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#don't love the art but the plot is great
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Month 3, day 7, got the nose done and since the guide helped a ton with that (and fixing some weirdness in the eyebrows), I'm gonna try animating the eyes and mouth at the same time and see if I can get them to agree with me. If they don't, it's no big deal; I'll just go back to animating one facial feature at a time :)
#the great artscapade of 2023#art#my art#my animation#walk cycle#oc: mizu#I've only gone one day not playing Forspoken and already I miss having Frey and Cuff being snarky assholes at each other ):#I'll have time to play tomorrow (in theory) but I miss them anyway ):#I should hurry up and beat the game so I can go lurking in the subreddit and other places with Forspoken love and appreciation#I need to beat it first so I don't accidentally spoiler myself again#because if I understood that one spoiler right I'm sad I won't get the full impact of the reveal scene#but I'm really hoping I misinterpreted the spoiler and can still be fully surprised#bc it was just a picture and a name#unfortunately there were enough context clues I'm pretty sure the conclusion I came to with that one glance is the correct conclusion#which makes me sad because that would have been one hell of a plot twist to get blindsided by#as it is I'm looking for clues and foreshadowing and man oh man let me tell you#if I'm not wrong and I read the context clues right and I'm not misinterpreting everything the game goes BONKERS with the obfuscation#because I can see the spoiler coming if it's actually what's going to happen but it's the kind of ''I can see it coming'' where it's like#I'm watching the shadow of an invisible hawk dive-bombing me from my blind spot#plus I'm actually like this close to writing fix-it fic for how I expect the reveal to play out just for some catharsis about it XD#but I don't actually know! and that's really the worst thing about spoilers! it's not knowing what happens that makes spoilers suck#it's knowing what's going to happen but not knowing what leads up to it and driving myself frantic looking for the foreshadowing!
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pieufer · 12 days
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Yandere Butler x Reader
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CW: Female reader, obsessive thoughts, death(not reader).
He came across the novel by chance, not really by chance since his little sister often uses his phone and would use it however she pleases, but he never read a story that had such a grip on him just as this one.
'The Villainess' Reawakening' is a two-hundred chapter long webnovel that recently blew up with the manhwa raising its popularity with its gorgeous art and fantastic character designs. Centering around underpaid and cooperate slave Kim Lee who dies from over exhaustion and suddenly finds herself woken up in her favorite webnovel. Unfortunately, she's the villainess who's executed in the end for attempted murder towards the protagonist. Not wanting the same fate, she uses her status and money to change her bad ending and live in the country side in peace.
Simple, and straight to the point. He knows hundreds of plot the exact same of it yet he enjoys it all the same. He understands why his sister loves these types of stories so much.
He doesn't need to think too hard about the plot and its central characters, he doesn't remember either of the leads names and he doesn't have to. Most of them follow a certain character type that's the same as the others he has read, and all of them mushes his brain into juice and thinks of them all the same.
They're fun. Sometimes, some people just want to read something to stimulate their brain out of boredom, a distraction. Immersing themselves. Reimagining they're in a colorful world surrounded by riches, walls made of marble and gold, never having to worry about the old, murky wallpapers that started to peel off and the leaking ceiling that needs fixing.
Characters that are character types with one shtick about them. The white lotus who's shown as a humble and soft-spoken revealed to be a scheming two-faced girl wanting all attention on her. The duke of the north, someone who's been wronged at a young age resulting in their cold-hearted nature but all changes once they meet the female lead. Ex-fiance crown prince, who at first despised the villainess but becomes obsessed once she calls for an annulment of their engagement and denies it all by saying it's one of the villainess schemes of getting their attention.
They're fictional, that's the point. It doesn't matter if they're a generic antagonist or a male lead without a smidge of chemistry with the female lead. Everything contrasts to reality and find joy that doesn't involve struggles and pain.
He doesn't need to worry when he'll be able to pay their every growing debt. The water and electricity are going to cut off next week if he doesn't work his ass off. And his sister's tuition still hasn't been paid either. His gotten a headache from the amount of work and a stomach ache for skipping a meal just so his sister could eat. He doesn't need to feel sad that all his friends his known before have all and moved on in their lives while his still stuck in his.
When he reads it, those thoughts never cross his mind.
Yes, that's right. Those things don't exist in the fictional world. Everything shitty that's happening can be resolved quickly with a happy ending.
