prince but i have to be the one to ask it, how do we know the princess is to be trusted?” His hands slam on the table and he leans forward glaring daggers at the lord, “You will not accuse my wife of anything-” You place your hand on his back, “please do not get angry on my behalf Jace its fine. Besides there's something i should bring up.”

Everyone in the rooms attention turns to you, “I think it is best if i return to the keep.” Jacaerys whips towards you with an alarmed look, “what-” “i believe it is best if i inform my family i am staying here in person.” “That is a horrible idea they are animals!” “And you think they would act any better lest they believe me kidnapped?!” “You could send them a letter.” “a letter that you could easily have forced me to write they need to see and hear me say it.” “you are acting irrationally.” “I am acting irrationally?!?! for fearing they shall send their bannermen here to storm dragonstone putting everyone in danger?!”

“do they even like each other?” lucerys whispers to rhaena who just shrugs, baela stands with her arms crossed staring at the pair who are glaring daggers at one another, “they are angry because they care about each other.”

“and you would rather risk your own life?” “it is the best option-” “you are a ridiculous women.” “and you are nothing more than a fool if you believe you are right!”

“and what if they believe you are forced into saying it?” daemon cuts into you and jacaerys argument. You take a deep breath and step away from jacaerys, “They shall believe me, i am family.”

You look at jacaerys who has begun biting on one of his nails with a far away look. You grab both his hands and lace them with yours. “you must realize i am not asking for your permission.” he sighs and rests his forehead against yours with his eyes closed. “You must not leave me.” You can feel his heartbeat in the palm on his hand, beating erratically against his skin. He is afraid. Of not only you not returning back to him because you were forced to stay in the keep but because he is afraid you will not returned because you will be slayed.

“i will return to you i promise.” He is silent for awhile, thinking it over before he nods and takes a step away from you without a word. You turn your attention back to everyone else in the room trying your best to suppress your embarrassment as they give you sly looks.

“I do however agree with my son i worry for your safety should you return to the keep, they are not kind people.”

“I thank you for your worries my queen but unlike the rest of you they consider me their own flesh and blood. the worst that would happen to me is a few bumps and scratches i swear this. As i had been saying it is best if i were to return as soon as possible as i was even supposed to return last night. I am surprised they have not sent anyone to see me.” You know your mother must be worried sick and it leaves a pit your throat that you swallow down to your stomach. You cant think about those things right now.

As if on cue you hear a loud dragon roar from out side and you whip your head around to look out the window. “Vhagar.” “Aemond.” Jacaerys spits out next to you his face angry.

“I should go speak with him.” “I shall come with you.” “absolutely not. I will not have him harm you jacaerys. You remember what he did to you Jace.” You hand running lightly across the cheek where he had been struck.

“I shall go.” “I'm sorry prince daemon but i fear you are the worst option.”

You instead turn to the most familiar face in the room, “ser erryk will you accompany me?” As he was your sworn protector before he had left he nods, “Of course princess.”

A few more exchanges are spent between you and the others in the room, exchanging a kiss with jacaerys before you exit erryk quickly following behind you. Rhaenyra walks over to jacaerys and places her hand on his shoulder. “She will be fine sweetheart. You should not worry.” She rubs his back as he runs his hands down his face. “I hope you are right my queen.” She pinches his back lightly and smiles at him. “You love her.”

“More than anything.”

The grip you have on the fabric in your hand is tight as you quickly make your way down the bridge while aemond gets off vhagar. “Sister I am shocked to see you unharmed.”

“Aemond.” He stares at you with a curious look in his eye. “I had told mother the storm must have kept you held up but she was insistent i come and see you myself. She’s been worried sick.”

“extend my apologies too her.” He raises an eyebrow and looks you up and down. Once you two lock eyes and you stare at him not saying a single word. He seems to catch what you are saying and scoffs. “You are a fool.”

You shake your head at him, “They would not want me home anyway. For i have been tarnished and tainted by one you claim to be a bastard.” He freezes and you catch it even if its for a split second. His eye twitches. He says nothing just stares at you for a long moment. “I thought you were better than this. That you would get over whatever fascination you had with him. But it seems i was wrong.”

“extend my well wishes to sister and mother.” You toss your green dress towards him and he catches it. eyeing it before he looks back up at you. “I should kill you where you stand.” He makes no move to make good on his word, you doubt he fears ser erryk taking a step closer with his hand on his sword. “You do not wish to kill me brother. For there is no worse fate than being a Kinslayer.” Without even sparing another glance at you he climbs on vhagars back and flies off. You do not move from where you stand until he leaves you sight in the sky. a bittersweet feeling filling you stomach knowing it was the last time you would probably see him.

You do not notice you are even crying until ser erryk is crouched in front of you using his cape to wipe your face. “It is for the best princess.” “was it hard to leave your brother ser erryk?” he pauses for a moment, deep in thought before he nods. “It was. but i know it was for the best. You should feel the same.”

You rush back inside and are quickly greeted by jacaerys who was pacing anxiously by the doors his nail in his mouth but he quickly springs into action wrapping his arms around you tightly. burying his head in your neck as he lets out a sigh of relief. “do not worry my love. nothing will separate us.” and it is the truth. for not only a few hours later you two share a blood kiss, bounding the two of your souls together at last.

--

tags: @b00kw0rmsworld

#house of the dragon #hotd #hotd imagine #jacaerys targaryen x reader #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys strong #prince jacaerys #jacaerys targaryen #jacaerys velaryon #hotd jacaerys #jacaerys x reader #jace x you #jace velaryon #jace targaryen #jace x reader #hotd fanfic #hotd x reader #hotd x y/n #house of the dragon fanfiction #house of the dragon fanfic #house targaryen #jacaerys

[merbear25]

Patience is a virtue

Learning to trust isn't easy, especially when you're still picking up the pieces from the past. Even though the desire to get to know you is a nawing persistence, he values your boundaries. Whenever you decide to open up, he'll be waiting.

a/n: idk I just have a lot of feelings.

Sanji, Ace, Corazon

CW: SFW, gn!reader, angsty(maybe?), fluff, mutual feelings

Sanji: You'd grown quiet around him. The both of you had just been starting to chat a little more. It felt nice to hear your soft laughs as he told you jokes about what had happened that day. But then, the angelic laughter came to a hault, leaving him to question what he'd said to bring such sorrow to your lovely complexion. Even without knowing what he'd done to upset you, he apologized―pleading, in a way, to move past this and get back to seeing you smile.

You needed time though. You didn't have to say it ―it was written all over your face. Backing off was a choice made with much heartache, but he did so nonetheless: deciding that persuing you in the matter would only push you further away from him.

Distancing yourself wasn't something that you'd necessarily wanted to do. However, those buds of elation and adoration sprouting were also accompanied with the bitter cold of past rejection that stifled any pursuit of happiness you were hoping for.

The erosion of the hole in you was swallowing your very being, but when this had shown to be too troublesome for others, he was still there: he didn't pry, he never rushed you, just waited for your return to him.

This was someone worth pushing those doubts aside for. The next time you spoke to him, your heart lead the way, despite your fears trailing closely behind. His warmth helped melt the frost that'd been collecting over the years.

Ace: He was growing accustomed to you rather quickly. You were certainly kind-hearted and nice to have a laugh with, all of which made him start gravitating towards you whenever you were present. There was surely an interest in you, one that he had not fully become aware of. Just as he was discovering his feelings for you, you changed gears: avoiding him, reverting back into your shell. Despite how hurt he felt, he couldn't demand you to tell him the reason―it wouldn't be fair to you.

