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auggieblogs · 7 months

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heartbreak girl | MV1 (pt.1)

part II

Summary: "I've loved you since we were kids, y/n, ever since I saw you at your 4th birthday party. I told my ma I was going to marry you someday."

Pairings: Max Verstappen x fem!reader

Warnings: language, mention of alcohol (and throwing up because of it)

Author's note: Heyyyy, hiii, lovelies. I hope you all are doing good!!! This fic is heavily inspired by "heartbreak girl" by 5sos, thank you to @navia3000 for requesting this (and thank you for LITERALLY breaking down the song for me😭🫶🏻). I know it's not completely based off the song but I tried my best. Anyways, happy reading, everyone<3

P.S.- This is definitely not my best work but I tried okay??? I really hope y'all like it and hopefully there will be a part 2.

―୨୧⋆ ˚masterlist

One thing you should know about Max Verstappen is that he harboured an intense loathing for one person in the world: Connor Smith, your now-ex-boyfriend. Max despised Connor with every fibre of his being. Connor was, in Max's eyes, a complete fuckwit, a lousy boyfriend who had repeatedly let you down. He never made time for you, often left your texts unanswered for hours, and failed to treat you the way you deserved. To make matters worse, he disrespected you, and that ignited something in Max, a desire to punch Connor's face every time he laid eyes on him, perhaps?

On the other side of the emotional spectrum, Max was head over heels in love with you. He was a silent, lovesick puppy, adoring everything about you – your infectious smile, your contagious laughter, your passion for music, and all those little quirks that made you uniquely you. Yet, despite these profound feelings, Max was too much of a pussy to confess any of this to you. His fear held him back, and it was the reason he watched you date Connor, even when he knew you deserved so much better.

But life has a way of unravelling complicated emotions. Connor eventually broke your heart. The pain was excruciating, the emotions raw and overwhelming.

Devastated, you found yourself in a mess, sprawled on your bathroom floor with a bottle of vodka in your trembling hand. Your face was flushed, your eyes bloodshot, and you felt like your world had collapsed.

Max's heart shattered into pieces as he saw you in such a fragile state. Without hesitation, he sank to the floor beside you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close to his chest. You cried uncontrollably, sobs wracking your body, and your breathing was ragged. Max's heart ached as he cradled your head, whispering soothing words to calm you.

Eventually, when your sobs ebbed to quiet sniffles, you looked up at Max. His face was etched with concern, but you hated that. You didn't want to be a burden to him. "He left" you whispered, tears welling up in your eyes once more.

"I figured," Max replied softly.

"I'm not the type of person who cries over a boy," you said, tears pricking your eyes again.

Max gently brushed away your tears, his touch comforting. "No, you're not," he said, still holding you close. You felt like throwing up, physically ill from the pain of your breakup. You had loved Connor, despite his flaws, and he had occasionally made you feel loved which only made you feel more confused and lost.

Unable to hold back any longer, you threw up, and Max was right there to help. He rubbed your back and held your hair, comforting you as a best friend would.

"Okay, shh, that's it," he said gently as you emptied your stomach. Afterward, he helped you off the floor, guided you to the sink, helped you brush your teeth, and washed your face. Max even braided your hair and performed your skincare routine for you.

Going to your wardrobe, he selected the comfiest pair of pyjamas and helped you change into them. Max knew he couldn't take away your pain, but he was determined to provide you with some distraction. After cleaning up, the two of you settled in to watch a movie in your bedroom. Max sat on the floor, close to the TV, and you were cozily nestled in bed.

Max still hadn't asked you about Connor because he knew you well enough to know that you would eventually talk about it. And you did.

Hours passed, and you finally mustered the strength to crawl over to Max and rest your head on his thighs. He looked down at you, a warm smile on his face.

"I'm really sorry," you said, your voice still trembling.

"For what?" he asked, genuinely puzzled by your apology.

"For being such a mess," you admitted, tears glistening in your eyes. "I know you had better things to do today. You shouldn't have to take care of me."

Max leaned down, brushing a gentle kiss against your forehead. "I want to take care of you," he said softly. "You needed me, and I'll always be here for you. You'd do the same for me."

A brief smile graced your lips, but it quickly faded as you voiced your deepest insecurity, "Do you think the reason he left me is because I'm not pretty enough?"

Max's heart clenched at your words, the overwhelming urge to kiss you and hold your face in his hands almost unbearable. But he knew this wasn't the right time, not when you were so emotionally vulnerable. He had to be strong for you.

"He left because he's an idiot, and he doesn't deserve you, y/n," Max said, his tone firm and unwavering. "Looks have nothing to do with it. You're beautiful, inside and out."

Tears welled in your eyes as his words washed over you. "He's the only one who's ever loved me. I've never had a boy like me, Max."

Max's heart ached for you, and for a moment, he allowed himself to stroke your hair gently. "You've always been loved," he whispered, his voice carrying the weight of years of unspoken emotion. "I've loved you since we were kids, y/n, ever since I saw you at your 4th birthday party. I told my ma I was going to marry you someday."

Max's confession hung in the air, a palpable tension that enveloped both of you. Your heart pounded in your chest as you stared into his eyes, the weight of his words sinking in. The room seemed to close in around you, and the tears welled up in your eyes as you whispered, "Max..."

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flamingo-writes · 10 months

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A/N: i am back from the dead after months. And it should’ve come as a surprise that I absolutely loved Hobie. Looks like a rockstar and is an absolute punk. My type in a nutshell.

I’m gonna be using some of these headcanon for future

Gal in The Chair — Hobie Brown x Artist!Reader

I think Hobie would be the kind of guy to fall for someone who he’s known for a long while, that being said, you’d perhaps known him all of your life

Having grown together, the two of you shaped a lot of each other’s beliefs. So no wonder the two of you were so compatible.

After the spider bite, you saw the whole journey from Hobie freaking out at first, to him figuring out how to use his new abilities.

He designed his web shooters, being the genius he is with technology. You helped him with his suit, specially his mask.

You became his Gal in the Chair

You liked to fix up and personalise clothes. All of your pieces of clothings came from second hand shops and you gave them a make over doing all sorts of stuff on them to make them unique and yours.

You also did this with a lot of Hobie’s clothes. As well as teaching him how to use your sewing machine.

After graduating high school, you opened a small alternative clothing shop in with unique pieces, doing the same thing you did for your clothes on this one. As well as doing hand made jewerly like bracelets, necklaces and earrings. You also had a talent with plants, managing to almost magically bring plants back to life and reproduce them like crazy, you added selling plants into your small business.

As Spider-Man gained traction, he low key promoted your work to his followers and people who agreed with him. This in order to keep negative attention from falling on you, and keep bad guys from thinking and theorising that maybe you knew Spider-Man.

As a side gig, you educated yourself on coffee making, and learned about the different processes and types of coffee beans there were. It started as a hobby, but soon you also implemented that into your shop.

The fact that you were so versatile, made Hobie feel incredibly proud of you. You seemed to be so independent, and creative and that never ending curiosity and passion made him harvest feelings for you.

Eventually, the close friendship, and companionship grew into affectionate and romantic feelings.

Hobie was always flirty, but it wasn’t until now that you started behaving differently. Normally he played his electric guitar but now you found him playing his acoustic guitar more.

He showed you a song he wrote. And while it was unusual —however, not imposible— to hear a romantic song coming from him, it wasn’t until the first minute that you realised the song was about you.

That’s how he chose to tell you about his feelings.

He didn’t intend for it to be this romantic, he simply one day word vomited the song and used one free afternoon to add the music.

After hearing his song, it was actually you who grabbed him and kissed him.

More than satisfied with the outcome, he kissed you back, put his guitar down and pulled you over his lap.

You two became inseparable since. You already were, but now it was more evident.

You worked at home, doing all the creative things you did, selling them, helping Spider-Man with art shows and gigs.

Those who paid close attention, they were able to determine you were some sort of associate to Spider-Man. However, all of them were also punks and anarchist so of course they kept their mouths shut. Spider-Man was always looking out for those in need. They were going to help a brother back and not tell anyone whenever any authority or weird-looking threat asked if anyone knew Spider-Man, or someone close to him.

You became widely known between Spider-Man supporters, although none of them would ever dare to snitch on you.

After Hobie met Gwen, she brought her over, you two became close friends right away. Letting Gwen crash at your place more often than not. She even offered to help you with the dishes and the groceries as thanks for letting her stay.

“You’re Hobie’s friend, you’re welcome whenever you want,” You’d told her.

Pav was also a frequent visitor. He loved your coffee, he taught you how to make chai. And you had chai ready for whenever Hobie told you Pav was going to be there.

Pav also bought plants from you all the time. Most of them for his mom. He once asked you if you could make a set of earrings and a necklace for his mom.

The set was a success and Pav always told you how much she loved them,

Eventually Miles also came around. And it wasn’t until Miles met you that his suspicions of Hobie and Gwen dating dissappeared.

Miles saw the absolute pure love with which Hobie looked at you. He still made the same sarcastic and cheeky jokes while talking to you. But the way he looked at you was completely different to the way he looked at anyone else.

Hobie convinced Miles to buy a plant and some earrings for his mother.

“Listen mate, this is what my girl does for a living. Plus the world needs to learn to appreciate the handiwork of an artisan,”

Miles was even surprised at how Hobie still looked cool while being mushy and cheesy with you as he hugged you, kissed your head, or played with your hands or hair.

Hobie had zero fucks to give about what people think about him, he doesn’t give a shit about PDA. Gwen thinks it’s gross, Pav thinks it’s adorable, Miles is simply puzzled as to how he is still cool when seeing his parents doing the same thing would make him cringe so hard.

Hobie is amused by the different reactions he gets. Especially Gwen’s grossed out face.

He still loves kissing you every chance he gets. Whether if it’s kissing you passionately. A subtle peck. Sweet kissed on your cheek or your forehead.

#hobie headcanons #hobie x reader #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown #hobie brown headcanons #hobie brown fanfiction

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henneseyhoe · 4 months

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Milk Marie

Unique x BLACK!FEM!reader

WARNINGS: unprotected seggs(wrap before you tap!), dirty talk, after care, soft(ish)!Unique, pussy whipped!Unique, kinda short, das it(I think)

SUMMARY: Unique figures if he can’t get over her, he’ll get under her instead.

✮Prompt✮

✮✮✮✮

Girl, I want everything that come with you. Even if you got stretch marks and even two children. I can’t blame you, girl.

It seemed like he always ended back up here. Right here. In this bed. With this woman. Wrapped up in her sheets with his hands touching all the parts only the luckiest of men got the pleasure of even seeing. He swore they were meant to be, and she almost thought so too. He treated her so well, like the beauty she was, and she couldn’t be more grateful.