The female lead's neglectful father, someone who's blamed them for the death of his wife because of childbirth, will regret his actions and try to reconcile with her. The ex-fiance crown prince will be left for dust. And the female lead ends up with the cold duke of the north.
Simple, straight to the point, and fun.
However, what's keeping his interest in continuing this story was you. The original protagonist of 'The Villainess Reawakening'. The kind and gentle girl. Adopted daughter of a count with a passion for art. A commoner with the inability to speak, something that's caused you great suffering. You'd struggled with it as said by the villainess recalling the events of the story she's in.
Poor lonely girl who's thrown away by her parents of something she's born with and something she couldn't control. They saw you as a nuisance, a heavy chain that brings them down for you have no use in their eyes. It's already hard enough to feed a family of three, might as well make it two and be done with it.
Since there weren't any orphanages in the town you came from, you lived in the streets the majority of your life and did whatever you could to survive. Be it eating rotting fruits and garbage. Your clothes had ripped and clinged with dirt. Hands calloused and skin scraggly. You sleep in the back-alleys, with a laughably awful handmade leaves that's meant to be a blanket and a hard rock as a pillow.
The townfolks have already remembered your face. You've wandered everywhere, begging for scraps of bread. Something. Just anything to satisfy your ever growing stomach. The people of the town whispers to themselves how pitiful you are to cling to life. Some even say death would be a better option. But you didn't.
Because you wanted to live.
The story never says when, but, it was just any other day. Begging in the streets till your eyes were drawn to a man sitting alone in the town's water fountain. A canva in front of him and a brush in his hands. As you neared closer, you saw he was drawing the deep-blue sky but there were other things drawn in too. A girl riding a broom in the sky. There were other people in it too, all wearing smiles and riding there brooms as well. Casting spells that makes confetti and rainbows.
Though, your lips were chapped and in need of water, you managed to ask the painter why he painted something if that something isn't there in the first place.
The painter laughed at your words and answered, that in a world that's filled with despair, isn't it nice to think of one where happiness strives? No war, no poverty, no fear. It maybe not the healthiest way to deal with your troubles but its the joy and comfort it brings you that matters.
After finishing his paint, he handed you his work and asked for you to keep it. With that, he walks off.
And that's where your passion for arts began. Whatever you could get your hands on, whatever you could find. You drew.
Drawing on the muddy dirt with a stick, drawing the street's walls with coal, and if you're lucky enough, drawing with a piece of used paper and a pen. You sculpted with mud, used bits of your falling hair to make a doll.
Years passed by and your predicament hasn't gotten better, but your passion in arts only blossomed. You managed to grab a hold of a blank canva someone left on the side of the street, its sides are dirty but isn't that noticeable or major. Sketching it with your pencil day and night, till you've finished. You went to the market place to try and sell your art, in hopes all hard work paid off and you'll be able to have a meal for the day. Soon enough, you catch the eyes of a passing count who adopts you for the potential he saw at your talents in arts.
The suffering doesn't stop there, however, as your first step towards high society was filled with scorned and mock laughter for your humble background. It was bearable. Oh, so you told yourself. You've seen faces like that before in the streets mixed with pity. You're grateful for the count for what his done and a few insults won't get you. Rumors spread faster than you imagine. Murmuring of the beggar who was taken in by a noble. Because of this, you caught the attention of the crown prince and the wrath of his fiance.
The pre-transmigration villainess, tried to kill you over and over. And because of the attempts of murder on your back, you were fearful of the chance of being killed and didn't came out of the Count's mansion, but became closer with the prince who snuck out of the palace to go and see you. As the original story went before Kim Lee took in the body of the original villainess.
And that's what he liked about you.
While you kept moving forward, he gave up long ago and followed aimlessly whatever paths the easiest to live a comfortable life. In his eyes you were a star, someone who shines so brightly their light wouldn't dim out. Something he can wish for but knows he'll never have, merely a hopeful yearning.
Kim Lee empathize with you. And he admired you.
And then the accident happened. It was a crash, his eyes were too tired that day and his migraine wouldn't stop his head from throbbing that he didn't hear the honk of a truck until it hits him. When he opened his eyes, he was shaking, tears in his eyes. His dead. He was dead, yet he was alive, somehow...?
Few weeks passed and he came to realize that his soul got sent to another world, and just like the stories he had read, he'd quickly learned to adapt in it. He prayed, he left enough money for his sister and wished her the best, that she didn't need to struggle just as he had.