If you needed time away from him, he would give you that. He wasn't going to force his friendship on you. That being said, this time apart was good for him, as well. Thoughts of you came and went, but many of them stayed: something interesting or funny would happen and he wanted to tell you about it but felt like he couldn't.

This time away from each other only echoed your longing for companionship; you were left with nothing but the same loneliness that'd surrounded you each time prior. Tears brought on by thoughts of the flame lit between you eventually burning out stung your eyes. Even in solitude, fear of abandonment intruded on you.

There were small glances he threw your way, none of which were harboring resentment. Instead, they showed concern. Anticipation for a row that wouldn't come: you stood there wondering what made him different.

How can I learn to trust? Can you help me? Seeing you make your way to him was the remedy he needed for the flickering flame he'd worried was losing its luster in your eyes. However, you were both sure now that it'd never go out.

Corazon: Taking the leap of faith to reveal his secrets to you was terrifying: you were, in fact, different from the others, but something like this wasn't an easy choice to make. That being said, nothing could replace the memories you two were creating together. Each day that passed, regret for the secret he'd let you in on didn't come. The bond he was under the impression you two had been forming was faltering though. It wasn't important for him to know what he'd done exactly―he just knew he wanted to make it up to you.

Your body language did the talking for you: your sunny disposition had clouds rolling in and the gloom of a storm was on the horizon. Even though he longed to come to your aid, he understood that pushing you into a conversation wouldn't fair well for your blossoming relationship.

You wanted to shield this budding love from the harsh storm brewing within. Your frail body could only do so much though when caught in this hurricane. Gale force winds, rain that lashed at your skin: abrasions which came with each potential relationship.

No stranger to the torment this world had to offer, he could see the wear and tear of your inner termoil on your soft face. It took each bit of inner strength not to go to you and tell you everything would be alright. He wanted to give you the freedom to choose to share your burdens with him. In spite of the distance between the both of you, his eagerness to rescue you from yourself was unmistakable.

I can't carry on through this storm alone. Can you be the one I lean on? Finding your way back to him, he instinctively held our his arms to wrap you in the warmth you'd been in desperate need of, yet unable to secure it up till now. You were now fully prepared to take your own leap of faith.

#one piece #x reader #one piece x reader #one piece imagine #one piece x you #one piece fluff #one piece angst #sanji x reader #sanji imagine #op sanji #one piece sanji #sanji #vinsmoke sanji #ace #ace x reader #ace x you #fire fist ace #ace portgas #portgas d ace #sanji x you #corazon #rosinante #donquixote corazon #corazon x reader #corazon x you #donquixote rosinante #rosinante corazon #rosinante x reader #rosinante x you

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Can I ask about some yandere headcanons Vil, Malleus and Azul? with a darling like Columbina (from Genshin Impact) or Daki (from Demon Slayer) if possible, it can be from darling! daki, kind of how they would react (in the case of Vil ) when seeing that the darling resisted the poison or the love potion (in the case of Malleus) would be the same as that of Vil only that darling does not fall into the love potion. And in the case of the 3 (Vil, Malleus , Azul) It would be how they would react when they see darling alive but with their head in their lap

(I'm sorry if this is too long, it's just that I haven't found any headcanon of darling like Daki)

Daki Reader | Yandere Twisted Wonderland 

Well you can’t shake your suitors off with the simple detachment of your head especially when that's a mouse compared to the elephant in the room. Fatally allergic to light, sash able to imprison all that you wish, your immense strength, oh and almost forgot to mention your desire to feast on only the most beautiful. The great thing about your suitors is that they’re all so beautiful and all so willing to pursue you. And should any of them be able to reduce you to tears and whining about your loss than perhaps your hidden sibling will be more than happy to help:

Vil Schoenheit 

“W-what is this?!”

“Hahaha humans are so stupid. You all think nothing can stop you. Hahaha such idiots. Its the behavior of cattle.”

“(Y/n)--”

“Consider yourself lucky to be beautiful enough to be eaten by me!”

That says nothing for your speed and strength 

And he can try to chop your head with magic

But if he does 

You’ll cry…and summon the one person or rather demon that’s going to end this charade

“Oi oi oi oi you think its nice to bully my sweet innocent sibling?!”

But if you aren’t immediately devouring him 

His dorm is where you thrive

Malleus Draconia  

“Hm you would be a problem, if you weren’t so devoted. Right, if you want to be me you have to show me your worthy enough.”

“I’ll do anything for you my love.”

He’s willing to deliver all the most beautiful if it shows he’s worthy of you

Now whether or not you have intentions of actually appeasing him 

He will do as he says and provide for you

Now your beloved sibling most likely will never approve

But if it keeps you both fed and you happy there won’t be a problem

Azul Ashengrotto

“I think you’re beautiful…”

“Y-you do?!”

“I do.”

Oddly enough is most prepared for this 

He expects someone as powerful as you has a black-widow quality about you

So he’ll seal you the only way you know how

You’re so focused on the superficial that you sign the contract at face value

Too bad theres a third party loop hole

#yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere azul ashengrotto #yandere azul ashengrotto x reader #yandere azul x reader #yandere azul #yandere azul twst #yandere malleus draconia #yandere malleus x reader #yandere malleus twst #yandere x reader #yandere x you #lovelyyandereaddictionpoint #yanderexrea #yandere #yandere twst #yandere vil schoenheit #yandere vil #yandere vil x reader

[cheralith]

all i wanted — gojo satoru, ft. geto suguru

content warnings: gn!neutral, no pronouns or body parts mentioned, angst

he can't believe what he's seeing.

in the park's gazebo that sits near your apartment building, there you are. settled underneath its vines and ivy and the sunset looking overhead in the sky. a bundle of colorful flowers gathered in your arms with a large heart-shaped box of chocolates nestled underneath. there's a plethora of matching shaped balloons settled around the floor of it, all red and pink and white and shiny, resembling mirrors that shine your much too happy face that doesn't face him...

but another.

there you are, hiding your shy smile behind a hand and giggling at whatever suguru is murmuring as he pushes a lock of hair away from your flustered face. satoru fists his own bouquet of flowers he gathered last minute hidden behind him, evidently frustrated as he bites his lip so hard that it draws blood. his seem so weak and desolate compared to the larger than life bouquet suguru has given you; a bouquet that shows careful arranging and organizing of each flowers, not the flimsy, clustered flowers that satoru grabbed on his rushing way to see you to declare what he had been hesitating to say for the longest time.

his knuckles turn white and pulse with a fiery ache from how hard he was grasping his now-bent flowers, doing his best to shove down the thick lump in his throat as he sees suguru wrap his arms around you and pull you closer to him as you accept his valentines proposal of "be mine?" written on a small, but intricate lunchbox cake decorated with colors that replicate the balloons. satoru doesn't miss the small bunch of boxes seated on the benches of the gazebo already unwrapped, the leaves of their wrappers nestled nicely on the ground—there's more presents than flowers in his bouquet, and satoru cannot feel anymore pathetic. his flowers can't compare to the intricate set-up suguru has created. he thinks its almost a mockery of sorts.

it's not fair, he thinks. you've been friends with satoru in the same length that you've been friends with suguru, and he's sure that both of them have harbored feelings in a time frame equivalent to each other, so why does suguru get first pick? he's the one that broke off from you, him, and shoko... he's the one that left you mysteriously in the dust those years ago... he's that ignored you on the first couple semesters of college up until a few months ago...

but satoru was there. why can't you acknowledge him in the way you acknowledge suguru? satoru was there every step of the way—his shoulder was the one you cried on. his arms were the one you ran to when you celebrated a good grade on a test. his presence was the one that comforted you in the bane of suguru's absence.