They had known each other since the sandbox, his mother always offering to watch her while her mother was at work and since that first time they met, they were connected at the hip.

No matter if they fell out and swore to stop fuckin’ with each other, they always ended right back together. No matter how many times she attempted to leave, he’d just find her again.

He hoped by the last time she left he’d be too tired of her bullshit to follow after her, but he was more resilient than he thought, and withdrawals are a muthafucka. Now he knows how the people he serves feel.

That first taste he had of her? It was like a babies first lick of sugar, addiction waiting to happen. The first time he came was like floating in outer space with no destination or desire to be anywhere else. And as ironic as it was, she looked innocent on her knees for him.

Her mouth worked its way down on him until the tip of her nose touched his stomach and her eyes began to water, her throat capturing his entire length. With no problem, she bobbed her head up and down on him, her mouth so sloppy that spit escaped from her lips and trailed down to his balls, making him shudder.

She took her hand and began spreading the spit around his heavy sack, massaging as she felt him throb in her mouth, the taste of precum already being prevalent on her tongue. He occupies his hands and digs his fingers into the couch cushions, knowing that she would stop and he’d be fucked if he reached for her freshly done silk press that was wrapped in a silk scarf, secure for those rough times.

Flashes of white appeared behind his eyes like stars as that familiar pull in the bottom of his stomach appeared once again, a warm sense of feeling covering his body as he came down her throat for the first time in months since he found out where she had been hiding. Which just ended up being her childhood home in the city over.

It took unique all but a mere few seconds to recover before he was pulling her up from her knees and into his strong hold, giving her that kiss of death before he got to doing his own damage. As he stood from the couch with no care about the jeans and belt still around his thighs, their tongues danced together in sync. Unique could taste every bit of both of them on her tongue, but he was never one to fuss about kissing after head if it was with her. He welcomed it if anything.

Tossing her body onto the bed, he takes a second to admire how the room hadn’t changed one bit since she became an adult. A doll house sat in the corner with dolls still inside, a memory of the last time she had played with them. Teddy bears that had eventually fallen off the bed when she was sat. Pink walls with brown, white, and gold for the future. A color pallet reminding him of something else in particular.

✮✮✮✮

“Nique~” She moaned sweetly, her hands gripping the sheets underneath her as the man above her pushed his hips onto her ass, his piece sinking into her ever so slowly. The stretch was always the same, the thickness of him leaving a burning sensation at her entrance the more he pushed into her, but it only stayed for a few seconds as she adjusted to his size, which was nothing average.

The thrusts were sensual and loving until he leans up off of her and pulls out just a bit further than usual, giving her the room to pull her ass up in the air and put a perfect arch in her back. She began bouncing herself back onto him, gaining speed and momentum as he meets her ass with his hips.

“Oh fuck..” He groans quietly.

His eyes were trained on the motions of her soft skin jiggling with every collide of their bodies. His thrusts only got harder from there, segments of moans falling from the girls lips. He didn’t even have to tell her how wet she was, the squelching sounds erupting from where they connected told her all she needed to know.

Switching the angle of his thrusts, he places one knee onto the bed and leans into her, his hands placed in the middle of her back just to make sure she wouldn’t be able to run from the lethal position. And running, she did not do, couldn’t do because of how he was holding her. Suddenly the bed dipped under them both with the strong force of his thrust making her collapse on her stomach, leaving the girl breathless after calling out to the highest one she worshipped.

“You feel that, baby? I’m in it?” He asks with his breathing unsteady, his balls tightening and her toes curling.

“Yes, Nique!”

She was in shambles trying to keep up with him. She could feel the tip of his dick pressing against her g spot, constantly slamming into it like a button, like he’d get some kind of prize if he pushed it correctly. He fucked her so hard, sweet compliments being the only things that contradicted the rough strokes. She could hear the belt buckle of his pants jingling around his ankles, remembering that they had barely been undressed fully before Unique got impatient and just shoved his pants down and her nightgown up before pushing her to her knees.

As Unique continued on with damn near breaking this girls childhood bed, he thought to himself. This was the pussy that niggas killed for. The type pussy that’d have you bussing back to back without a second thought about a condom. This was the pussy he thought about on those lonely nights when she was mad at him, when he had to take matters into his own hands and desperately jerk himself off, his mouth agape and muscles flexing as he cums all over his stomach to the beautiful thought that was her.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” She whimpers. At this point she could feel him poking at her stomach and being pressed against the mattress helped nothing. He would probably fuck her through the cushion if he could.

“Uh-huh. Cum on this dick, Princess. Lemme feel you wet this dick up, show me how good I make this pussy feel” He spoke, punching nothing but a thick 9 inch pole into her spine. The man gave her no choice but to scream and give him exactly what he wanted, which was her release.

✮✮✮✮

Between her thighs were messy and wet, coated with a layer of white cream that was from both of them. Unique gently wiped her down with a wet towel, careful not to swipe over her sensitive clit too fast or harsh.

“Shhh—“ She hissed, her thighs almost closing in on his hand. Unique’s eyes flickered from her core up to her expression. “My bad” He simply apologized before tossing away the dirty rag in a hamper next to the bed. Laying next to her on his back, he sighs. “you gon’ learn to stop running from what you love”

She smiles, turning her head to look at the side of his face, getting a view of that nearly perfect profile. “Who says I love you, Unique?”

He smirks. “I don’t need a second opinion on a fact”

And the cycle continues…

✮✮✮✮

Woke up and remembered I forgot the taglist chile! LMFAO(some tags aren’t showing up, dk why!)

🏷️ @thatone-girly @notapradagurl7 @swavydadon @miyahmaraj @planetblaque @msinterlude @milkiboo @bloodripleygal @stevelacyballs @naj-ay444 @blackelysian @shaolyninferno

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meanbossart · 3 months

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i just need to take a second to gush about how much i love durge drow and astarion, they feel so fleshed out and perfectly written together in their fucked up wretched ways. They really inspire me to write more for my own tavs, hopefully one day ill be able to say im as happy with my own work as i get when seeing yours. I have to ask though, do you have any tips on drawing head shapes and faces? or maybe about wrinkles? i find i really struggle with that stuff when drawing and i adore how expressive and grungey all your art looks!

First of all thank you so much, I love hearing what people think of the two of them together 😭

Honestly you've hit on something that's quite near and dear to my heart, I love developing and figuring how to draw and stylize different faces to get the most unique, interesting looking results - everything about the details is highly rewarding to me. What does x type of nose look like from this angle? In this style? How can this eyeshape best translate to my art? How different does a face look when its making this expression? What does that MOUTH DO? etc etc.

In fact you kind of inspired me to put a little tutorial/guide together the last hour lmao and what a blessing it is that the two current subjects of this blog serve as great models here, being that their faces are basically polar opposites!

When it comes to heads, you've probably heard it a dozen times before that you want to think of them in terms of geometry and facets; my process to drawing them is pretty conventional so I won't spend too much time on it, but it goes something like this:

Obviously I don't do every single one of these steps most of the time, which is just something that comes from practice/developing muscle memory, but it is helpful to start off this way for two main reasons:

By making these guide lines and splitting a head into pieces like this, you'll have an easier time seeing and understanding it as a multidimensional object, and in turn, facilitate It for you when you venture out into doing wacky angles and lighting.

Making different headshapes starts HERE. notice how Astarion's "face" slate is narrower and longer, how my durge's jaw pieces sit lower on the head, how all of the same pieces came together in the same way but we ended up with one real pointy elf and a real brick of a drow - making characters look different successfully begins very early in the sketching process.

The next thing you want to do branches out into every day life: start noticing yours and other people's facial features. How does an upturned nose look from a high angle? How does the size of someone's cheekbones affect what they look like when they smile? How about when the light hits them a certain way? Does someone's lip shape changes when they pout? When they laugh? How does a person's hairline change the shape of their face? You do NOT need to creepily sketch every stranger you see on the bus, but get into the habit of actually noticing what people look like when you talk to them - when you look at pictures, when you watch movies - make a mental list of interesting ways mouths, noses, and eyes can come together in a variety of different proportions to make completely distinct looking mugs, and how they change depending on how you are looking at them.

Light and shadow play a HUGE role in how faces look, too, basically as crucial as actual bone structure does. As you see up there I tried to rough out how natural, head on, and underhead light would look on these two very different looking guys, and while we can see definite patterns, there are small differences that come to be because of the sizes and shapes of their features.

Here is a very, very basic look at how some of these features come to look the way they do, how they interact with one another, and how they compare between a blocky, rather conventionally "masculine" head and one that's much softer and slimmer.

Note please that it is not one or two characteristics that give a chaarcter their "look"; you can reduce a face to eyes, mouth, and nose through stylization and still have them be recognizable, but if you want to do more than that, you have to consider the whole package! Chin, cheeks, brows, direction of the jaw, slope and size of the forehead, depth of eyes, ridge of the nose, etc - I know this is probably far more than you bargained for, but if you start making note of a FEW of these things now and slowly add on, this will eventually become second nature to you.

Similarly, understanding how these characteristics come together will help you with rendering light and shadow in a realistic way, and predicting what their facial expressions may look like - if no two people are alike, neither are their smiles. :)

Lastly, remember that I'm no expert - I have developed my own methods and semiotics and yours may look slightly (or vastly) different, and that's fine! I hope only that by sharing this it has given you a base to work off of.

Anyways, I HOPE this has been helpful and not just the unsolicited ramblings of a face pervert.

#ask #art #advice #tutorial #astarion #DU drow

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fraugwinska · 5 days

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What about the reader found and old radio, they thought the radio was broken but it's not, it's just antique.. when they play it at night time alastor broadcast was heard first they feel something is odd.. but they love to listen to his voice, heck they even like talking to each other, because of this encounter alastor talk about it to rosie, she was happy hearing alastor telling her stories but she feel odd when alastor mention that the person he talks to is a human, Rosie giving him advice to not fall for human because they're different species, and it will make him weak etc.

Alastor feel guilty and agree with rosie advice so he's stop contacting the reader from the radio, he thinks that the reader will be fine but no the reader take it personally.. they thought alastor don't want to talk to them anymore.. it drive them mad and lead to suicide..

So yeah angst :D

Oh Anon. What have you done.

I cried while I wrote that - it took two very good friends of mine to encourage me to post it (Thanks to @macabr3-barbi3 and @mysterypotatoink). But I think it's tragic and beautiful, and honestly - I'm kinda proud of it!

TW: Psychological Trauma, descend into madness, loss of self care and suicide - please take care of yourself and do not read if you aren't comfortable with any of the mentioned! MINORS DNI

Here we go.

❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️

Leap of Faith

You carried in the last box from you banged-up minivan. The old thing barely made it to your new home. A little cabin in the outskirts of New Orleans, a little off the grid and surrounded by the peaceful and whirring bayous of Louisiana.