The body he transmigrated into was named Benjamin, the third son of a baron. He was on a two-week break as his mother requested to the count. That he, Benjamin, suddenly fainted while serving the young lady and was asleep for two days with a high fever. He couldn't make out what she said afterwards. No, what fogged his mind is how he's a personal servant to none other you.
The Villainess' Reawakening didn't mention what happened to you afterwards when the crown prince chased after the villainess but none of that matters. He was going to meet you, not as a drawing in a comic or a name in a webnovel but a skin he can touch, a face he can gaze at. Something he can latch on to, something that he can dig his fingers into till it bleeds.
And when his break was over, he couldn't hide his excite of the thought of you. You will be as beautiful as the comic drew you to be, you'll be as beautiful as the novel describes. You're a light, a rightful path, a star.
If the story didn't give you an ending he'll make one himself. The crown prince is on a wild goose chase, searching for the villainess to reconsider their marriage. And if the Kim Lee can change the story, then it wouldn't mind if it changed even further, right?
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writers-hq · 1 year
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WHY IS WRITING IS SO FUCKING HARD?
Ten types of fuckery that stop you from writing the thing:
1. Imposter syndrome
You think you're not good enough or everyone else is better than you and you're just winging it AKA ye olde imposter syndrome bullshit. Yeah nah you're fine. No really, you're exactly where you need to be right now, and you'll keep getting better and better so long as you don't stop. Chances are, if you're filled with doubt about your abilities it means you've actually improved to the point where you can really start to understand what makes good writing. It means you know where you wanna end up and goshdarn it you're gonna get there.
Read this: 4 tips to kick imposter syndrome in the face and also genitals
And also this: How to silence the inner critic
2. Fear of rejection and/or failure
Yeah, us too. It fuckin sucks. BUT. Not all rejections are equal. And rejection is a necessary part of the process. Sometimes it takes a rejection to realise that a story isn't ready. Sometimes a rejection is entirely subjective and has ZERO reflection on the quality of your work. But shying away from the very idea of possibly maybe hypothetically getting rejected is only going to hold you back from even trying. And knowing why you got rejected and how to learn from it is one of the most valuable writing skills.
Read this: The different types of rejection (and how to deal with 'em)
Then read this: How to cope with rejection
And also this: Writing lessons from Groundhog Day
3. Not enough planning / too much planning
Leaping into a new story with nothing but a glimmer of an idea is exciting as heck (and can sometimes be a great way to begin) but at some point you're gonna need some sort of outline or plan to keep you on track. HOWEVER. Planning your story to within an inch of its life can also sometimes be a hindrance - leaving you stuck in the hypothetical stage of the process where your story doesn't quite exist yet (and therefore avoiding the prospect of it sucking). The sweet spot is in the middle. Having just enough of a plan to know where tf you're going, but enough freedom and flexibility to let the story lead the way...
Read this: Planning vs pantsing
Then read this: Five plotting techniques
And also this: The perils of overplanning
4. Your WIP just isn't working
Sometimes things just fall flat. Sometimes you work on the same story for yeeeeears and then it just kinda... dies. Sometimes you have the best plans (see above) and the best intentions and things still don't work out. Sometimes it's just time to move on. And sometimes it's not! Sometimes a story can be revived, fixed or changed. Sometimes you just need time. Sometimes YOU'RE the one that's changed and this isn't the story you need to be writing right now. Many variables. Muchly personal. Read the things below for more advice cos this is a big question:
Read this: What to do when your WIP isn't working
And also this: Give it space - how to grow a story in your head
Or how about this? Editing 101
5. You keep deprioritising it
Ah the irony of writing being the thing you love/want to do most of all AND YET the thing you procrastinate over and avoid and shove to the very bottom of your to-do list all the freakin' time. Maybe it's the comodification of art destroying our freedom to create without pressure. Maybe it's late capitalism sucking up all our available time and energy. Maybe it's a lack of self-belief subconsciously telling us our 'little hobby' doesn't really matter. Maybe it's maybelline. Whatever it is, you have the power to reclaim and revalue your writing. To say, "I'm a fucking writer, goddamnit!" and mean it. To ringfence your creative time so nothing and nobody gets to interrupt it. To do that thing you love.