but here's the problem.

you did acknowledge him. you had actually acknowledged satoru's place in your life so much and valued it to a degree that you took the risk of perhaps making it more than just a mere long-term friendship. maybe it wasn't explicit, but it was implied enough to the point where it struck fear in satoru's heart.

and he ran away from it like the coward he was—terrified to his wits end that another suguru situation would happen again to him, in which his feelings already engrained so deep within him that if there's the slim chance that you'll leave him like suguru did, there'd be nothing but a deep and hollow pit in his heart. a relationship would just increase that chance—and he wasn't going to take any chances of that happening.

satoru thought he'd never fathom two large chunks of his heart being empty, yet here he is—facing what remains of his heart that belongs to you in the palm of the other person who owned the other half of it and tore it away all those years ago.

the ground feelings more dense, locking him in place and forcing him to watch the scene that unfolds before him.

if he was just a few mere hours faster, he knew that he could be in suguru's place is he was just stronger, if he was just willing to pay the small price for a potential forever with you. it was a severe last-minute decision, but he knew that's what he wanted, what he yearned for. what he even needed, perhaps.

yet, his hesitation has paid its dues.

your back is to him, thankfully. but suguru's eyes flicker up from your smiling face that he holds tenderly in his palms to share satoru's grief-stricken one. for a second, his face in unreadable to satoru, until a cruel smirk snakes on suguru's lips.

and, while never breaking eye contact with satoru, those same lips reach down and share a soft kiss with yours, your forever now being in suguru's hands that just barely pass his own.

the bouquet of frail flowers fall to the ground, yet no feeling returns to satoru's hand. only a cold wind of nothing grasps it back.

#bisexual gojo agenda uhuh uhuh #some angst for the season haha #my inner parawhore was choosing between misguided ghosts and aiw but i think aiw was a better fitting title/song choice for this lawl #also no context given besides the aforementioned #so daydream to your hearts desire! #gn!reader #gender neutral!reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #gojo satoru #gojou satoru #gojo #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #geto suguru #getou suguru #geto #geto suguru x reader #geto x reader #gojo x you #jjk angst #gojo angst #geto angst

[lo-fi-charming]

so i've been keeping up with TMP as it's airing, which has been fun, it's actually really nice to experience this kind of story weekly since i came into TMA late and listened up to the s4 finale in like, a month or two. i've been enjoying the new characters and statements, and while i was worried i'd have trouble actively listening (my attention span/executive functioning can be really variable when it comes to podcasts), it's been surprisingly easy for me to actually listen to each new ep the day it drops publicly

all this to say im enjoying the show! but i've found myself feeling increasingly frustrated with a couple things i keep seeing when it comes to discussions of it

to me, it seems... there's been a pervasive reluctance to take TMP as what it is. and i do understand that. it'd be stupid to pretend TMP doesn't exist exclusively because of TMA and that show's success, that it's a successor that was pitched as being similar. it's a story being written by the same people (plus guests), in the same universe (roughly), going for about the same tone and maybe themes.

i just feel like it's a bit of a shame, though, that so many folks seem unwilling not to carry TMA with them when they're engaging with TMP

i don't know where or when it was said, but i swear there was a comment made by jonny and/or alex about how TMP will have some commonality with TMA in terms of world-building, but also, people who listened to TMA first may find themselves theorizing in the wrong direction because we're judging things based off what is no longer concrete, reliable information; things are going to work differently in the world of TMP, and since we have preconceived notions on what is relevant or how things work, that's going to influence how we engage with information presented in TMP if we let it. and that's not even considering the fact that they've been explicit in conveying the idea that TMP was written so you can experience it fully without having listened to any of TMA at all!

i'm very much someone who tries to engage with media on its own terms, largely taking things at face value until i'm given reason to suspect otherwise. that's something i'm trying my best to still do with TMP, even though obviously, i've also listened to TMA and am basing some of my thoughts and personal theories on what we know from that

but that's what i mean to say i guess, it's something you have to actively choose to do. and it feels like, just based on what i've been seeing in fandom spaces, that a lot of people are having a bit of an odd time with TMP because of a reluctance to do that?

i think the easiest way to explain what i mean is to point to a general acceptance, already on the level of fanon it seems, to interpret the computer voices as Our Jon and Martin (+ Jonah/Elias, maybe). now obviously we have the actual real world reason why their voices are present in TMP, because of course jonny and alex were going to come back as voices in the show in some way. and i 100% agree it's a perfectly logical conclusion to then interpret their inclusion as being related to Jon and Martin somehow. i'm personally very into the theory that it is in no way them - not in any way that matters - but specifically their voices that have been stolen (by the Web?) as a means to help spread fears in other realities. but that's really not how i've been seeing people play with the concept? it seems largely 1:1. and again, i totally understand where people are coming from with that - especially when you consider how it can be a super fun concept for horror and angst, or even just the fact that folks want an excuse to carry their favorite characters into this new show and still play around with them. i promise i don't mean to bring this up as a means of making anyone feel bad or like, chastised for interpreting things a certain way and playing in the space!

it's the biggest example of what i mean though, and was a huge point of frustration for me when we were first being presented with TMP. it's not just that i don't want the voices to be Jon and Martin proper (i am very into their Ambiguous End, i believe it's best to leave that as a space for fans to play in); in all honesty, i think it's kind of a shame and maybe even a bit boring (im sorry!) to be engaging with TMP this way

and it's not just stuff like that - i've been seeing a fair amount of people expressing frustration and feeling disappointed with how TMP is hitting, but i mean, i feel like that's inevitable when you're going into it expecting More TMA? i saw at least one person basically say "ive been waiting for it to make me feel the way TMA made me feel, and it hasn't yet", and i really just feel like that's setting yourself up to be dissatisfied! beyond the fact that we're only 5 episodes in and the story has barely gotten a chance to happen yet, a huge element of this new show is that it's being approached as a largely collaborative effort, it seems, with lots of guests coming in to help shape the story and more writing and plotting influence that isn't jonny

obviously it's fine to not be super into that! undoubtedly it's a question of taste. but you do have to acknowledge that that's the case and adjust your expectations accordingly, or else you're not going to have a great time

i really like TMA, i had a great time with it, but even if TMP is a sequel to its parent podcast, it's not the same thing - and personally, i don't want it to be! i do hope that's a sentiment that is able to be more widely felt by some fans as we gain more distance from TMA while TMP is airing. i just think more people would be able to enjoy it that way, and come up with more interesting theories and interpretations of things! but those are really just my own personal thoughts

#endlesschatter #tmagp #i just needed to express some of this #it's a bit tricky tho esp with the voices as jmart thing bc a lot of my buddies and pals are playing in that space #and i hate to sound like im vagueing or complaining i swear im not ;lskdjfljk it is truly so unserious in the end #it's just very much not my interpretation or desire to see canonized in any way #though i cant deny some of the arguments made in favor of that interpretation are compelling #and i mean if it's the case in canon! not like im gonna be mad at folks for calling it!! #might not be my favorite angle but could still be plenty fun! #but also yes yeah i just wrote a lot of words down just to say i think it might be nice. if. #the fandom at large didn't try putting a coat of TMA paint over TMP and interpreting everything that happens in a TMA-colored lens

[infantilebliss]

Full Regression or Synthesis

I always think that there are two roads for an Adult Baby to end up in if given the opportunity to be permanently regressed by someone who cares for them: they can find themselves either finding all of their adulthood be nearly replaced by their second babyhood, or have the two fuse together into something new all together.