A fixer-upper, just like yourself.

The online auction had intrigued you the second you found it, the photos were a bit blurry and you knew it was a risk to buy a place you've never set foot in, but something in you called you to get it. The price you paid was laughable, barely making a dent in your savings. Moving states sounded scary and impossible, but you felt oddly calm about it.

You didn't have a lot of stuff to move anyway. After all, you only lived with your late grandmother, and she never really cared for material things. Your parents left you at her doorstep, never to be seen again.

Caring for her in her last, sickness-ridden years had been a no-brainer - it felt like nothing in comparison to all she had done for you - but it also had been a bit lonely.

You had your friends, if you could even call them that, but you rarely saw them - guiding your nan through the last months of her life had been demanding and time-consuming. It had left you exhausted and emotionally unavailable, and after a while, calls and texts ceased, until it was just you and her. You felt lost, as if the world was slowly pulling away from you.

When she finally died, peacefully in her sleep, you felt sad, relieved and drained.

Detached from the city you lived in.

Lost.

So you decided to sell what little you inherited, except for a few sentimental mementos, and move away from it all. To start a new life, a happier one, finally one that was truly your own.

You took the final box inside, setting it on the coffee table and wiped the sweat from your brow. You looked around the little cabin: The roof had some spots that needed a patch, and the wood floors were a bit warped, but it was all yours. No more having to share anything with anyone.

The cabin came furnished, a lot of the stuff was old, but still usable. You figured that would change once you settled in and had a vision of what you wanted and needed to buy. The thought of thinking about no one but yourself made you nervous.

But a little excited, too.

The old furniture would do for the moment, but there was a particular piece that caught your eye: an old, vintage cathedral radio, sitting nestled in between a cracked wooden box and a tarnished, bronze candle holder in a bookcase that was a bit out of place in the tiny space. With a tilted head, you stepped closer to inspect it, drawn to it by it's unique character and beauty.

It looked as well-loved as it looked well-used, the mahogany a bit scuffed, the knobs a little worn from years of being turned. But there were golden details etched into the front, and you traced them lightly with a finger, strangely touched and intrigued.

You were certain the old thing didn't work, but when you plugged it into the nearby socket, static erupted from the speakers, making you jump back. You had to smile, though.

Tonight, you wouldn't be alone. You'd have this little device and a little music for good company.

***

"I'm home!" you announced to no one in particular, as you closed the door behind you, your hands full with overfilled grocery bags full of necessities, waiting to fill your empty cabinets.

The day had been hot, but a welcome breeze of the impending night break cooled the inside of your little cabin a bit. With a quiet grunt you set the paper bags down at the small kitchenette. Your groceries were quickly dispersed, and you put on an apron you saved from your grandmother as you got started on dinner.

You hummed as you cut vegetables and boiled water. It had been a long time since you had cooked, really cooked, your nan wasn't much for eating and had no problem living off of simple soups and toast. When you opened your fridge to get some butter, your glance fell onto the radio.

A little music would be nice, you decided, and you walked over, cleaning your hands on the red, frilly cloth around your waist before you turned the dial. The soft sound of static made you hum in contempt - yup. Still works. A little turn to the left, and the room was filled with a soft jazzy tune, the melody a bit grainy, but you didn't mind that at all. You returned to the stove, swaying your hips to the beat as you worked. The music made you feel at ease, and for a moment, the world seemed to be just right.

Just as the onions began to brown in the pan, the song faded out to a voice. You turned your head to the radio, intrigued by the unusual, eccentric accent of the host. It reminded you of the old, vintage films and recordings your grandmother had been fond of - wasn't it called 'transatlantic'?. Whatever it was, it made you smile.

"Now wasn't that a kick in the head, dearest listener? I sure hope you enjoyed the little musical interlude, but it's time to return to the real show! As usual, my name is Alastor, and you are listening to the best jazz, blues and swing music that Hell has to offer!"

You blinked, a little puzzled and yet amused. "Sure is hot as hell today, strange man in the radio.", you mumbled, chuckling as you stirred the bell peppers under the caramelized onions.

"Today we have a very special guest joining my humble broadcast, it seems. Pleasure to meet you, darling, quite the pleasure!"

"Oh who? Me?" you asked, looking theatrically over your shoulder with batted lashes, shaking your head over your own silliness. You weren't used to talking out loud to yourself, or even really thinking out loud. You were always alone, after all, but the little pretend-play was fun. You laughed a bit, waiting for the host's guest to speak.

"Of course you, little dove. Who else would I mean?"

You gasped, and nearly dropped the spoon as you whipped around, eyes glued to the humming, orange glow of the radio in the dim darkness of your living room.

"What's that? You're surprised, my dear? Don't worry, you're not the only one! This is a first for me, too. Never had a human join my program. I must say, I'm quite intrigued! Tell me, what is your name?"

Your eyes grew wide, and the hairs at the back of your neck stood up. You took a hesitant step backwards and hit the hot stove, making you curse under your breath. Was the heat finally getting to you?

"Don't be shy now, darling. I'm not gonna hurt you, cross my lil' old, blackened heart."

"I-I'm..." you began, swallowing as your fingers tightened around the wooden spoon. "My name is..."

"Yes?"

"I'm... crazy.", you mumbled, rubbing a hand over your face and chuckling a bit. You were just going insane, that's all. Must be the stress, combined with the intense heat. And lack of a companion, a tiny voice reminded you. Yes. Must be.

"Hello crazy, this is Alastor." The host laughed, together with a canned audience.

"Alastor...", you repeated, realization settling in - this wasn't a joke, or a trick of your mind.

"At your service, my dear.", the voice cooed. "Now, I believe you still owe me your name..."

***

You weren't crazy.

Or if you were, you didn't mind. Not with Alastor by your side - or, to be exact, in the radio on your bookcase.

After two weeks of ignoring the cursed radio after unplugging it in a wave of panic on your first night, your morbid curiosity got the better of you. You plugged it back in, and turned on the dial. Just once, you told yourself, then never ever again.

And that's how the two of you got in contact with each other once more. Alastor was as chipper as the first time you heard him, and after a bit of back-and-forth, he promised once again not to harm you, and you shared your name with him. The rest was history. He was very pleasant company. For a demon from hell.

You wouldn't classify the conversations you had with him as a real friendship in the beginning, but you did talk. Occasionally. Mostly in the evenings, when you cooked dinner: He'd ask you about your day and would pry eagerly for a little bit of gossip or new information about the modern New Orleans. When he let it slip that he lived in this very cabin in the 1920's, you weren't stopping with questions about what it was like back in his days, which he, in return, answered generously and enthusiastically.

The first few times he would try to coerce you into making a deal for your soul, casually sprinkling the offer into his small talk, but with enough blunt refusals and a few more days of radio silence (pun intended), he dropped the topic and seemed content on just talking. You, in return, found yourself relaxing into his charming company, your brain happily engaged with trying to wrap your head around him, or better, you tried to come to terms with it.

Weeks passed, and turning the radio on in the evenings became less of an occasional lapse of judgment but more of a routine you were looking forward to. You could tell the Alastor felt the same, his banter became less tense and acted, and a little more genuine.

It made your heart swell in happiness, that someone out there seemed to appreciate your company – even if that someone wasn't human.

Apprehension became amusement, and fascination became friendship. Oddly enough, you found common grounds in a lot of things: A love for cooking and good music. Preferring books over films. Red wine over white. A shared aversion of vulgarity, and appreciation for good manners.

Your nights were cut shorter and shorter, you would spend hours chatting on and on, until the deep darkness of night disappeared into a shade of blue on the horizon. Neither of you minded, at least that was what you thought. Alastor never ended the conversations with you. Either you had to say your goodbyes, or you would just fall asleep after hours of talking on your couch, and awake with a pained back to a shut-off radio. Then, after you'd realize that you would have a whole day ahead of you without hearing his voice, the loss would make your chest ache.

Two months into the 'thing', which was still a strange concept you could barely comprehend, the truth of the matter dawned on you: You liked him. Not just because he was a surprisingly amicable voice coming out of your vintage radio, a lively constant in the uneventful life you had made for yourself in Louisiana - he had become important to you, irreplaceable, even. An essential element to your life. You couldn't imagine how you'd gone so long without him, and yet, here you were, lost without him, scrambling through the hours until you could talk to him once more.

"Something on your mind, darling? You're awfully quiet today."

You held your fork and knife still above the salmon you had just been about to eat. It was the first meal of the evening in a long time where you weren't spending the entirety of the preparation time speaking to him, lost in thought about your blossoming feelings. He had gotten excellent at reading you like an open book - you should've gotten used to it after a couple of weeks of him catching on to every little change in your demeanor and knowing just what to say, when you were feeling happy, upset or nervous.

"Oh, um... no. It's nothing Al. Work had me in a wringer today."

"Is it your co-worker Susan again?" You could basically hear his eyes rolling, making you chuckle. "That name must be cursed, every single soul with that name is a menacing pain."

"Maybe,", you muttered, nibbling on a piece of the roasted fish. "This one is mostly just an ornery old bitch."

"Taking the words right out of my mouth, dear." he laughed.

There's was a comfortable pause, with just a gentle background noise of his ever-playing static and an easy, melodic tune coming from his program.

"Is that really all that preoccupies that pretty little head of yours?"

You blushed, picking at the food with your fork. "Bold for a guy who's never seen me to assume my head is pretty."

The radio crackled with pops and feedback. "Bold to assume I can't see you whenever I want, little dove." he said, his voice strangely deeper, tinged with something you didn't catch at the shock of his words.

"You... what?"

"And I can most assure you,", he purred out of the speakers, "pretty is a well fitting word to describe you."

He hummed in approval when your cheeks gained color, as if he knew his comment threw you off guard and made you turn a lovely shade of pink, but it didn't make it any less enticing.

***

"Alastor, if I didn't know better, I would say you have become smitten with this mysterious gal you're blabbing on and about."

Rosie giggled, hitting his shoulder in a playful, friendly swipe. "When will I meet her? Come on now, you can't hide her forever. Or are you afraid she'll like me better?"

She laughed, and Alastor forced a toothy grin. His long time friend was the only one he talked about you with, and he knew she was intrigued whenever she could smell a blooming dalliance, especially with a notoriously abstinent bachelor like himself. Normally, he would laugh at that thought with a healthy dose of mockery, but he found himself to be less and less aversed at the thought - if it would be you. Impossible, of course.

"Nonsense, Rosie dear, nonsense,", he chuckled, taking a large sip from his coffee cup, a heavy hand bringing up a plate stacked with finger sandwiches. "And I'm afraid you won't meet her for a long time, maybe never. Humans seldom traverse to hell in their lifetime, and who knows if the little darling will take on the trip downstairs?"