Read this: Prioritise your writing
Read this: How to write in 30 second bursts
6. Shiny Thing Syndrome
You know that feeling when you're just getting stuck into a writing project and then — SQUIRREL! — you get distracted by another, better, more shiny writing project? Or maybe you're deep in the editing phase and your current WIP just isn't feeling very shiny at all and pretty much ANYTHING seems more exciting? Or you simply can't decide which of the many squirrelly writing ideas to actually start? You, fine writerperson, may be suffering from Shiny Thing Syndrome (STS). But fear not! There are a few ways to combat it, depending on the cause, and most of them involve embracing the squirrel-brain and injecting a bit of fun into your writing, like so:
Read this: Shiny thing syndrome - a writer's malady
Aaaand read this: Get excited about your writing again
And also this: Write like a kid
7. Perfectionism/self-sabotage
Look. Writing is scary as shit. What if someone READS it? What if they don't like it? What if they see into your soul and gain a deeper understanding of you through your words? Writing your truth, being vulnerable, smearing your heart juice all over the page? No thank you. But also, that's where the good shit is, so actually yes please. Just make sure you smear responsibly. And rest assured, even the most 'successful' and experienced writers ALSO feel like this sometimes, so you're in good company. It's just part of the art, bruh.
Read this: Why writing is scary (and why that's a good thing)
Read this: Beginning a story - what stops us starting?
And also this: Get out of your own way
8. The dreaded blank page
Oh godddd the blank page. It should be an exciting palimseset of possibility but is somehow also the most terrifying thing known to humankind. You wanna write something but where to start? HOW to start? You type that first line and immediately delete it. You watch the cursor blinking at you—taunting you—until you just give up and shut your laptop again. It's probably tied up with a bunch of things we've already covered so far: perfectionism, imposter syndrome, fear of failure, maybe a lack of planning or faith in your story or whatever. But it doesn't have to be this way. A blank page IS exciting and full of possibility. We just have to get over ourselves and learn to embrace the unknown...
Read this: Don't fear the blank page
And also this: The moaning method
9. Not enough time/energy/motivation/gnuuuughh
Dude, same x 1000. But you don't have to get up at 5am, do hot yoga, drink a kale smoothie and write a thousand words before sunrise to be a Proper Writer. You don't even have to write every day. But what you can do is hack your writing brain and figure out when, where, how, and why you write most effectively. Then tweak your schedule, your habits, and your attitude to ensure you're making the most of your time. Productivity is a big ol' lie but finding the secret to getting in your own personal writing zone is actual MAGIC.
Read this: Maximise your writing time
And also this: Get in the writing zone
And also unto this: The Writers' HQ Guide to Productivity
10. You're just fucken stuck
Got the writing morbs? In need of some literary sudafed? Stuck as a pig in a poke? Writing is a whole puzzle of a process—and to be honest that's what makes it so fun and exciting and addictive, because your writing brain is hardwired to both create AND solve the wordy puzzles within your story. Sometimes the answer is time. Sometimes it's a second opinion or a fresh eye. Sometimes a totally different approach or just a hefty kick up the bum. But whatever the problem, there IS a solution. You just gotta keep going and trust that you'll find it...
Read this: Troubleshoot your writing - why are you stuck?
And also this: Break through the writing blockage
And also also this: Write yourself into a pit (and then dig your way out again)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Alright, that's it for today. Now go write, you flithy animals.
(And if we missed anything, stick a question in our ask box or check out the rest of our shit here)
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hornyjailcantholdme · 1 month
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//Accidentally Dick Grab Part 2// NSFW WARNING 18+ (Duh)
I wasn't gonna past this but I decided to anyway because... Well it was already written so I hope you enjoy c:
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Tomas:
You are talking about your home town with Tomas when you place your hand on his thigh... Expect that's not his thigh. Tomas has been trained in the arts of Kombat and discipline but he was not prepared for...this. He tries to keep listening but the weight of your hand is just resting on it. He knows if he asked Bi-Han what to do he would tell him to smack your hand away, if he asked Kuai Liang he would say to just tell you what you were doing. But Tomas was embarrassed and his brain is fried. He doesn't know what to say and he doesn't know how to react without making a big deal about it. Surreally you didn't mean to touch him like that... Did you?
Oh god now he's even more confused and- oh god did your hand just slide up it?! Tomas instantly grabs your wrist and stares at you his face is red and he doesn't say anything. You look confused until you look down and now it's your turn to blush. Both of you start apologizing to one another until Bi-Han comes and tells you both to shut the fuck up and that y'all are being too loud. Sorry Bi-Han...