Having an adult be turned into a permanent baby is adorable in its own right. Seeing all of the negative aspects be flushed out of their system like stress, anxiety, and other factors out of them... replaced with a relatively simplistic softnessness that is complimented with factors of trust, assurance, love, care, and knowing that they will be ok. One where, if allowed by their caretaker, can be allowed to do less and less for themselves when it comes to self-maintenance and find themselves regress as deep as they want, even if they are back to babbling and gurgling at their loving caretaker. There is something so sweet and wholesome about someone who is willing to be pushed down into such a vulnerable state, being given so much foundation and care until they find themselves either full of energy or always sleepy for the rest of eternity~

One one hand, you can have a little one that is given the full baby treatment. No more adulthood for them: complicated toys are replaced with the biggest fluffy stuffies, the ranchy or violent movies are replaced with baby shows, and all their meals and daily wears are as infantile as they can be. Instead of being treated like an adult, the adult baby is given the full baby treatment down to the tee. Some little ones are definitely little cuties that are meant to be given such a foundation, especially little ones that really desire and need it. Some want to simply regress fully back to a place where they can truly feel calm and happy, and need to be given the full baby treatment by their caretaker. Sure, some might do less than babyish things with their stuffies, but for the most part you aren't going to expect them to do anything but chew and drool on them when snuggled up to one in her crib with the biggest swaddle around her waist and lullabies and dancing stars are above her crib~

Then there is the other side... the one where a little one is very much in desire to have their quenches such as smoking or other vices be replaced with pacifiers, to have someone fully pad them up and take care of them, and always dress cutely and full of fleece for warmth and lace and ribbons for adorableness... but still wants to ride the roller coasters that are much too big for any baby. That still want to enjoy a nice drink to relax their heads when cuddling with their caretaker (even if it is inside their baby bottle~) and getting fuzzy together in their heads~ To be able to enjoy and snuggle together in front of an adult movie whilst the adult baby is thickly fluffed. One where, even if they want to go back to babbling and making little spit bubbles for their caretaker, the proper adult still respects and values their little heads... Always trying to fulfill both her adult and babyish needs until they are not just her adult or babyish needs... they are simply one and the same. A hybridization where she might go out in a beautiful dress, but it wouldn't be uncommon for her binky clip to be inside her dress waiting to comfort her, and thick paddling that crinkles alongside the many ruffles that are inside the otherwise adult looking dress~

I genuinely enjoy the idea of having adult infants that are both of these~ Having a little one that gets the desire to go all the way down the path of regression... and the other where the thesis and anti-thesis become a unique form of synthesis all together~ The thought of an adult infant chewing their little toes and smiling behind it as she gets her hair stroked as she wiggles in just her pampers and a coating of finger paint all over her is just as beautiful as an adult infant who is seen dressed in a similar manner and making a cute little mess under their chin, but enjoys writing screenplays, books, or drawing elegantly in her free time, her nursery lullabies being replaced with some harder music as she sucks her binky as she uses one of her massive stuffies as a seat~ A little adult that is snuggled up to the couch with a bottle of milk after being dressed up and watching her favourite teletubbies is just as beautiful as a little one that is dressed similarly, but is enjoying horror shows with her dada with a bottle of milk and vodka~

[rowarn]

i'm curious how you think simon would go about getting into an official relationship? like maybe the girl is kinda shy or wants to ask if she's the only one or just anything like that? how to get his attention and how to keep him? ♡♡

hmmm i think simon is kind of difficult to get the attention of. he doesnt really consider relationships as a possibility in day to day life. i also dont think he'd date a fellow soldier, i just dont see him as the type to fraternize or let a relationship possibly get in the way of his job.

he's also not really the type to consider dating a civilian. so in order to get his attention, i think the easiest way to go about it is...like...forced proximity.

simon doesnt spend extended time with anyone unless forced to. his job makes him interact with lots of people, naturally. but when hes off duty and home, if he can be alone he will absolutely do everything in his power to stay that way.

i think a good way to get his attention at the start would be just...talking to him. nothing crazy, he will not engage in conversation. but nice greetings and telling him to have a nice day is a good ice breaker -- form a routine with him and make him seek that routine out when he's home.

eventually, he'll start to look forward to your little smile and wave when he sees you. maybe you both go to the same market on the same days? maybe he's your neighbor? who knows! as long as you're someone just...in the outskirts of his life. someone who isn't a threat and someone consistent and kind.

simon is...difficult. he likes routine. he dislikes spontaneity. i think he would prefer someone good, someone who doesn't challenge him or make things needlessly difficult for him. he's dealt with a lot in his life and he deserves to have it easy when given the chance. he values kindness and quiet above all else.

once you have a nice lil simon dangling on ur fish hook, its pretty easy to keep him. his eyes don't wander and theres very, very few people who would bother to try and break down his walls to get him to be with them so it's not like he seeks anyone else out.

all you have to do is be there for him, just keep being the kind thing you are and treat him with the love and respect he needs. dont pick fights and don't try to control him. simon is...a free spirit. he does what he wants, when he wants and he doesn't like a leash on him.

hes not stupid or reckless so you dont have to worry about him doing anything crazy. he would never cheat and wouldn't do anything dangerous to put himself or you in any kind of line of fire.

so to keep him, you just have to go with his flow. be patient and understanding with him and he'll show his appreciation in all the ways he knows how.

he's a gentleman. he's the quiet sort of kind that makes you weak in the knees. he does acts of service bc it makes him feel good to do nice things for you and see a smile on your face.

simon is simultaneously easy and difficult i think!! hard to get, easy to keep!

#WIPES BROW #phew #ask #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #cod x reader

[writing-for-life]

Nuance in (The Sandman) Fandom

Send me asks about everything Sandman-related!

I thought a lot over the past few days, partly prompted by discourse on here, partly due to a couple of “interesting” asks and messages I received (the type you don’t answer). I *think* they might have been prompted by engaging in discourse on topics like anti-blackness/racism, misogyny/sexism, TERF characters etc in The Sandman.

Fandoms are always getting super sensitive if someone shines a critical lens on their favourite works, authors and characters. So to make this clear (in case it isn’t already obvious from my brain-rot blog):

I love The Sandman. I love Neil Gaiman. I have an extremely soft spot for Dream (and Desire btw, who deserves a lot more character analysis than just being summed up as “villainous, sexy bitch”. One day, perhaps ;)).

I can read The Sandman and just get lost in the story, even after decades and many rereads. 

But I can also view it through a critical lens—these things aren’t mutually exclusive.

Not critical enough or too critical?

As fans, we can get trapped in certain thinking patterns, like:

“My blorbo can do no wrong”-syndrome 

“Characters with flaws are inherently problematic and imply authorial endorsement of those actions” 

“Characterisation and problematic subtext are one and the same” (aka overanalysing and looking for problems where there are none is the death of every story, but failing to see problematic patterns where they are clearly visible is a problem, too).

Don't say anything bad about my favourite character

I think this doesn’t need much further exploration. It’s not my personal way of looking at stories through permanently rose-tinted glasses (I always feel it stalls my experience, but my experience is not everyone else's). Some people prefer that type of escapism, and I’m good with that (although the downside is of course that by not willing to engage with issues, we can unwillingly perpetuate them). Live and let live, ship and let sail. But please, for the love of god: Don’t insult people via their inboxes or messages just because their opinions and preferences don’t align with yours. I’m not going to sugarcoat it or phrase it “nicely”: It’s infantile (and a form of bullying btw), end of.

How can you even like a character who's so horrible? And that author must be equally horrible, too

We have to separate flawed characters, even those who are written to be really problematic, from real-life endorsement of these actions. 

Author, narrator and character are three fundamentally different things, and don’t overlap as much as some people seem to think. 