Rosie coughed in her tea, her blackened eyes wide in shock. "Human? It's a human girl you've been courting here? Oh, Alastor, you old fool."

Alastor scrunched his nose, "Talking, Rosie, talking is all we do. And yes, she's a human. I don't see the quandary in that. It's just a little fun."

"Well,", she huffed with a small, thoughtful frown. "I would've hoped for a little more sense in you." The tall demonesse set down her teacup with nimble fingers.

"You may not call it courting, but if it quacks like a duck, it's a duck, love." Rosie ignored the indignant look Alastor gave her. "You know as well as I do that such a connection is dangerous to entertain. Humans are fragile and fragile things tend to break. And when they do, the owner mostly follows. You need to break this connection off."

Rosie gave him a sad look as his ears flattened against his head. She would've been more than happy for her oldest and dearest friend to have a partner on his side, someone good and honest who really cared about him, maybe loved him even, as unlovable as he was. But she had to protect him from the silly idea of possibly falling for a living, breathing and supposedly untarnished soul, and the heartbreak that would surely follow. "Don't make the mistake of breaking your heart, dear friend." she smiled, a tint of melancholy hidden in the red of her lips.

"I think it's far too late for that."

She offered a handkerchief, but Alastor waved her off, his smile more faint and close to a frown than she's ever seen.

***

The first day where nothing but static noise came out of the radio, you were irritated but just thought: 'Maybe Alastor has something to do'.

The second day of static you grew concerned. 'What if something happened to Alastor? Was he okay?'.

On the third day, you were panicked. 'Maybe he doesn't want to talk to you anymore! Maybe he met someone in hell, someone that he could talk to whenever he wanted and not through an old, dusty radio?'.

"Please talk to me.", you whispered into the empty room. Your knees were pulled to your chest, and you sat on your couch, eyes fixed on the radio in the bookcase. Your eyes stung with the tears threatening to spill. "Please, Al. I miss you." You shook your head, chuckling sadly. It had only been 3 days, but they'd felt like an eternity. The world had seemed silent without Alastor's constant chatter.

When night fell for the fourth day, you were half asleep, eyes red and burning and tears still staining your cheeks. You talked for hours into the void of your house, the radio now moved to sit in front of you on the coffee table, growing more and more desperate as hours passed. Talking faded into pleading, and pleading into begging.

"Please, I'm sorry, if I did something wrong, I'm sorry...", you mumbled into the wooden furnishing, resting your cheek against the top of the machine, eyes slipping shut with fatigue and defeat. A dry sob slipped past your trembling lips, as your hands desperately grabbed the sides of the antique device.

"Alastor please, don't leave me alone here...", you whispered with the last of your strength, before your body succumbed to your exhaustion, your unconscious mind welcomed the darkness.

If you had stayed awake for just a moment more, you would've, maybe, heard the faint shuddering breath beyond the static rumble. But you didn't. So you had no chance at knowing that, Alastor, listening to every word, saw and heard you at your weakest, and all it did to him was stir the embers and give the blaze an opening for the flames of his anger at fate to rage.

Work had called, again. Susan of all people. Threats were made - either come back to work, or don't come back at all. You smashed your phone. It was useless anyway. What was the point without...

Alastor wasn't here, hadn't answered for seven days now. And you had spent the whole time talking, begging him to show himself, just show himself and tell you what you did wrong, just talk to you one last time and then you'd stop, if that was what he wanted. You became obsessed with the orange light of the illuminated screen, imagining the flickers were maybe signs from him.

You stopped eating, stopped drinking, stopped almost anything, you just sat, in front of the radio, unmoving and unwilling to miss the smallest sign of his return.

Every single minute stretched into agony, and every breath that left your lips made a fresh tear roll down your paling cheeks, until your body couldn't produce them anymore. Then, you cried wordless whimpers and moans, even started praying to an unknown entity.

It wasn't as if Alastor owed you anything. It's not as though you thought the two of you were anything other than two kindred souls, one human, one demon, talking to each other. As a result, it wasn't like you had the right to anything from him.

It was strange to consider the connection the two of you shared: Something more than acquaintances, something closer than friends, and yet never fully crossing the line beyond it. The unpenetrable boundary dividing life and death in between.

Your eyes fell on a large, old crucifix on your wall, staring back at you with pity.

For the first time in days, you left the sofa, took it from the wall and burned it on your gas stove, watching the face of the nailed figurine slowly melt in the fire.

***

It had been eight days of excruciating, one-sided silence.

Eight days Alastor cursed his cowardice as he sat, red eyed with claws digging into his scalp, as he listened to you plead for him to talk - To answer. To do anything. Anything, but leave you alone, he heard, as if the words were spoken right in his ear.

Eight days of watching you slowly detriment from the eyes of the shadows he was able to manifest above, tugging on the very fabric of the world to move you, to keep your mind from going where it shouldn't go.

He kept telling himself it was for the better. His shadows murmured persistent reminders that he should find entertainment in your growing lunacy. He was the radio demon, after all. He shouldn't care if this wisp of a human were to perish, should laugh at your wails of agony and despair.

But Alastor never felt less like laughing. Your dried sobs and pained apologies for things you never did wrong in the first place filled his head, taunting and gnawing on him with feelings he thought he was unable to feel: Guilt and Regret.

It was as Rosie had predicted - he was becoming weak. But weakness was something that should be avoided. Had to be. He knew. Being weak, being feeble, would make him vulnerable, make him into the prey his cruel from already portrayed to the world he had to inherit. He couldn't allow it. Couldn't let his feelings for you bring him down to the levels of the sinners in hell he would tear apart and laugh while he did it.

That's why he stayed silent. Endured it, all of it, every word, cry and plea. Stayed invisible and silent, waiting for you to move on, forget him, shut off and leave the radio, never to turn the dial again. For your sake and his.

When the connection broke, on that eight day, Alastor could feel your resignation, your peace with which your pale hands gripped the electrical cord at it's base to pull. And he was suddenly filled with the awareness of something horrible, like a premonition. It set his already battered, aching heart in an ice cold grasp of dread.

His room exploded in green light as he expanded into his full demonic form, his limbs threatening to pull and burst at the stitches and his smile splitting his face almost entirely in half. He had to reach out, had to reform the connection to the radio one last time, even though nearly impossible.

You were about to do something he would never be able to forgive himself for.

***

Your car broke down just where it needed to. You took the radio out of the trunk, knocking the hood two times for a goodbye, the key safely in the ignition. Maybe some other poor soul would find and repair it, make happier memories with it.

You clutched the wooden device closer and started to walk. Indigo blue faded into black as you looked up to the sky that was sprinkled with glowing, shimmering silver dust, stars blinking in the unimaginable distance. There, but out of reach.

Just like him.

Your dry sob stung in your throat, but you didn't really feel the pain. Your eyes were fixed on the path to your final destination, right in front of you.

The Crescent City Connection Bridge was mostly abandoned by traffic at this time of night and provided just enough covered spaces to hide you from some foolish saviors eyes.

You didn't need to be saved.

You didn't want to be saved.

Because you were about to save yourself.

There was nothing waiting for you in the other direction than the one you were going. So, with slow but steady steps, you walked towards the middle of the bridge, settling on a place next to a metal pillar and looked over the railing onto the shimmering waters of the Mississippi River.

Alastor had told you about the river, how he loved to watch the steam boats floating on it from the radio station where he worked at when he was alive. The station was long gone, you didn't even find out where it had been in the first place, but you liked to imagine that you were looking at the same scenery now that he had been looking at when he peered out of his booth in his radio tower.

It made you smile through the tears... You were glad the end was somehow connected to him, even if it was most likely just your naive imagination.

It felt like the device in your arms was emitting static energy, prickling over your arms, hands and fingers as you caressed the mahogany wood gently, feeling as though the radio was shaking in your hands, trying to pull you back from the fenced ledge.

A quiet sob escaped your lips, turning into a giggle and into hysterical laughter. You sat down between the railing, and hugged the radio close, trying to breathe as you closed your eyes, resting your temple on the worn, warm wood.

"It'll be okay, Al.", you said quietly, your voice unnaturally hoarse and rough from lack of use and dehydration. "I'm coming. I'm coming to you.”

With one arm around the radio, holding it tight against your chest, you turned to stand on shaky legs, gripping the railing with one arm and, with one final glance at the stars above you you smiled. You heard sirens in the distance, and some people shouting from a sparkling streamliner passing under the bridge. Time was running short, so you didn't wait to put first one foot over the fence, then the other, taking a deep breath.

"I guess doves were always meant to fly."

And, with that, your body twisted, turned and leaped, falling as the light on the radio, firmly pressed against your heart, began to glow in deepest crimson and swirls of green.

Falling like an angel would descend from grace.

Part 2 for closure

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #fraugwinskawrites #angst #trigger warnings #minors d #minors don't look #minors dont touch #yes I'm crying #you're crying too #we all cry here #no judgement #quickf #quickfic

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guywrestlingaddiction · 3 months

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What Turned me Gay: How to Introduce Someone to Gay Wrestling

It's no secret that wrestling turned me gay. High school wrestling turned into a passion for pro wrestling, which evolved into an obsession with gay wrestling. Now, while my journey is unique to me, I wondered, how do you turn someone on to gay wrestling?

What turned me gay (not really) ...

Troy & Brian Baker v Vinny Trevino & Joshua Goodman (bgeast.com)

This post, inspired by the sidelineland.com blog, takes a tongue and cheek look into "what made me gay (not really)" and in thinking about the topic of introducing someone to gay wrestling, it's helpful to go back to the beginning - at least my beginning.

My first exposure to gay wrestling was on bgeast.com and boy do I still have vivid memories of that experience. Those wrestler profiles, the exciting match descriptions, all of it worked to overly stimulate my young imagination. Reading about those grunting and groaning men made me feel like I was there, in the ring with them and feeling every strained bicep or the pain of a perfectly timed ball claw. One particular image forever sealed in my memory from that day was an aggressive Brigham Bell flex-straddling a helpless Dino Serra in a schoolboy pin. Brigham's cocky look, that vain bicep flex all worked to supercharge my interest.

Brigham Bell v Dino Serra (bgeast.com)

Later, after months, maybe even years of research, when I was finally able to buy my first Bgeast DVD, I picked up Tag Team Torture 3 - specifically because of Mr.Troy Baker. Now it wasn't intentional but what's key here is that I picked a gay wrestling match without the sex. As it happened, Troy Baker simply didn't do nudity and after all my 'research' there was no stopping me from wanting to see him.

Troy & Brian Baker v Vinny Trevino & Joshua Goodman (bgeast.com)A gay wrestling match without the gay sex

I mean can you blame me?