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Bi-Han:
How did you even- Know what nevermind. You are going over a map and a plan with Bi-Han about battle strategies when you accidentally place your hand on his Dick. He raises one brow, he's still listening to you. This plan is quite important afterall. But he can't help but also think about your hand presses against his cock. He doesn't stop you to tell you though, not even when your hand moves on it a little bit. He just let's you finish listening intently to the plan. And when you are finished he strokes his chin and asks if groping your grandmaster was also apart of the plan.
Groping my Grandmaster? Bi-Han what do you me- OH SWEET GODS! You pull your hand back so fast you stumble out of the chair onto the floor and roll over still clutching your hand and your face is a deep red. Bi-Han just turns and looks at you his expression unchanged as he tells you that he will assume it was an accident but next time you touch him he's going to freeze your hand and chop it off. You panick and tell him your sorry and bow like a million times before you quickly make your exit. Bi-Han sits there and subtly gropes his dick through his pants grunting about how stupid you were while faintly blushing. He liked that shit.
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Johnny Cage:
You're telling him this really neat movie idea when you... Yeah you place your hand on him and it rests on his dick. Johnny instantly raises his brows and does a half awkward smile. It's been a little while since he's been touched like this. Since Johnny is the Main character in his head he treats this as some kind of scene from a romantic comedy... Or a smut-
You notice his awkward smile and his cheeks slowly turning more pink and you ask him if he doesn't like the movie idea. Honestly he wasn't even listening after he felt the pressure of your hand on his dick. But he smiles and nods quickly saying the idea is great and to tell him more about the plot. He's really trying to not be phased by your hand, treating it like some sort of acting training (Look I don't know and he doesn't know either)
When you accidentally move your hand a little bit down to his tip is when he softly grunts and places his hand over yours gently grabbing it and kisses it. Johnny tells you he loves the idea of the movie but you need to be more careful with how you touch the future Producer. You raise your brow and then you look down at his thigh and you SEE the outline because obviously this man is semi-Bricked. You blush and start to apologize but Johnny just laughs and says "It's fine Sweetheart, no harm" When you leave he sighs and does that one Deadpool scene.
*Deep inhale and then exhale* " I'm touching myself tonight"
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oofthwoods · 2 months
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INTRODUCTION! ── ˙ ̟ the echo !!
𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 :: get to know porsche's bet for the newest legend in the making in formula one, dubbed as the echo.
𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 :: i've been absolutely hooked in @disneyprincemuke vettel reincarnated's series and i have always loved fem!drivers so i decided to give my own take on this <3. | can definitely be read as a reader insert, but the driver will driver under a specific flag and related to a famous driver! even so, physical descriptions will not be given, so you can definitely picture yourself
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our fem!driver has a few titles to her name! the most well known, echo, comes from her championship winning f3 & f2 seasons, where she was consistently the fastest driver in the grid, leaving behind only a faint trace of her presence for the other drivers to see.
other nicknames include "lightning" due to her great performances on wet races (as the media says, the only thing faster than the rain is the lightning.), "pg" (stands for both princess of the grid, which is an old karting nickname, and parental guide, given due to her young age), and the legacy.
she is the daughter of ex- formula one driver, rubens barrichello. she drivers under the brazilian flag. i picture her as the middle child, so that would place her date of birth between '01 & '04.
has a streak of four consecutive championship winning years: the italian formula 4 in 2019, freca in 2020, formula 3 in 2021 and formula 2 in 2022.
art grand prix girlie! has been with the french team for both her f3 and f2 seasons.
she was a red bull junior, but was suddenly cut from the team after her formula 3 season. helmut mark claimed that she wasn't consistent enough to justify a contract renewal, which was clearly bullshit as she had literally won the championship.
competed in formula 2 without an academy, but was in talks with porsche to join their team.
committing to her lightning nickname, she chose 95 as her number!
grew up in the paddock! her dad loved to take her around the world with him, and she became a familiar face to all crew and drivers. although she is the youngest of the current grid, she is closer to the oldest guys due to knowing them since she was very young.
outside of formula 1, her closest friends are gabriel bortoleto, felipe drugovich, frederik vesti, liam lawson and clément novalak.
within formula 1, she is closest to fernando alonso, lewis hamilton (both who met her when she was a baby), mick schumacher (her teammate at porsche), lando norris, alex albon and oscar piastri. but she is friendly with everyone, and tries to know them better — it does help that she is a social butterfly who could talk to the walls even if they don't answer.