We can write vile, despicable characters to make a point (for me, Thessaly was always a prime example for this, and I explained why here). We probably hate them as we write them. I don’t know what else to say, but this facet of writing seems to get more and more lost on people, and it’s a worry. Crying for sanitised characterisation is one step away from censorship. We explore what is problematic about people and humanity through story. That’s how we process and learn. It’s nothing new, but it becomes impossible if we can’t write flawed and even disgusting characters. 

Face value…

Since I’m mostly in The Sandman fandom, I often read that its ending is hopeless, and that’s supposedly the entire message. 

It is agonisingly sad, yes. But is it truly hopeless? I personally see it as quite the opposite, but of course that’s my opinion, coloured by my life experiences.

I also get that show-only fans often haven’t read the comics, or at least not the whole arc. And as such, their outlook from what they’ve seen so far (and choose to focus on) has to be different by default. I also understand that many people are quite new to the comics, even if they have read them in their entirety. I’ve sat with them for 30 years, and I still find new things on every reread (and I read it more times than anyone should 🙈), and I still don’t feel like I’ve understood it all. Perhaps because I still haven’t fully understood myself (and it’s unlikely I ever will). If there’s one thing The Sandman isn’t, it’s one-dimensional and easy to grasp in its whole depth.

I just wrote a ginormous meta on it, if you’re interested, it’s here:

Subtext, (not so) glorious subtext

This is where it gets complicated:

We shouldn’t mix up characterisation and story subtext. Overanalysing every line to death will always make us find something that’s “problematic”, when it really isn’t in the wider context of the story.

Zooming in is NOT always a good thing. Sometimes, we actually need to zoom out. 

But subtext *can be* (accidentally) problematic. Even in stories we love. And none of this negates what I previously wrote.

Stories have real-life implications of sorts, and we need to be able to talk about it. That’s where those slightly flabbergasting, hostile inbox messages come in, and I want to expand on that "topic of contention" a bit:

Neil himself confirmed that the Endless basically warp reality, and that this is why, after Dream’s failed relationship with Nada, many black women in his vicinity suffer terrible fates (Ruby and Carla in particular). And that this spell is only broken when he dies, and that it is the reason why Gwen doesn’t suffer the same fate. And said Gwen then gets used as a plot device to basically absolve Hob (who canonically really is a problematic character, whether show-only fans like it or not) from his slaver past. Once again, very clearly: No one is making this up. Neil confirmed it (for the comics, and that was over 20 years ago. It remains to be seen if his stance has changed as we move into that arc in the TV show).

I don't think it is correct to imply that Dream as a character is racist (I've read that, too) because he logically can’t be. He holds *all* the collective unconscious. He is also, strictly speaking, not white. He is everything and nothing, and he shows up in many different ethnicities throughout the whole arc, depending on who looks at him. But Neil played with a subtext here (reality warping due to a bad relationship which then affects everyone with similar physical traits) that will read very differently to a black person than it reads to a white person, and we have to understand why that is an *extremely* slippery slope.

Plus, we are supposed to see Hob, who *was* a racist at some point (you can’t not be if you’re a slave-trader—it’s impossible by default) as redeemed. And yes, he *does* regret deeply, good for him (and if I were saying this aloud, you would hear the sarcasm in my voice, because it is indeed all about him. We are to sympathise/empathise with him and his character growth while there isn’t much mention of the people he maltreated). But also: it was a black woman who basically forgave him (with dialogue that personally makes me cringe). And that black woman who offers forgiveness is not truly a black woman—she is a character written by a white man. And as much as author and character are not the same (see above), there is an inherent sensitivity in that power imbalance that we can't brush under the carpet.

I don’t think Neil is racist. Probably quite the opposite, and I can even see that his intentions were good from a storytelling point of view. BUT intention and impact are two fundamentally different things, and telling the story this way (comic version) betrays blindspots only white people have. Just like women have blindspots when they tell stories about men, and men have blindspots when they tell stories about women (and there are a few of those in The Sandman, too). And and and…

As storytellers, we can’t always speak from lived experience. It’s impossible. And that also means we occasionally make mistakes that look bad in hindsight, even if our intentions were good.

I guess the proof is in the pudding: What do we do when people who *have* that lived experience tell us it looks bad? If they inform us why it is hurtful, plays into old stereotypes etc?

Are we willing to listen and yield (both are the foundations of allyship btw), or are we insisting that our viewpoint as someone *without* lived experience is right? That lived experience extends to all lived experiences (sex/gender, sexual orientation, age...), and from all we’ve heard from Neil so far, it seems important to him to rewrite what he sees differently today. Whether they’ll always get it right for the show—we’ll see. At the moment, it looks a lot better than in the comics, and certain issues are already being handled with a lot more sensitivity, but a few problems remain.

Pushing back on criticism that comes from people with lived experience is problematic—I’d encourage us to think about what it looks like if a white majority in the fandom is basically saying that the opinions of POC are essentially “overreactions” (and yes, that happened).

It’s complicated. The Sandman was written in a different time, and I think we have to distinguish between things that weren’t really problematic at the time but have aged poorly (again, Thessaly springs to mind, and I have lived experience as a queer person during that time, so I can see it in context while at the same time acknowledging that I would make changes to bring it to the present day), and things that were always a problem due to blindspots. They were a problem in 1990, and if they don’t get changed, they are still a problem today.

This fandom is generally so much more open and nicer than others I know. But that doesn’t mean it’s infallible, because it’s full of humans. 

Nuance is sorely needed, in both story interpretation and interaction between said humans.

#fandom discourse #fandom blindspots #sandman meta #sandman spoilers #the sandman #dream of the endless #hob gadling #nada #morpheus #sandman

[alpaca-clouds]

Colonialism never ended

Okay, let me talk about one thing that a lot of white folks don't quite seem to realize. And that is the fact that colonialism never really ended.

Like, the official telling of it was: "Oh, yeah, after world war 2 the colonizing nations realized it was wrong." Or, if it is more honest, then: "Yeah, after world war 2 the colonizing empires were out of money to uphold her colonies." But even that still very much is a total lie. We still live under colonialism - both settler colonialism and extractionist colonialism.

Probably the easiest way to realize, we still have settler colonialism in place, is to look at the amount of land that never was in any way or form given back to the indigenous folks who once called it their home. No, they do not get to live there again. And also, no, they will not see a penny of the money that might be extracted from their former homes through development, agriculture or for example oil extraction.

In the US the state that shows it maybe the strongest is Hawai'i, in which indigenous folks are more and more pushed away from where they were living and praying, as parts of the island get used for tourism, rich people homes, military stuff or maybe a nice observatory on one of their sacret sights. More and more indigenous Hawai'ians are forced to move away from Hawai'i. Because through the rich folks and their development, they cannot afford to live on their own islands any longer.

We also see it through extractions. I already spoke about the land in the USA, but the same is happening in so many other places. A lot of land (especially mines) all over Africa are still owned by white people directly or indirectly. So they will still, to this day, extract the wealth from it.

Or, heck, we have all those exotic fruit plantages all over the tropical regions. Like how the US literally overthrew a government to keep the banana productions going and keeping it in white people hands.

Or there is of course the fact that the fucking lines onf the maps we have now have been drawn by white people, artificially grouping people together, who might not even be from the same culture. Something that often instabilized nations - an outcome that was very clearly intended, to make it easier to control and extract value from the nations in question.

Just look at the entire thing with the Sykes-Picot-agreement, that is responsible for so many of the wars happening in the Arabian world right now. Or at the division of India, that was and still is cause for so much violence.