All that to say that my first introduction to gay wrestling was less about guys doing it and more about the wrestling. Of course I visited other gay sites devoted purely to sex, but somehow keeping them separate - gay wrestling and gay porn helped. In fact, it intensified my gay wrestling passion since there was just nothing hotter than being taken to the edge of excitement, only to be denied it. Gay wrestling wasn't just a cheesy prelude to the sex, it was an epic story of powerful emotions, humiliation, and masculinity. Needless to say I was hooked.

Flyboy v Jose (bgeast.com) Another gay wrestling classic without the sex.

I won't go as far to say that I didn't need the release that typical porn had to offer, but what I will say is that the images of hot guys straining their muscles or the guttural moans each fighter made was simply hotter than anything else I had seen before. Whether it was the intense cries of defeat or the shakiness in their voice when the adrenaline was flowing; all of that was heaven to me.

Mars v Bjorn (wrestler4hire.com)

But the thing that did it for me was the intense realness that gay wrestling brought. The sweat that proved each man was a fighter, the trash talk boasting how they would dominate each other, and the humiliation showing there were real consequences to all this, all worked in concert to fuel what was rapidly becoming my obsession.

Grant Phelps v Mark Molina (movimuswrestling) Movimus: The most wrestling focused studio.

At stake in each wrestling match was a piece of a man's masculinity and pride, with the winner stripping the loser of everything they had. Gay wrestling to me was everything but the sex, everything but the climax, all of which made it a thousand times hotter.

So how do you welcome someone to all that gay wrestling has to offer? Following my path I'd recommend jumping into a classic high quality match minus the sex from a studio like Bgeast then alternating between a studio that offers more sex to one that offers more wrestling.

After awhile you'll figure out where you land on this spectrum (wrestling and sex) and really begin to see where the stars align for you. Now for me, if I had to guess what the perfect mix would be, it would be something like 75% wrestling and 25% sex, but to each their own.

Ron Masters v Cody Brooks (can-am.com) Can-Am: The most sex focused studio.

Jonathan Bennett v J Durango (bgenterprises) Bgenterprises: Sometimes all wrestling, sometimes all sex.

Logan v Drake (nrwrestling.com) Nrwrestling: The most non-gay gay wrestling studio.

Luke Truong v Mack Mahoney (muscleboywrestling.com) Muscleboywrestling: More sex focused than wrestling.

Cali Boy v Christian Thorn (wrestler4hire.com) Wrestler4hire: More wrestling than sex.

Cody v Tanner Ripley (undergroundwrestler.com) Undergroundwrestler: Gay wrestling with everything but the nudity.

Kid Leopard v Sean Cannon (bgeast.com) Bgeast: This studio has everything on the wrestling-sex continuum.

When I first started watching gay wrestling there were really just a few options but now there are countless variations to entertain yourself with. Some of you may prefer more sex, others more wrestling, but whatever the type of gay wrestling you ultimately become interested in, it really is up to you. You see this story, this journey of how I came to obsess over gay wrestling is unique to me as it is to every other person's passion and without a doubt something that turned me gay (not really).

#gay wrestling #bgeast.com #thundersarena #wrestler4hire #muscleboywrestling #undergroundwrestler #nrwrestling.com

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thepersonnamedsam · 11 months

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tiktoks on the paddock

pairing: genz!driver x '23!grid

summary: tiktoks about the paddock are fun

word count: 873

warnings: none

note: enjoy :) it’s a bit short…

masterlist / taglist

The paddock, a place where many things are happening all at once. And phew, for y/n it’s like a feast for content. She loves filming everything and collecting memories. Her TikToks are an absolute favourite by the fans. Loving the content of all the drivers and her.

At the Australian GP, where she finally met Danny again, she wanted to do a TikTok with him. „Please Danny, please do a TikTok with me. I don’t even have to post it, it’s just for me and you“, she pleaded with puppy-dog-eyes and how could anyone ever say no to that face. „Alright, what do we have to do?“ - „Let’s do that one.“

Just guess how many tries it took to finally have a good result. 27 tries, 27! Daniel kept laughing or people would walk in and they had to restart the whole thing.

„Daniel Joseph Ricciardo, please be serious!“ - Oh oh, y/n just called me by my full name, this can’t be good“, he muttered. „Just try please“, she begged him. She loved his laugh, but he did it every time. Okay, she had laughed for the first few tries as well, only because he had laughed, but still.

And then Lando walked in: „Whatcha guys doin?“, y/n did not seem impressed. „Lando, you just walked into our TikTok and now we have to start again, do you know how long this takes?“, her voice serious and stern. Lando put his hands above his head and surrendered. He kind of wanted to ask to be apart of the TikTok, but as soon as he saw the look on her face, he didn’t.

As they finally managed to make a decent take, she was so happy. Doing her happy dance like she did as a little child. Daniel couldn’t help but laugh, the younger driver was just adorable. „Thank you Danny!“ She went and hugged the reserve driver. „Aw, you’re very welcome, y/n.“

And she always did a ‚get ready with me for paddock‘ TikTok, the fans love it.

„Okay guys, hello and welcome to my GRWM for the Miami GP! I am so excited! The Americans always make this huge deal out of the grand prix‘s and we’ll see how it’ll turn out this year.“ She looked into the camera of her phone, seeing her own figure. „Let’s see, I know that Lewis is gonna wear a sequinned purple jumpsuit, should we match him or do our own thing?“ Her hands were both placed on the sides of her head, squishing it, as if this would produce more ideas.

She didn’t pack that many outfits, only recently gotten into fashion, because of Lewis, duh. But you could describe her style as 70s or early 80s kind of pop-rock style, with some floated pants and vintage pieces. It wasn’t unique, she knew that, but it was what made her comfortable in her own body, thats the main reason why she wore it.

„The temperature will be high today and I don’t feel like sweating before the race. I will do that enough during. Hmm, let’s look.“

„I think I’m gonna go with these pants“, she held up some blue pleaded pants. „Yes ohh, and definitely my Rolling Stones shirt. It looks like something Harry would wear!“ That shirt was probably as old as her, she bought it in an old vintage store in Vegas in 2022.

„Oh and maybe Lily has some nice shoes for me and a bag! Let’s go ask her!“ She took the phone off the nightstand and stormed out of her hotel room. She lightly knocked on Alex‘ room and he opened. „Hey y/n, what can I do for ya?“ - „Is Lily here?“, she didn’t even said hello to him. He was taken back for a moment, but he already knew that his girlfriend was higher on y/n‘s list. „Uh yeah, she’s here.“ She pushed him aside and went into the hotel room.

„Lily, say hi to my TikTok“, she pointed her phone at the chines golfer. The spoken to just waved and looked a bit confused. „Lily, my dear, I want to wear these pants and that shirt, do you have some shoes for me?“ She looked at the older girl. „Yes, I have the perfect shoes and a bag that would look so lovely on you“, Lily was excited, always wanting to dress up the young driver.

She gave her some brown faux leather shoes with a little bit of heel. And a brown bag. She also found a hat that would look good on her. Together with some accessories, y/n was ready for the paddock (and finished with her TikTok).

Later that day, the media talked about her outfit and how it looks like something Harry Styles would wear. She was happy to see that they saw who inspired the whole look.

She didn’t do the GRWM often, but what she did was the whole trend stuff, sign her up for some funny filters, who’d she pick to be her Hogwarts Parents or some stupid dances she saw on her For You Page. She was obsessed with TikTok. She usually spent two hours before she went to sleep on TikTok. But who doesn’t.

°°°

taglist: @ironmaiden1313 , @topguncultleader , @missskid , @gulabjamooon , @lovelyy-moonlight , @peachyplumsss , @mistrose23 , @copper-boom , @love4lando , @champomiel , @serenityleah , @iloveyou3000morgan

#tiktok #f1 x reader #formula 1 #f1 #charles leclerc x reader #carlos sainz x reader #sebastian vettel x reader #fernando alonso #genz driver #daniel ricciardo #lando norris #george russell #lewis hamilton #female driver #gen z

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metalichotchoco · 7 months

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Since we know the performers are humans that entered the circus it’s interesting to theorize who they used to be before that. Of course we have very very little information but I still wanted to work with what we do have because it’s deceptively a lot. At least for 2 characters, but I’m not gonna talk about pomni. She has alot of religious imagery tied to her but there’s nothing really holding that together. Anyways imma talk about Kinger.

We are told 2 things outright about kinger, he’s been there the longest and he’s “crazy”

My theory is that Kinger was the lead developer/ someone high up that worked on the circus. Out of everyone he’s the one with the most logic when it comes to the world and how it works which is weird and insane to anyone looking in. A lot of this can be chalked up to pure experience but things like the nutritional value of food or timing when someone will abstract is a little outside things he should be aware of. He’s a white king chess piece.

White moves first in a game. He probably is the first to arrive, trying to test the game before the company sells it to the public. He’s also a weak but extremely important figure in the game. If anything gets too close to him, he’s in check essentially. The tent’s floors are also a chessboard theme which probably doesn’t mean anything but I wanted to mention it. He refers to himself as “royalty” and the lead developer of a game would probably be considered such. Everything is screaming that he’s important.

Under the cut I’ll talk about his other design elements

Out of the 4 characters that wear gloves only 2 both have white gloves, Kinger and Caine. White gloves also seem to be our “cursor” of sorts but that’s not the only thing these two have in common. They also have the same style of eyes, more bloodshot in kinger’s case, they are asymmetrical humanoid eyes that both share blue as one of their colors. It’s a bit strange that they share these traits when they could’ve totally gone fully unique. It feels almost deliberate.

They are both as crazy as each other but one is introverted and one is extroverted. Obviously they’ve known each other the longest so I wonder how their relationship is onscreen. Though something I’m realizing is that Kinger and Caine’s teasers were also connected! They were telling two sides of the same story. Bubble tries to chomp Kinger but Caine reels bubble back in.

I wonder if Kinger’s actual name is Abel.. that’s going too far I think lol. I need to see a fully green eyed character now

There’s definitely something here but I don’t expect my theory to actually be what canon will become lol.

#the amazing digital circus #tadc #tadc fanart #tadc theory #tadc kinger #tadc caine #the amazing digital circus theory #Kinger and Caine #amazing digital circus #amazing digital circus theory #Kinger #Caine #the amazing digital circus caine #the amazing digital circus kinger

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sylveon-and-velveon · 3 months

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Playing "4 Big Guys" around the slashers

Shitpost idea has been made, so here XD

This will include: Michael Myers {OG & RZ}, Brahms Heelshire, Jason Voorhees, Billy Lenz, Freddy Krueger, Stu Macher, Billy Loomis, Thomas Hewitt, Bubba Sawyer, Harry Warden, Tiffany Valentine

Feel free to request any shitpost writing prompt ideas you can think of in my asks, I love silly non-serious ideas XD

Given the music is VERY adult related, this is 18+ ONLY

OG Michael Myers

Ain't gonna lie, the second you play that song he's probably staring at you instantly. Anger? Disappointment? Cursing your entire family and possible future children? Who knows! It's Michael-Fucking-Myers baby!!!