about porsche: have been in the talks of joining the grid for a long time, and finally got their approval for 2023. they could go for veteran drivers but decided against it, placing their bets of mick schumacher, who had just been dropped from haas, and y/n barrichello, the f2 champion.
when the news dropped, it was the talk of the town! not only she would be the first female to compete in formula one in several years, but the duo barrichello-schumacher would be present again in the grid!
actually loves doing grill the grid and other challenges. some people think it's the rookie rush, but she has always loved playing those games.
has the biggest fat girl crush on susie wolff. would kiss the ground she walks if she could.
still needs a lot pr training due to amount of cursing and off-pocket things she says. apparently saying "i'll throw myself in front of verstappen's car and change the trajectory of his entire life" is not socially acceptable, neither is saying that she's plotting his accidental death.
sponsored by vivienne westwood, which she claims is probably the coolest thing to happen to her.
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somerandomdudelmao · 8 months
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I think this scene is so far my favorite part of the whole comic. Those three panels put my little writer's soul at ease. Major kudos from a storytelling point! It just accomplishes so freaking much. It highlights all of Leo's best character traits (love, strategic thinking, leadership skills), and fixes the problem of having an OP character in your story that otherwise would be able to solve the main conflict in a heartbeat. It does so much for Mikey. There is no one-person-per-portal limitation and I'll always end up wondering why they would not gather the resistance and simply take everyone and go. Sure Mikey might die or end up being left behind if he does so and of course, Leo/April/Casey would try to stop him but in the end, I feel like he would do it anyway cause as long as his family is saved Mikey does not mind. But with this clever twist, he can't do that, cause Leo would be stuck with him, alone and with no resources, and doomed. Not an option. Mikey loves his family above all. Don't get me wrong I think he'd sacrifice his own life to help everyone else (he does so already), but he would never sacrifice his brother. It's a greedy and beautiful love that always gets to me. The moral dilemma of one versus the many. Revealing the core of who you are and what you stand for. It makes him so much more real, more human. It elevates his character from good to great...
I don't know scenes like this - one willing to sacrifice himself and the other refusing - tend to come with a bitter aftertaste. But Leo is not brushing Mikey off. He says not 'no', therefore allowing Mikey's own agency to shine. And in adding his condition he still gives Mikey a choice ultimately helping to shoulder his brother's burden.
Don't get me started on Mikey's 'thank you' as a response cause I already have tears in my eyes! Here both of them bring the best out in each other and the thing I love the most is that it's never at the cost of the other.
All in all this scene is a great character moment, explains plot holes (from the movie), and did I forget something? Ah yes, sets up the upcoming conflict of Casey having to choose between them. And oh my gosh, I wouldn't want to be in his shoes. Leo's declaration to stay with Mikey makes it kinda unlikely for him to go with Casey and leave Mikey behind and though Mikey has some wiggle room in this regard, it is a decision that will not come lightly aka it hurts just to think about separating them...but then again they might even are not together in the first place. Wherever this may be. Who knows?
Thank you so much for creating and sharing this beautiful piece of art!!!
I..mhm..I mean...igdjndukvdjj sorry my brain don't want to do English words today. Thank you oh my god I don't know what to say it's just
T h i s
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jeffersimp · 3 months
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𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐖𝐇 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐚𝐲 "𝐆𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐛𝐨𝐲" 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦?
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See my masterlist here!
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×A/N×
Hey!! Yes, I know, I have some few inbox that I should answer, and don't worry, I will, just let me do a quick post here- -w-
So I'm back with the promised WH headcanons! And I hope you will like them :D
(And yes, it has a short plot now. I did it. I wrote it. ✨
×❢ About my work ❢×
Fluff fluff, all is fluff! No pronouns used for the reader, but good boy/girl mentioned, even if it's expected, there's no smut. Although Howdy is a bit teasing, but it's not r rated so •-•
Fandom: Welcome Home horror project by Clown
Character(s): Wally Darling, Howdy Pillar, Barnaby B. Beagle, Frank Frankly, Eddie Dear, The Reader|You| (Y/N) |Neighbour
Ship(s): The Characters / The Reader|You| (Y/N) |Neighbour
Form: Headcanons
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𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈: LoveGame by Lady Gaga
('cause that is next on my playlist •_•)
“Let's play a lovegame, play a lovegame
Do you want love or do you want fame?
Are you in the game?”