And of course, while Slavery is officially outlawed, the US kinda contructed its justice system all around keeping it further going. By criminalizing Black people for all sorts of stuff and then making unpaid prison labor legal.

Colonialism is still going strong. And really, whenever western nations go crying about China's neocolonialism, what they are really crying about is, that it loosens their own colonialist control over them. Not that there is colonialism happening at all.

And we cannot have a just world, until we fully decolonize and until reparations are paid for the evils that have happened for now five hundred years.

This is also, why we cannot have anything in terms of solarpunk futures, until we decolonize. Because solarpunk aims for a just world. A just world that cannot exist unter colonialism.

#solarpunk #colonialism #anti colonialism #decolonize #decolonisation #no justice no peace #indigenous rights #land back #first nations #social justice

[onesidedradiostatic]

Gotta be honest, I never thought "one sided ships" were my thing. Before I always needed both sides to reciprocate their love for each other...well, obviously that is until RadioStatic showed up on my feed. And I started to like the ship, obvi, but at the same time I was thinking "..ya know, I do like this..but not in a normal way, ya feel me? I just wanna see this TV fucker be total fallen for the Radio Demon, and Alastor to give almost zero fucks about Vox. Is that too specific for me?"

Thankfully, no. No it is not. Turns out a good chunk of people, namely all the beautiful souls on here, feel the exact same way I do about this ship. Totally one-sided pining on Vox's part, and Alastor's AroAce ass does not reciprocate his feelings at all. Which is absolutely perfect cause I don't feel comfortable shipping Alastor with anyone, and this ship brings a lot of angst and hilarity to me.

Like I honestly cannot wait for Season 2 for a good number of reasons (cause there is so much to look forward to), but one of my main reasons to be excited is to see how Vox will act in it. Will he ever be normal about Alastor?? Will he talk face to face with the Radio Demon?? How much will we see Vox be a competent Overlord and how much will we see Vox be his pathetic self about Alastor?

honestly I've had my share of one-sided ships but I don't know if I've actually seen or been into one as popular as this one LMAOOO. it is pretty nice, but also accredited to just their golden dynamic in canon, alastor's aroaceness and vox's canon one-sided obsession. idk there's also just so much about it that's so good even aside from its comedic value (like I NEED to know their history BAD)

#ask #osrs.txt #radiostatic #staticradio #hazbin vox #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor #I AM VERY BEHIND ON ASKS

[wannaeatramyeon]

Vegetable anon here if you remember 😭 I have a random thought idk what to do with. I feel like gun would ironically be really interested in how you do your makeup and attentively nod while you show how its done. Whilst goo......right after you apply your foundation would say "I don't see any difference" and eye roll😭😭😭😭 LIKE UKWIM

Vegetable anon of COURSE I remember you. (Your other ask is still in my inbox. It's just taking time 😭). But you know when a silly idea just grips you?

Makeup nonsense with your boyfriend: Gun Park, Goo Kim

Mostly G/N.

Gun Park x Reader

Gun is intense. You know this. But you've never had his focus and attention quite like right now.

"How hard can this be?"

Famous last words. Out of everything, Gun did not expect this to catch him out. His hands and fingers are not made for intricate work. Even his handwriting is barely legible.

So eyeshadow? Eyeliner? Mascara? You may very well be losing an eye.

He holds the brush between firm fingers though the pressure is feather light along your left lid.

When he shifts his attention to your right, you open your now free one and chance a peek at him.

See the crease between his brows, his nostrils flaring at this being a challenge, the way his tongue darts out to wet his lips.

It's sort of. Cute. And you think about his reaction if you called him cute. How his anger and confusion would flare up equally. Which makes him all the cuter.

You giggle at your thoughts, body shaking and completely throwing Gun off-

His other hand shoots up to grip your jaw.

"Stop fucking moving."

...So much for being cute.

You arch a brow at his tone, his attitude. It's not your fault he has found something he's bad at.

Gun swallows down his scowl and his irritation. If this was anyone else.. But it's not. It's you.

"Please." he grits out, short and clipped. Pressing a quick kiss to your lips as a truce.

Seriously. Why the hell is he doing this? Why is he spending a Saturday afternoon doing your goddamn makeup instead of literally anything else? Instead of doing you.

Clarity hitting him and realising the absurdity of this, Gun nearly downs his tools-

Shit.

The eyeliner. It's wildly uneven. This will never do. With a sigh, he continues on with his handiwork.

.

.

Goo Kim x Reader

A perk of being with Goo Kim should be being able to pick through his words.

Understanding that there is very little you can take at face value, even where you are concerned.

Having applied your makeup, spending far longer than you usually would, you turn to your boyfriend, expecting some flattery.

Either way, you think how you look doesn't actually matter. Goo probably can't even tell.

But surely it's a girlfriend privilege to expect some flowery words. Most partners would just tell you that you look nice and call it a day.

It takes a couple attempts to even catch his attention, phone glued to his hand and tapping away at some gacha game no doubt.

At the third go of you clearing your throat loudly, he peers over the top. Disinterested and annoyed to have had his focus taken away.

You point at your face, obviously fishing for a compliment. Something to appease you for the extra time and effort.

And honestly? You think you look pretty damn good.

"What?" Goo's eyes return back to his screen after scrutinising you for a split second, "You look the same."

Just as your own annoyance bubbles-

"Beautiful as always."

Oh.

That bastard.

Goo, knowing his words have hit the target, throws you a quick wink and finger guns before resuming his game.

Sure you can't take his words at face value, but with you, they always hold at least a grain of truth.

#what was that about gun park being my grumpy soft blorbo and not a mass murderer #lookism #lookism webtoon #lookism manhwa #lookism fic #lookism x reader #gun park #gun park x reader #goo kim #goo kim x reader #wannaeatramyeon

[msperfect777]

big sister talks : chapter 1

1. being attached to someone means you lack self worth, self love, self value

have you ever liked someone or have been around someone who is hot and cold? one day they are nice and the next they treat you like trash? when theyre in a bad mood, it effects your mood too? it seems like however they feel, reflects your day? what about when they treat you bad and you notice it but you think about all their good qualities as an excuse to stick with them. you then get attached to them and try to find ways to make them feel better. seems to me you care more about how they feel than how you feel…

dont EVER disrespect yourself like that again. the moment someone shuts you down, you dip. do not chase, do not hold this person on a leash close to you. how dare you carry such low standards for yourself. you think bc this person is cute or nice sometimes or shows you the attention you crave that you have to make them change for you. no. you change. theres no way that you are so low that you allow and stick next to someone that disrespects you even the slightest. grow tf up and treat urself how you want to be treated. stand tf up and allow yourself to notice how amazing you are without this hot and cold person.

the reason you stick with them and try to change them is bc you think bc thats the first person who was ever nice to you, that you have to stay w them. hell no. the issue is that you have this person on a pedestal while you have yourself on the floor, looking up at the pedestal. BITCH U ARE THE PEDESTAL. stop allowing ppl to give you hot and cold attitudes bc thats embarrassing. i dont care about excuses… there is no excuse for disrespecting yourself like that.

recovery tips: you lack self worth and self love and you look at this person for a source of love and attention even when they treat u like shit. ive been there and it was hell. detach urself from this person immediately. they serve you nothing but shame. realize this is only happening bc thats what you allowed yourself to accept. you are not as low as you think. raise your standards and treat yourself with respect and show to others that thats how you will allow yourself to be treated: with respect and only that.

it will feel so bad at first when you detach from this person that you think you love but you will get used to it and you feel 20x better bc it makes u focus on yourself and only you. instead of wasting your time loving someone who doesnt love you the same way, you now will spend time loving someone who will treat you perfectly: aka yourself. dont get it twisted.