He's not used to anything sexual overall so hearing a song openly sing about gay sex, and in such a detailed way, would worry him. Not for the singer, no- more on your taste in music.

And don't even get me started on when he hears about shit being involved. The second he hears that being mentioned he's turning off the music entirely, patting your head, and dragging you away so you'll listen to something he likes instead to cleanse that weird mind of yours. Like... Kate Bush or something.

He'd like Kate Bush right? He looks like a Kate Bush enjoyer.

RZ Michael Myers

Judging you, hard. Though he ain't saying it. His aura is practically smellable he's judging you so hard.

Does he like it? No. It's loud, obnoxious, and profound filled. Ignoring the obvious "gay sex and other weirdness" part, the volume of the music reminds him of his childhood.

He's smashing the device the music is coming from. He doesn't care if it's your MP3 all the way to a damn TV or Alexa, he's smashing that shit to pieces if it means he doesn't need to hear it anymore.

What would he put on instead? Calming ambient noises that play for hours on end on YouTube. It's the exact opposite of whatever hellscape you just played. It's better.

Brahms Heelshire

Well first of all it ain't classical, so that's a point on the "I Hate This" list.

Second it's not a piano.

Third it's literally "4 Big Guys"-

Not only is this poor man confused about everything the singer is saying, I highly doubt his parents explained LGBTQ+ to him, he's also hating how loud it is.

"Who puts things up their ass?" - Brahms Heelshire 2024

You turn off the music yourself when he practically begs you to.

You're probably tryna hold in your laughter while he's sitting on the floor trying to figure out what the fuck he just heard.

Jason Voorhees

Is there a bigger word for "traumatized"? Because that man earns it.

You're lucky af, if his mom was live she'd hit you with a crowbar so fast- Not kill you tho, she wouldn't dare hurt her boy.

But yeah, he's not saying anything, nor moving. Bro's too traumatized. LOOK WHAT YOU'VE DONE-

You better give him his teddy he fucking deserves it TmT

Laughing his ass off until the shit is mentioned, even this horny gremlin has his limits.

Can you tell I hate shit kinks? XD

He'd want an apology for you blasting that song so far to that section. But no music! He hates Christmas songs, they're so repetitive and they all sound the same anyway.

Bake him a cake, the more unique the better. His favourite so far is red velvet with cream cheese frosting!

Then when he's finished eating you're getting railed by him not longer after, man's not changed. Not now, not ever.

Freddy Krueger

You can play this entire song with this man on REPEAT and he'd be fine with it.

I'd be surprised if he didn't given his track record and.... slicing open his skin to reveal green "blood" and maggots crawling out.

Would he laugh the first time? ABSOLUTELY!

Would he jokingly sing along, probably.

But he would TOTALLY play this song when going after his victims sometimes. Imagine dying and the last thing you hear is:

"4 BIG GUYS AND THEY GRAB ON MY THIGHS-"

Stu Macher & Billy Loomis

Billy is concerned for your wellbeing. Especially when you start singing it at full force with Stu joining in not long after.

Yeah Stu is enjoying this to the max!

Finds it hilarious, who the fuck wouldn't when you've got humour more broken than Brahms' doll-

But seeing you enjoying yourself to this.... absurdity, at least makes Billy calm down from worry. Now he's just concerned your taste in music may infiltrate your taste in movies.

I doubt the man's used to hearing music.... imagine this being his first time hearing it-

OMG he'd probably think this is normal for music.

WHAT HAVE YOU DONE??? XD

If it's not his first time hearing music though? No concern, laughter, nothing. He's neutral, given that this is something that makes you a little chaotic gremlin.

He's happy seeing you comfortable enough around to be a "gremlin" as you call it.

Bubba Sawyer

Don't traumatize him more than he's been already!!

Sure he doesn't realise it, or the fact he's used to it, but the poor guy's already traumatized-

Though he's probably more confused in the whole scheme of things. I mean, he knows what sex is. But just the surface of it.

So he's probably just learnt way too much in such a short period of time.

Oh lord what have you done-

Harry Warden

Okay first of all, why is there no GIF of this man? WTF????

Second; man's from the mines, man's old fashioned, you've probably just thrown way too much modern shit in his face way too quickly that he's just staring at you, the music video, and then the floor.

Poor miner is so confused, especially when the "cum starts spraying".

Oh god he'll probably think it's like dust from the mines spraying everywhere.

Fucking hell that's a vision-

Tiffany Valentine

Finds it amusing? Yes.

Judging? Not as much as you'd expect.

Girl's been through a wild ride, hearing you blast out "4 Big Guys" from your phone wouldn't be the most shocking thing in the world.

Hell. she'd probably encourage you to start singing along to it XD

Oh she's gonna use that song to torture someone with it. She doesn't know how yet, but she's got the idea in her head now

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oliviajdjarin · 1 year

Text

Javier Peña: Call Me Javi

Pairing: Javier Peña x fem!reader (afab; she/her)

Excerpt: “His hands found their way to your waist as he walked you further and further backward, obviously having your apartment memorized like the back of his hand, and lifted you against the wall. You let a whine escape into his mouth, his facial hair burning so good against you as you did, and he pulled away with a groan that sounded like he was near pain.

“Tell me Y/N,” he whispered, breathing as hard as he did after raids, “tell me if I need to stop, because I won’t be able to stop myself.”

Your brows creased together in slight confusion, but you whispered, “I will.”

He kissed you again, before sinking to his knees.”

Warnings: SMUTTT, slightly insecure reader, mentions of smoking, Javier is cocky (what’s new), oral female receiving, idiots in love.

1.4k

A/N: I needed some Javi in my life. I hope you enjoy :)

If you’d like to leave a like, comment, reblog, or ask, it would be much appreciated <3

Pedro Masterlist

(gif credit to owner I owe you big time this gif absolutely ends me)

The rubber from his tires came into your apartment’s parking lot so hot they ignited not one spark, but a dozen, lighting up the dark Colombian sky. You could feel your legs beginning to quiver and shake, knowing who was behind that wheel.

“Right now?” he had whispered over the phone.

“Right now, Javier” you whispered back, “now or never.”

That wasn’t even ten minutes ago.

Javier Peña had been your acquaintance for two years, your coworker for one, and your friend for six months. The process had been slow, due to both of your unique issues and the fact that you were after the best drug lord that had ever lived, but you had gotten there eventually. He understood your humor--even the pieces of it dripping in a dark ink--and that was where your own spark began. The teasing began, then the bickering, then the long smokes outside after a day with more casualties than fingers on your hands where neither of you had to say anything.

He had always been good at that, saying everything yet nothing at all. It was exactly what you needed in those moment, the silence of the unsaid pact between you: keep each other sane. Keep each other distracted.

There was only one more step you had to take, one more figurative box to check to let Javier truly distract you from the bucket of shit day you had. You could see it in his eyes during those long smoking nights, the proposal for it, but he always read your eyes right back: Not yet.

It didn’t take very long or “not yet” to turn into “right now.”

Your heart crawled further and further up your throat when you heard his boots hit your carpeted floor, moving just fast enough to be subtle but fast enough for you to smirk, and you cracked your door open a sliver.

He looked how he always looked, handsome with a drizzle of rugged. Your kryptonite.

You took a deep breath before opening the door, reminding yourself that this is just Javier. The Javier who drinks black coffee, only black coffee, blushes at compliments, has a soft spot for cats, adores reality tv, and would never, ever hurt you.

You opened the door all the way when he made his way in front of it. His eyes were blown wide, the proposal from all those weeks ago present in his eyes, as well as...apprehension. Like he genuinely thought this would never happen, you would never say yes, and if he traced one valley of your skin, he would wake up.

You smiled, enjoying this look on him, and nodded.

He smiled too, and kissed you dizzy.

He walked you back into the apartment, gently, and helped you close the door. His tongue teased yours as he locked it behind his back, and you both pulled away to smile. It weakened more than just your limbs.

His hands found their way to your waist as he walked you further and further backward, obviously having your apartment memorized like the back of his hand, and lifted you against the wall. You let a whine escape into his mouth, his facial hair burning so good against you as you did, and he pulled away with a groan that sounded like he was near pain.

“Tell me Y/N,” he whispered, breathing as hard as he did after raids, “tell me if I need to stop, because I won’t be able to stop myself.”

Your brows creased together in slight confusion, but you whispered, “I will.”

He kissed you again, before sinking to his knees.

Suddenly, you realized everything he meant, all of it, and an exhale of fear escaped from you before you could stop it.

His honey-dipped vanilla eyes met your own instantly, mouth formed into an o, and his hands removed themselves from your jeans.

“No, it’s okay,” you whispered, bringing his hands back to your thighs. “I--I’ve never had that before, that’s all. Just scared me.”

You had seen Javier angry before, but this wasn’t that. You’d seen him sad before, sad for you even, but this look wasn’t that either. It was...disappointment. That was it. Disappointment. Disappointment and resentment.

“You haven’t?” he whispered, massaging your thighs.

You shook your head. “No. I’ve asked for it, but--”

“And so you will have it,” he said, and practically ripped your jeans in two. Your underwear came down with it, and you were suddenly bare. The A/C hit you, igniting chills down your freshly-shaved legs, as well as the sweat from your kiss freezing its heat against your skin, and you were tempted to cover yourself completely.

But Javier was looking at you in a way you had never seen before.

He was kneeling there, examining your body like an artist to his sculpture, as if he...as if he might...

You wouldn’t go there. Not yet.

“Y/N,” he groaned against the skin of your shin, kissing all the way up to your pulsing core, “I think I’m dreaming.”

And then he dove in.

You had experienced pleasure before--quick fucks, your own hand, maybe even making love--but one lick of Javier’s tongue, one scrape of his moustache against your soft skin, one grip of his hands against your ass, and sparks brighter than the ones from his tire clogged your vision.

You were in heaven, or maybe hell, whichever one had an eternity of this.

“Javi,” you whimpered as he mapped you out like the expert he was. Tunnels of fire shot up your thighs to your lower back causing it to arch, only pressing his mouth against you harder. Your right hand gripped his hair while your left gripped his leather jacket, your mouth could not keep itself shut, and tears burned your eyes as he licked and sucked and kissed right there--

“Javi, don’t you--don’t you dare stop.”

He pulled away from the obscene noises his mouth was making against you and said, “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

He ate you out for what had to have been hours and seconds. It felt endless yet not enough. Never enough. He finally worked his fingers up to you, entering you like butter, and another pathetic whine came from what had to have been you. You couldn’t even recognize yourself.