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(All illustration belongs to Clown!)
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Wally Darling
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It was quiet in his house, even Home didn't let out a single crack until this moment. There was just one problem. You haven't seen your dearest puppet oh so long ago. The plan was that you two will have a cuddle time together, but he was nowhere. 
You got up from the couch and carefully looked around in the house. You cautiously called out his name, but no one responded. 
You walked around in the house a little bit, hoping to find him. 
He had his own painting room where he could make his own fantasy alive with the brush. 
You walked closer carefully, not to scare him. Even so, he could actually clearly hear you sneaking up behind him, but he was more focused on the picture. 
You peaked through his shoulders to see what he was up to. 
Oh. My. Gosh. Your heart skipped a beat. He was painting a picture of you. How cute! Wally was a very talented artist and you were very amazed in this moment. He always did such a great job. 
"This looks so great, Wally! You are such a good boy!" you said quietly, while you gently placed your head on his shoulder. 
• it comes off to him like compliment
• and it's from you
• his sweetest neighbour
• of course, he is happy! ♡
• "Thank you, Neighbour!"
• he smiles at you happily, hoping that you like his work
• "Do you like it, Neighbour?" 
• omg ofc you like it! How could you not?! 
• He is so happy about the compliment and about that you're liking his work. 
• he just stares at you happily with open mouth, listening your cheerful voice while you commenting of him and his art
Eddie Dear 
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Eddie came home and you could tell, he was clearly exhausted. Poor boy, running back and forth all day, and do this job all alone, it must be tiring. 
He got down next to you, just quietly lied down on his back and put his head on your lap. 
"Hey." you said softly, curling his hair gently with your fingers. 
"Hey, love!" he looked at you with his tired eyes, but his lips still curled up into a kind smile. 
You were resting quietly in the warm room, just hearing each other's calm breathing was enough relaxing. 
"It must be hard for you to do this job all alone, Eddie." you said quietly, no to destroy this calm moment that you have been in for awhile. "You're such a good boy!" you chuckled. 
• he slowly opens his eyes, looks straight up at you
• look, idk if they can blush, but now he does it okay? 
• like his face is completely red
• he always gets so flushed when you complimenting him
• he's so flattered 
• and so damn cute ♡
• he's speechless, he can't think of what he could say
• so he just simply says
• "Oh... Erm... Thanks, (Y/N)!" 
• he will definitely give a kiss to your hands in return
• Your compliments mean too much for him ♡
(a.n: btw I love Edddie, he is such a sweetheart 🥺 ♡
He is definitely my favourite character beside Barnaby! ★) 
Barnaby. B. Beagle
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 He knew that work is tiring for you and you had a long day. He wanted to do something pleasant for you. He couldn't cook, it was too difficult for him and he didn't wanna blow up the kitchen with his tryings. So instead of cooking, he cleaned out. It was not as perfect like you would did it, but it was acceptable. He was already finished when you were standing in front of the red and blue colored door. It was easy to recognize it. It had similar colors as Barnaby and it was the biggest door in the neighbourhood. 
He opened the door with a happiest smile on his face. He was clearly missing you. He let you in and you immediately took a seat on the comfy couch. 
Just a few minutes after you had some chance to look around. The house wasn't perfectly clean, like you could still something in the conner, but it was enough to make you feel happy and greatful about Barnaby. 
"What a good boy!"
• omg i can imagine how his tail starts wagging
• I mean he's like a dog, but different, but still a dog, so what did you expect?
• he definitely loves it when you call him a good boy
• he just listens your soft and lovely voice while you caressing and rubbing his fluffy head
• he especially likes rubs behind his big ears
• will rest his head on your lap and just melt in and let you to pet and praise him
• probably will bite you carefully in an affection way
• or slobber on you occasionally
• he wants you to say it more times, so he'll try to make you proud as often as he can
• he absolutely loves it ♡
"Thank you, Barnaby!" 
Frank Frankly
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You wanted to see your partner's reaction too much to lose this idea. You leaned forward in the chair to get a better look at Frank, then you called him. 
"You are such a good boy, Frank!" 
• he looks up at you strangely and confused
• you can't help, but giggle a little bit cause the frustration
• "Well... Thank you, (Y/N)..." 
• then he goes back to his job
• probably he has to do something with those colorful bugs what are around him
• seems like he found a better company than you :") 
• you stood up and got over to him, tried not to hurt his garden and the bugs
• "But seriously, hon, I do think that you're doing an amazing job!" you said it softly as you hugged him from behind.