2. never go back to the ppl you left

nothing is more embarrassing then forgetting someone and after they give you one ounce of attention like one text message or something, you start thinking about allowing them back into your life…

YOU DONT NEED ANYONE. you think you do which is clearly false. how you gonna create space away from someone who treated you bad and then start sucking on them after they come back to you.

recovery tips: from now on, see yourself on top of the pedestal while others are looking up at you on the ground. not the other way around. treat yourself like royalty. dont ever chase someone youve worked so hard to stay away from. dont send no “hey” text or a smile in the hallway. dont tolerate no type of disrespect and never go back to those ways no matter what. remind yourself who the fuck you are. the motha fucking boss thats what.

i dont care if this person is your mother or a ex lover. no one should be treating you like trash and you should not suck up to them after they rush back into your arms. clearly they need you. u dont need them and you never did. remember that bitch.

3. never take other ppls words as final

someone insulted you and now their words are stuck in your head and youre hating urself for it. you see the insult as “final” or as the truth about you even though its not. im confused… are you here to please others and worry about the bullshit insecurities ppl project on you? or are you here to learn to love yourself and focus on urself and only urself?

ppl only talk shit for one or more of these 4 reasons:

they are jealous of you: there is something you have that they wish they had. this could be your ability to not give a fuck about what others think, or it could be the way you always get high marks at school, or the way you carry yourself, or the new shoes you bought the other day. im telling you right now, there will always be someone jealous of something you have even when u think u arent the type of person to make others jealous. grow the fuck up and realize you are not as low as you assume.

they are insecure in themselves and talking shit is only way they can feel better about themselves: there is literally nothing wrong with you, ppl just feel the need to be mean to others in order to cover up the fact that its them they hate, not you. most ppl also follow the crowd and are rude bc they think its “cool” or makes them feel better. why would a boss like you give a fuck about insecure losers?

when ppl go thro personal shit, its likely they are not in a good position to be nice w others but that doesnt mean u have to tolerate that. step away from ppl who treat u wrong but if its someone u care about who you know is going thro shit, support them and be there for them. make sure you are acknowledging the way they are treating you is wrong and make sure to let then know that you will be there for them, even if that means giving them space.

they have a crush on you… i know from personal experience that when someone has a crush on someone else and they dont want you to know, they will bully you and be rude so that you cant suspect anything. dont take rudeness seriously.

so when ppl talk shit, it most likely has nothing to do with you. dont take ppls insults seriously and as a final representation of yourself. im telling you no one goes to bed thinking about the insults they give you so why tf would u care? im being serious when i say no one cares about anyone to the point where they spend 24 hours insulting you and thinking bad about you. if they do, then thats an unhealthy obsession… yikes.. well it sounds like a them problem not a you problem.

recovery tips: let yourself remember that you are you. you are not going to grow up caring about ppls useless words or else you are a clown. dont be a clown and remind urself that you are the best person you know.

i notice that ppl can give you 100 compliments and one insult but you will focus and worry about that one insult. this is the ego’s desire for people pleasing and validation. stop and give yourself your own validation bc you get to decide how much you love yourself. treat yourself like you would treat a partner, a lover, a crush. take yourselves out on dates. do whatever you want to make yourself feel wanted bc waiting for others to do it is just wasting ur time when you can just do it yourself.

…

my experience: i used to be the type of person who would suck up to ppl that treated me wrong bc i wanted their attention and validation. i think back on it now and realize i was just a little girl who needed love and i wonder how i didnt realize that the only person i needed love from was me and only me. its so much fun loving myself and not having to depend on others to do it and its so easy to get rid of ppl and let them go after they disrespect me. every time i think about it i feel so powerful. bc i dont allow any type of insults or rudeness to break me down. i deadass dont care who the person is or how close i am with them.. the second they treat me like trash, i will gladly leave. focus on building yourself up instead of being the one that allows you do be teared down.

© msperfect777

#self love #self care #self worth #self improvement #self healing

[justmeinadaze]

Miss (Part of I'm In Control) Steddie X You)

A/N: 😈

Warnings: Daddy Steve and Sir Eddie (with a spin this time), Pure smut <3

Word Count: 2353

“You’re such a whiner, you know that?”, Eddie chuckled as they used their key to open your front door. “We’re bringing over EMPTY boxes. You act like they are full already.”

“Ok, but why am I carrying everything?”, Steve complained as he set everything to the side. 

Sound caught their attention as they glanced at each other. “She’s not here, right?”

“I don’t think so. She said she would be working late.”

They quietly headed down the hallway, stopping just outside of your bedroom door, their mouths falling open at the sight before them. 

While they were at work, you went into to town to a specific store that caters to women who are more on the dominant side of the spectrum. You told them what you wanted to do and they were extremely patient as they helped you find something the guys would love. 

You remembered how that leather dress you had worn to Trisha Jameson’s party drove them wild so the ladies suggested a leather teddy that clung to body in all the right place especially in the front as it hugged your breasts together. The triangles on the leather panties covered your front and behind. Mesh stockings rode up your beautiful legs with a leather band at the top to accentuate your thighs and your hair flowed down over your shoulders just the way you knew they liked. 

A handheld camera was placed at the end of bed and attached to a tripod. You were so into what you were doing that you hadn’t even heard them come in, their frames in your doorway startling you as you turned your head. 

“Shit! You guys scared the hell out of me.”, you panted as you placed your hand on your chest. 

“W-what are you doing, baby girl?”, Steve stuttered. 

You couldn’t help but blush as their eyes continued to rake over your body. “I wanted to surprise you. I thought I’d…make a movie of my own but I can’t figure out how to work this stupid thing.”, you gesture towards the device as you sigh. 

“Do you…want some help?”, Eddie asked unable to take his eyes off you. 

“I…um…okay.”

“Honey, you’re wearing that outfit. You look like a fucking queen. You answer that question with more confidence.”

“Yes, Sir. I want some help.”

“Well first things first, princess, you have to turn the camera on.”, Eddie chuckles as you sigh again in embarrassment. 

“We didn’t device in my house. I barely know how to work my phone.”

He lifts the camera from its stand and faces it towards you as Steve spins you around to show you off. “Jesus, baby, you look so sexy. Oh!” He smacks the metalheads shoulder as he runs out of your room making you laugh as the other boy shakes his head. Quickly, he reappears with two chairs, placing one behind Eddie and the other next to it before taking your hands and guiding you to sit on the edge of the bed. 

Smiling, he takes a seat and clears his throat as he crosses his legs. “Y/N, we’re glad to have you here at Steddie Studios.” Eddie rolls his eyes as you laugh harder, covering your mouth. “Have you ever worked on a film before?”

“Worked for them, yes. Have I been in front of camera before? No, Mr. Harrington, I have not.”

“What made you decide to do this today?”

“Well, I’m dating these guys, you see and I thought this would be a nice surprise for them.”, you smiled as your gaze shifted to the floor. “They tell me that sometimes I forget to value myself or know my worth and I thought this would be… a fun way to display that. Doing something I’ve never done before that kind of scares me. I did the same thing when it came to them and now, we’re about to move in together.”

Eddie’s fingers tilted your chin towards him as he leaned down to kiss your lips. Steve softly smiled in your direction as he winked. 

“What made you decide on this outfit?”

“Last time I wore something leather, I barely even made it into Trisha Jameson’s front door! I thought, maybe, you guys would like this.”

“Definitely a good choice.”, Eddie grinned down at you before taking a seat next to his friend. “What were you planning to do on this film here?”