“Javi please--” you wheezed, your fire burning you alive, “I’m right there.”

“I feel it baby, I feel you,” he whispered against you, licking his lips. “Just a bit longer.”

He ate and ate and ate. You were there, then you weren’t, you were screaming, then silent, on the brink of release, then almost numb. He was etching his sculpture effortlessly, hitting you exactly where he wanted you to curve.

You never wanted anything else that wasn’t him, that wasn’t this, him on the floor, your spine against the wall, his face between your legs.

Finally, your fire caught enough for you to grip his hair the way you had discovered he liked, and he kept going. You were there, right on the edge, your fire coiling inside you--

“Come on hermosa, come on,” he whispered against you, mouth dripping with you, “let me feel it, give it to me.”

And you did, so good it hurt.

Your back curved against the wall and sweat dripped down your shirt as he wiped you clean, licking from your chins up to your clit, fully wiping you down. With your heartbeat finally slowing you could hear more of the noises he was making.

He was nearly as pathetic as you.

Finally, you pulled his face up from between your legs and pressed his forehead to yours. His breath was a mix of nicotine and you, and his moustache was nearly damp. His cheeks were reddened as well as his neck, and his eyes...

...you had never seen them more black.

You felt your way around his body, the two of you once again falling into the rhythm of saying everything and nothing, and your fingers traced their way to his bulge completely soaked.

He didn’t—

You looked up at him, shock surely present on your face, and he immediately kissed you harder than he had all night. His mouth was wet and tired, but still giving you everything you wanted. Ever the hard worker.

He pulled way to kiss your hairline and whispered, “Call me Javi from now on. I like it.”

And with that, he was backing out of your apartment, away from you, a bead of you still dripping down his chin as he closed the door.

Tag list: (I apologize if your tag is not working/not present. If you’d like to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)

@leahkenobi @lovesbiggerthanpride @paintlavillered @xocalliexo @c4psicles-blog @joelsflannel @thesmutslut @untitledarea @aninnai

#javier peña #javier peña x reader #javier peña headcanon #javier peña smut #javier peña oneshot #javi #narcos #netflix #Pedro Pascal #pedro pascal x reader #tlou #pedro pascal x you

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theold-ultraviolence · 1 year

Note

Hello my loveeeeee

I come bearing Aemond thots

So we know Aemond is observant and a man of few words so in relation to his wife I think he would have sooo many feelings about just the littlest things he notices about her but he can't figure out how to say it I imagined he's tried to a couple times but it didn't come out right poor thing

So he started writing her letters almost daily even though they see eachother every day just so he can get his words out 🤍

Whispers Unsaid / Part II

Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader

A/N: CEE. When I tell you I've never ran to write a prompt THIS QUICKLY, I think I'm breaking a personal record here. This is the sweetest, most precious and unique concept ever and omg I hope I did it justice. Thank you for indulging me and for letting me explore more of Aemond!! Title is based on the song 'Hail to the King' by A7X, which is also the album that has been inspiring me when it comes to him. CW: suggestive language, no explicit content. Words: 2k.

“What are you doing, husband?”

You sigh from your spot on your shared bed, with an outstretched hand in search of his touch, only it lands beside you on the empty dent where the warmth of his form still lingers.

It’s late, and Aemond’s back is towards you, with his long hair cascading behind him like the silvery moonbeams that reflect on the ocean just outside of King’s Landing. Straight and stoic as always, he sits, illuminated by the triad of candles sitting on his desk as he’s calmly scribbling away on paper.

He stops as soon as he hears your quiet calling, and only turns halfway to grant you a little smirk. “Just some writing. Go back to sleep.”

“Just some writing, he says...”

He huffs out a quiet puff of air that’s just Aemond’s way of laughing, and you consider it a win.

At the beginning, the silence had unnerved you; it puzzled you, to be the one to take up the mantle between the two of you and prompt the conversation out of him for seldom did he utter a single word. It’s like Aegon had claimed all the bark upon being the first one to leave their mother’s womb and left no words to spare for Aemond or Helaena.

But in time, you learned that that’s just the kind of man that Aemond is, and it does not mean that he despises you, as you’d first believed as a newlywed, being one in need of affirmation to be at ease knowing their care is reciprocated.

Having been betrothed to Aemond had proved to be a blessing, despite it being a political arrangement. You’d grown too fond of him, too attached to his scent and the weight of his body against you. You’d often think about what would’ve become of you, hadn’t you been matched with someone as caring and devoted as he.

Albeit eternally silent.

So you made it your own little game, to try and pry a smile out of him with your quips, or a sigh of contentment with your caresses, anytime you could. This little laugh you treasure, as it’s a sound as rare as a King without a crown, or a Valyrian without a dragon

“May I enquire, your grace, if it’s something appropriate to share with your lady wife?”

You speak through a teasing smile and a giddy heart over the sight of his shoulders visibly relaxing and a dimple surfacing along the lines of his sharp jaw.

“Whispers unsaid, I believe,” he murmurs cryptically, and isn’t that the understatement of the era.

Everything that Aemond utters to you is restrained, often biting his tongue when he sees you changing into your dress in the morning, or walking down a stairwell while lifting up your skirt, like a proper princess. You wonder what he thinks of you, what passes through the intricate maze that is his mind, whenever he’s helping you put on a piece of jewelry, or tying up the laces of your slippers or squeezing your hand in his in a crowded room.

His gaze is the loudest, while his lips refrain from speaking.

And it is indeed far too late for either of you to be up, hence why your eyelids are dropping regardless of you aching to keep admiring Aemond, so you give up on coaxing the conversation out of him and ultimately mutter, “come back to bed, husband.”

“I’ll be there in a moment.”

You huff in a childlike manner, inching closer to his spot on the bed to absorb the remnants of his warmth, to inhale that characteristic scent that emanates from the crown of his head, imprinted on the pillow.

“You know I can’t sleep without you,” you dare confess. Only in the hour of the owl did you let these kinds of truths spill.

It’s true, you cannot. Not when your lives are marked by unrelenting stress, impending danger. He’s your anchor, at the end of the day. In his arms you seek the safety and softness that you need after so much endurance and you dread the moment he’ll be yanked away to war.

He nods and finally joins you, immediately cradling your face to his neck before his arms envelop you.

In a dreamy haze, you mumble, “one day you’ll have to tell me all about what you write…is it fiction? Is it prose? Are you writing about how you secretly despise your wife?” you yawn, making him humm amusedly before he’s lulling you to sleep by tracing his fingers all along your spine until you’re no longer conscious.

–

First you hear all the clattering noises about the room before you fully awaken, and the next thing you register is the lack of a firm body against your own under the covers.

Groggily, you call for his name, over and over again and louder each time until a pair of hands frame your face and thin lips tenderly plant themselves on your forehead.

“What’s going on?” you’re greeted first thing at dawn to a room bathed by shadows except for his sapphire eye, as bright as the sun.

“Off to clean up after Aegon’s messes, as always.”

“When will you be back?” one of your hands joins his atop your cheek as your brain tries to process what he’s saying, and you’re hit with the realization that he’ll be away from you for Gods know how long.

“I’ve no way of knowing. But I promise I’ll come back to you as soon as I’m able.”

“Promise me,” you plead, staring intently at his right eye and feeling the tiniest bit of relief when you see it twinkling with affection.

He nods before his touch leaves your face until he’s got a hold of your hand with both of his, depositing something right into it that he seals with one final kiss.

“If you need me, my lady, look under the dresser. There’s a chest there with something I think you might enjoy.”

You realize there’s a key dangling from a silver chain left in your open palm.

Before you can even question him, he gives you one last longing stare, and leaves out the door.

His last message doesn’t fully sink in as you’re more preoccupied with burying your head in your husband’s pillow.

And it isn’t until the end of this day – an excruciating one without his presence – that you kneel down to retrieve a heavy treasure chest made out of fine silver, which unlocks by the turn of the key that had been resting around your neck.

You bring it with you to the bed to study its contents, soon to realize that it contains piece after piece of paper, with dates inked on the corners, going back as far as the day you were officially married.

Your heart takes on a galloping beat as you read, as you go through each of Aemond’s secret letters to you.

“My lady, we are officially wed. I am eternally grateful to my mother and father for having agreed upon bethroding me to you. I’d had my eye on you for a long time. I’m almost certain they noticed for I’m not entirely discreet – aiding their final decision. I look to the fates that have been bestowed on the rest of my family and while I would have fulfilled my duty with honor, I am relieved and overjoyed that I get to be by your side until the end of our days. The only thing that frightens me is you becoming bored of my existence. I know I’m not the liveliest of princes, but I hope I can convey the affection that I hold for you in the best way that I can. You are the loveliest in the whole court – in the whole kingdom. I’m most fortunate to be yours.”

“Dear wife, you drive me wild. I wish there was a way to bottle up the sound of your laughter and your moans. It’s exquisite. I wish to keep it, turn it into an elixir to help me soothe the stress of my days if you are ever not around. Please, never stop whispering in my ear, never stop cutting your giggles short for fear of appearing childish. I yearn to hear you, I aim to please you, to make a home right in between your legs so you’ll always be pleased, and in turn, I’ll get to hear you. You hold utmost power over me, and you don’t even know it.”

“My darling, it’s the little things that make me adore you, so. The way your body elongates when you stretch out your limbs, first thing in the morning, and how the sun forms a halo around your hair as it peeks through our blinds. The way you lick your lips when I’m changing clothes after training, or when I step inside our rooms after a bath. It’s the intensity in your loving gaze, looking at me as if I still had both of my eyes – how you’ve never recoiled from the sapphire that replaces one of them. But I especially love the way your body curls around mine when we’re together in bed. I want to keep you that way, forever in my arms.”

Your heart swells with each letter and some even manage to heat you up from inside out, igniting a coiling around the pit of your stomach that has you all flustered like the young maiden you no longer were.

“Wife of mine, your beauty is truly sublime, at every hour of every day, no matter what garments you wear. Although I’m most keen on the kinds of dresses that are tight at the waist and make your breasts all plump and inviting. I both relish to show you off at court so that everyone can see that you’re mine, but loathe how the Watch Guards ogle at you. You’re mine, mine alone. Your every curve is mine to hold and fondle. Only I get to see what’s underneath. And that, my lady wife, is my preferred state to see you in. Naked before my eyes alone, sprawled on the bed with your legs opening up to welcome me in. It’s sublime, I repeat. How tightly you cling to me, how intensely do you pulse around my girth while your nails claw at my back. The day I lay on my deathbed, by Gods, I wish to see such a sight as I take my final breath.”

You’re poorly fanning yourself with your palm while walking a frantic circle around your room as you’re turning Aemond’s words around in your head.

So this is what goes through your love’s mind.

So this is what he’s been keeping from you.

There’s a whole universe contained in his mind that he can only let out through paper and ink. And now you’re even more desperate to have him here, to hold him and dote on him and compensate for all the words that fail to come out of his mouth when they're so eloquently handwritten.

On this night you don’t sleep. You’re up ‘till morrow comes and the air is crisp and you’ve gone through every single one of his letters – landmarks of your rather short time as a wedded couple, and pieces of the puzzle that used to be Aemond’s perception of you.

You’re still deeply immersed in your frenzy, for five more sunsets and sunrises until finally, you hear the lock of your bedchambers turning, and in comes your husband, bruised and battle-worn and perplexed for a second as you’re immediately on him, wrapping yourself tightly to him and peppering kisses on the corner of his lip until he catches them with his mouth.

“I love you, husband.” You exhale.

After a moment he replies, with the first full grin you see on his face without saying anything whatsoever.

Though that doesn’t trouble you anymore.

You simply return his key and eagerly lead him to his desk where he finds a brand new stack of the finest paper, blank and awaiting to receive his next stream of thoughts.

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen fanfiction #female reader #reader insert fanfiction #hotd #house of the dragon #hotd fanfiction #house of the dragon fanfiction #ewan mitchell #my writing

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attyattlaw · 4 months

Text

cross posting yesterday's rambling thread for posterity and because tumblr lets me edit things. anyway this is a sorta long thing and i might add things i forgot to mention in the twt thread

i tend to draw on-model canon because im a coward + just personal preferences. but the way i convert the canon designs into my artstyle is that i take the distinct features oda gives them and then combine it with personal headcanons to complete what should look like a unique human. Starting with Trafalgar Law, who is unfortunately a bland-ass conventionally pretty boy

someone commented a while ago the law hat drawing tutorial i made a while ago didn't make much sense and i realize its bc of the specific way i draw law's face: heart shaped (ba-dum-tss). That meaning, a narrow chin widening into a mild defined jaw, wide cheekbones, and up to his know-it-all brain dome.

given that, the pudgy guitar pick shape of his head i mentioned here should make a lot more sense.

i don't think this design point is unique to me, as most conventional pretty anime boy gets given jaws like this. a lot of law artists tend to veer into this head shape. just how life be sometimes. other points: flat, thick eyebrows is bc im a hairy gal and i need to feel better about myself.

Killer gets to be more interesting, because he shouldn't be considered conventionally attractive. my idea behind killer's is that those individual features is smth he would be insecure with enough to hide himself in a helmet but i draw him with all the love in the world actually. i'd like to think its how kid sees him or yknow, law, bc he's my kin assigned blorbo and maybe you ship lawkill as a guilty pleasure too i mentioned before (and ruined people's days) when i said whenever i draw killer he looks like griffith before i put on his goatee. the upper half of his face is distinctly feminine, with the lower half kinda over compensating. other than that uhh...idk. stan killer

Kidd is the bane of my existence, i feel like i can never draw his face consistently. yet at the same time he's so damn fun to draw everyone gotta try it.

my problem with kidd is that this mf does have eyelids. most kidd painters out there interpret this as him having deep set eyes (think Matt Smith or jeffrey star) . and yeh skill issue on me i should practice that. other notes, i try to make him younger than canon makes him look. he is my babygirl and he deserves to look cuddly. my band au kidd version has the honor of being allowed some chubs. he's just tries to look older and more menacing with edgy makeup. also i try to give him dimples when i can because, well i can.

Rosinante last bc i lost steam after kidd. the thing abt cora is that aside from not having eyebrows, everything is structured with the generic one piece man template. which means i gotta do everything myself doffy is there bc the way to figure out how to draw these two is to give them minor differences from each other, that being doffy gets slightly sharper features. in canon, these two are also rly wide boys (more of an oda style feat tbh) but i make them long. though bigger brained donquixote artists know that of these two brothers, doffy should be the wiry-er built. anyway that's it. in conclusion, i need to draw more girls actually i feel like im becoming misogynistic by osmosis from oda's style and now i draw girls all looking the same too.

#one piece #trafalgar law #eustass kid #eustass kidd #op killer #massacre soldier killer #donquixote rosinante #donquixote corazon #donquixote doflamingo #was gonna do robin and perona too at least but like...i have a job and stuff

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pet-pet-peet · 11 months

Note

For the 100 follower event can i request the pocky game hcs like the dorm leaders but with the vice dorm leaders this time? If thats okay

👉👈

I’m very down, vice dorm leader requests = bat daddy requests Story: When visiting you in your world, you introduce him to pocky and say you have to play the pocky game since it’s pocky day! * This is female reader, but I generally don’t use many gendered terms in my writing..just know that I’ll opt more for feminine ones if I add any (aka, probably good for anyone, but the occasional gendered term will be female) Tw: lots of kissing and intimacy, Lilia's is a bit spicy as always, ORTHO IS INVOLVED BUT HIS HAS NONE OF THE PREVIOUS THINGS MENTIONED HIS IS WHOLESOME AND PLATONIC AND THERE IS NO PHYSICAL TOUCH INVOLVED

Pairing(s): Trey, Ruggie, Jade, Jamil, Rook, Ortho (platonic I promise), Lilia x female reader playing the pocky game (separate)

𝕿𝖗𝖊𝖞

He’s heard of something like pocky before, but he’s never tried making some

Probably asks if you want to make some with him so you two can try it out and see how it goes; ends up being pretty fun!

After making sure they tasted okay, you told him about the pocky game and it had him curious, he asks you to tell him more

After your explanation, he smiles kindly and asks if you want to play it

You both bite your respective ends and muffle a “three..two..one!” Thus, the race begins

As you almost reached the halfway mark, Trey took a big bite and beat you to it, looking at you with a mischievous gaze

Your pouting only made him feel more accomplished, and he quickly agreed to a rematch

You put a piece of pocky between you both and continue the rematch

This time he got as close as he could before pulling back suddenly and laughing a bit, saying you won

Every turn after is a mixed bag of reactions from him, but he definitely keeps you on your toes

𝕽𝖚𝖌𝖌𝖎𝖊

This little shit- don't expect anything fair..

He's honestly not too interested in the idea of a pocky game, he doesn't think you should play with food

That said, he did get kind of curious when you explained it to him

He would agree to only one round, but he wouldn't do anymore (for free)

You put the pocky between you both and both of you bite down on your respective ends

Then no one moves- you both just stare at each other while holding pocky between

You decide you'll go for the kill, but figure out you actually can't move

Ruggie laughs at your puzzled expression

He uses his unique magic to just make you give him the stick of pocky and he eats it quickly before you could do anything

Pecks your lips before getting up and leaving with the rest of the pocky

𝕵𝖆𝖉𝖊

You ask if he's ever had pocky, to which he says he's heard of it but never had it

You then make a terrible mistake by asking it he wants to try it by playing the pocky game

You have his curiosity, so he asks you to explain the roles; he listens intently with a calm smile

He requests that you demonstrate what you're meant to do, his smile grew as if he was talking about his beloved mushrooms

You go ahead and set the game up between you two

You start taking slow bites towards the center, but notice that Jade's not moving at all

He stayed like that for a bit longer, just watching you chew closer and closer

At some point, he puts his head on your chin and gently pull you closer, giving you a short kiss

He smiles innocently when you pull away, saying he thought it was an interesting game and that you two should play more

Sits silently like a menace as he "innocently" watches you stumble over yourself

𝕵𝖆𝖒𝖎𝖑

He doesn't usually have much time for games, or himself..or you for that matter-

But anytime he can be around you, he wants to make sure you're satisfied

Kind of concerning, between worrying about Kalim's need and worrying about your needs he doesn't seem to have much time for himself

So you decided that this would be a good way for him to let loose a little

You both sat under a tree, his head laying on your lap as you both shared a box of pocky

You asked him to just hold one in his mouth, so he did while looking at you with curiosity

He lowkey got flustered when you leaned closer and ate at the pocky, he almost choked on it, but he kept in that position

You made it to his lips and kissed him sweetly, he returned the gesture but was a bit confused on your approach with it

You told him he should have more time to just be, and not have to worry about satisfying people

He was slightly embarrassed about being called out, but he let you take care of him a bit more afterwards

𝕽𝖔𝖔𝕶

He was on board as soon as you mentioned that there was a game

No hesitation, he put a pocky in his mouth without even hearing the rules

When you asked if he wanted to know them, he shook his head and stared at you expectantly

He watched as you started to eat the pocky, but he didn't move

When you were about to touch his lips you pulled back, which confused him

You laughed at his thoughtful reaction and proclaimed victory, making him think even more

In the end he just laughed and congratulated you for your victory

Endless praises as he asks in a chivalrous way for a rematch, which you accept

It essentially was the same as the first round, which made you feel a bit bad since in your mind he clearly didn't understand the rules

Head went empty when he pulled you into a kiss before you were able to back away, though

𝕺𝖗𝖙𝖍𝖔

He noticed you always talk about pocky with Idia, so he found a way to make some for you!

Brought out his (slightly burnt) homemade pocky sticks during one of your binge nights with him and his brother

You ate them regardless of their faults, but felt a bit bad that Ortho couldn't indulge in his creation too

So you asked him and Idia if they wanted to play a game with the pocky!

Idia was a bit on the fence but asked for you to explain the rules

You distributed an even amount of pocky to each of you, saying that whoever makes the best creation (via Magicam poll) with the limited amount of pocky in 30 minutes wins

Both brothers seemed interested, so you set the timer and all of you rushed to stack pocky pieces

It wasn't the easiest, since pocky didn't exactly like to stay in the positions you put it, but you gave it your all

Ortho had the advantage, as he could use a small laser to melt the chocolate enough to stick them together

Magicam agreed, as Ortho's cute little pocky cabin got majority of the votes

𝕷𝖎𝖑𝖎𝖆

He was incredibly curious about pocky since it's not something he's experienced

In all his travels, never once had he heard of it, so trying the snack from your world was something he was very invested about

Especially with how much you seemed to gush about it

As you pulled a box out and toward him, he noticed a cute slyness twinkle in your eyes, and you mentioned a game

He asked for the rules, so he knew what he was getting into; it was inevitable that he'd accept the challenge

He made sure to run his fingers over your scalp and behind your ear, attempting to fluster you as you took your positions

Otherwise he played fair for the round

Playing fair doesn't mean going easy, he gave it his all and it payed off

He won and gave you a celebratory kiss

You probably don't play anymore rounds after, he'd rather take the intimate opportunity to make out with you

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #trey clover #trey clover x reader #ruggie bucchi #ruggie bucchi x reader #jade leech #jade leech x reader #jamil viper #jamil viper x reader #rook hunt #rook hunt x reader #ortho shroud #ortho shroud x reader #lilia vanrouge #lilia vanrouge x reader

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