A mischievous grin spread across your face making Steve’s head tilt to the side. “There’s actually something else about this outfit I haven’t shown you guys yet.” Leaning back on your hands, you seductively opened your legs exposing the crotchless section of the panties you were wearing. You bit your bottom lip as they both tried to contain their groans. 

You saw it almost immediately, that submissive look they had come to know within your eyes flashed through their own. This was new for you as well and you couldn’t hide your own moan at the sight. You loved having them take control of you but something about this kind of power was slightly euphoric. Were they even aware of what headspace they were in right now?

“Daddy? Sir? Did I break you two?”

“Huh? No, no, little one. We’re…we’re still with you.”, Steve answered in a strained voice. 

You reached between your legs, gliding your fingers through your folds. “It’s so odd. I don’t feel like a little miss right now. What did you call me earlier, Daddy? A queen?”

“Yes, baby. A queen. Our queen.” Gathering your slick, you began pressing circles into your clit. “Does…does that feel good?” You nod your head, your eyes never leaving his as he slowly slid down to his knees and started crawling to you. “Do you want some help?”

As soon as he was within range, your leg shot out to press your foot against his chest. “Daddy…I don’t remember telling you to leave your chair.”

Your eyes flicked to Eddie’s as you heard his breathing pick up. He still had the camera trained on you both but his free hand came down to adjust the growing bulge in his jeans. Watching them both struggle with that strong need to make you feel good and you knowing you were in control of that pleasure had you clenching around nothing. 

Even though they seemed to be ok currently in this particular mind set, you didn’t want to push them too hard or overstep your bounds. That first night you three were together, they checked on you every step of the way and made sure you were comfortable. You wanted to be able to do the same. 

With a tender smile, you dropped your foot to the floor and beckoned him to you. His chest nestled between your thighs as you offered him your fingers that were still coated with you. Steve hungerly sucked on them as your legs pulled him closer. 

You tugged at his shirt and he gladly tore it off, tossing it to the floor. His eyes met yours and you nodded in approval as his fingers dug into your hips and his face fell into your cunt. 

“Fuck, Daddy.” Your hands tangled in his hair as you held him to you. When Steve was turned on and amped up, he was extremely hard to control and in this instance you really didn’t care. His tongue was overwhelming you in the best possible as he devoured you like you were his last meal. 

“Sir, please…I need you.”

“You need me, sweetheart?” You nodded aggressively feeling yourself heading for that ledge as Eddie hastily rises to his feet and attaches the camera back to the tripod, making sure it was where it should be before practically jumping over Steve to get to you. “What do you need, baby? Tell me. Fuck, I’ll give you anything.”

You reach for his shirt, tugging his lips to yours as your eyes squeeze shut and you come hard on the others boy’s mouth. Your body shivers but he doesn’t release you, instead tightening his grip on your hips as he thrusts his tongue in and out of your entrance. 

“Off. Eddie…Off.” Is all you manage to get out as you pull at his jeans. He pushes them and his boxers down, kicking them to the side as you bring him closer to you, grabbing his cock and bringing him to your lips. His hand abruptly flew to the back of your head as you whimpered around him. 

“Yes, f-fuck, baby. Please…” With every vibration from your moans, his grunts would echo through the room. You whined as you pulled away, continuing to stroke him with your hand as you came again. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, Daddy! Yellow…please.” You whimpered when he didn’t move and dominate Eddie almost instantly pushed through the submissive head space, pulling Steve’s hair as he tugged him away from you. 

“She said yellow. What do you do when our girl says yellow?”

“We…we…stop.”, he pants.

“That’s right. Even if she wasn’t in charge right now, we show her respect, right?

“Yes, we do. Fuck me. I’m sorry, Miss. I’m sorry. I’m sorry…”, Steve repeated as he tenderly kissed your thighs. 

“You…can keep kissing me like that. That feels nice.”

The boy below continued to kiss along your legs as Eddie sat beside you and began to suck on your neck. Your fingers delicately reached up to brush his hair away from his face.

“I want you both.” Your eyes follow Steve as he stands and slides the camera to the side of the bed where you and Eddie were sitting. “Has there ever been anything on set you wanted to try with me? Something that just felt…so good?”

They glance at each other briefly before Eddie wraps his arms around your waist, making you giggle as he lifts you towards the pillows. As he lays flat, he adjusts you so your back is to him as you straddle his sides. 

“Spit, Miss.” You can hear his smile as he holds the base of his cock in front of you. After doing what he asks, he hisses as you stroke him with your palm. A bit forcefully, he slides you lower till your flush against him and he firmly holds you steady as he guides his cock into your ass. You moan as you roll your hips, Steve climbing on his knees towards you as Eddie grips your thighs open. His thumb presses into your clit causing your eyes to roll back as he slides into your throbbing cunt. They both thrust into you and you swear you see stars. Steve pushes your legs together and leans them over one of his shoulders while Eddie’s fingers glide into your outfit to play with your tits.

The noises that leave their lips are the most beautiful sounds you had ever head. Your hands reach for the headboard as white blinds your vision and you cum, trembling against them. 

“Jesus, fuck… baby!”, Steve shouted feeling you clench around him. You mewled as you looked up to see him drop a line of spit onto your sex, rubbing it into your nub with his fingers as they both pumped into you at a much faster pace. “Cum again, Miss. Please. Mmm—I need to…I need to feel you grip my cock like that again.”

Eddie wrapped his arms around to the front of your body, pinning your own to your sides as the bed shook underneath you. They both praised you and pleaded over your moans for you to cum again until you felt the coil break again and your tears began flow as you whimpered their names. 

“Fuck, honey. That was the sexiest fucking thing…I’ve…I’m…fuck… Can I cum, baby?” You were too weak to respond so you nodded at his request. Your head fell back limply against the other man’s shoulder as you turned to kiss his cheek. 

“I’m gonna…I’m gonna cum to, princess. May…I cum?”

As you gave your permission they released ropes of their seed inside of you, warming your insides at the same time. You whined as Steve lowered your legs and carefully pulled out of you, hastily heading to turn off the camera. Eddie rolled gradually on to his side while holding you, gripping your hips as he pulled his cock out as well. 

“Baby? Look at me. Are you okay?”, he whispers. 

“Tired.”

He chuckles as his hand roams your body, trying to find a way to get you out of your leather-bound ensemble. 

“Side.”, you mumble as you lift your arm. 

As he begins disrobing you, Steve returns from your kitchen with a rag and some water. “I assumed she wouldn’t want to take a shower.”

“I wish she would. The leather is sexy but, Y/N, your body is covered in sweat.”

You roll on your back as you light-heartedly squint your eyes. “Mr. Munson, are you telling me I’m gross?”

“Noooo…”, he cackles. “I’m telling you; you need to cool down.”

“Can-can we do the rag now and shower in a bit? My body is worn out and Steve hurt my hips!”, you pout. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, little one.”, his gentle eyes quickly glance over your skin. “Yeah, I got lost in you, baby. I wasn’t thinking.” His lips traced the red marks along your waist as he began to clean you. 

As soon as he finished you rolled onto your side, curling up into Eddie’s chest. “That was an interesting experience. Did…did I do good?”

The metalhead smiled at your little girl tone as he wrapped his arms around you and brought you closer to him. “Yeah, sweetheart. You did really good.”

“Did…you…feel…” Your voice began to trail off as your eyes got heavier. Steve jumped in behind you and you felt his finger move your damp hair away from your face. 

“Did we feel what?”

“Comfortable? I tried…not to…overwhelm…”

“No, Miss.”, he whispers. “We definitely felt comfortable. I think this is the best film we’ve done yet.”

“And no one gets to see it but us.”, Eddie followed before placing a tender kiss on your forehead. 

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