"Thank you, Darling." he smiles at you adorably
• he still adores you dw ♡
• but he definitely likes dear, hon, love or even darling more :D
• (btw I think it would make him uncomfortable- not sure, but I feel like- lol)
Howdy Pillar
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You rested your arm on the counter as Howdy checked your items. You watched his movements. Slowly tracing your eyes from his face down to his hands, paying attention to details as well.
"Y'know, you do so much work in this place, Howdy. Like a good boy." You added jokingly the last sentence, didn't think of it too much, though.
He stopped moving for and looked up on you. You look directly in his eyes, getting red of embarassment.
"I mean-" You looked away sheepishly. "Not like that, just... You're doing such a good job here, y'know? It must be hard to keep this place alright by yourself." you chuckled awkardly, trying to change the awkard mood that you accidently did.
Howdy was still looking at you, but he didn't seem nervous or weird out about this. He just stared at you and then suddenly his lips curled into a kind, but a teasing smile.
"Yeah, it is." he answered.
He already put in a bag the last item you have bought of him, then he gently gave the bag to you with his third hand.
"You wanna drink a quick Dark Roast with me? Or if you prefer it more, you can have orange juice, or tea." he leaned closer to you on the counter.
"Sure." you said.
He walked away from the counter as one of his hands started to lead you beside him.
He glanced at you with a smile and said
"You still have to pay, though. Don't think that I'll forgot."
• omg-
• i don't think he'll mind it y'know
• but he prefers call you a good pet/boy/girl
• he may get teasy about it
• beside that, he will treat it as a compliment (cause he really deserves it)
• call him often, he won't mind
• just please don't call him like that in public :>
• he's cool with it :D
245 notes · View notes
sordidmusings · 2 months
Text
Give (in) and Take (me) - (Beckman x Reader)
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Art by shibama_TK9
A/N: *Hasn’t completed a smut in weeks, comes back throwing a niche character at you to spread simpin for him like a virus* plz love him he’s great and while he ain’t my main I’d have nooooooo complaints in partaking 😩 tryin to give @fanaticsnail some morsels cuz the writing for this man is quite devastatingly scant. She also a whole sweetie and wrote me some perfect Buggy when she found out I was doing this. Obviously I am much slower 🥴🥴🥴
Word Count: ~8.7k
Warnings: fem!reader, NSFW, there’s some plot at the front and back, bratty reader, brat-tamer Beckman, he does the Nanami hair grab 👌🏻, semi-public, standing, against the wall, man-handling, clothed sex, p in v, creampie, praise, degredation, lots of teasing on both sides, age gap? (briefly mentioned, ~30 and late 40s), Beckman is a lil mean but don't worry he's Whipped, this some filth filth 🥴 whoops
Now please come enjoy prodding the big gruff man (who just wants to treat you right) until he snaps
(˵¯͒〰¯͒˵)
~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~
You’ve had enough of the raucous jubilation in the bar, especially now that you noticed your awaited opening unfolding before you. The rest of the Red Hair Pirates were fully distracted in their jovial whirling, hooting, and playing, leaving a certain silver smoke cloud all by his lonesome. You’d been dancing through his whisps all night, enjoying how they’d wrap and curl around you as you went. It was in their nature to do so. Each brush of a hand got a shiver and a sigh and a trailing stare. Each floated conversation was leaned into, breathed in, savored. Each departure was followed with the turn and lean of his chest, pulled to follow from the sure grip on his thumping heart until his doubts rooted him down and resisted the tug.
You were plagued by your own doubts, mostly of what the “after” would look like, but you were certain of one thing: he was attracted. Along with his need to entwine with your presence, you’d noticed the tell-tale sign of his gaze drawn to lips, neck, breasts, hips, and thighs. You’d noticed the hunger growing his pupils so they could better suck in your image on each glance. You’d noticed how he had to keep flicking his tongue out to wet his lips, mouth dry from restrained need. Most importantly, you’d noticed the way he had to shift and shuffle while he watched you dance, fighting the need to pull you away for himself to join and trying to flush the heat from his body. Whatever it was that was holding him in his seat and keeping his hands and lips and tongue off of you, you were going to drag him right through it until he was fully in your grasp.
First thing’s first, you retook your spot on the stool next to him at the bar. Immediately the smoke tendrils embraced you; your drink was scooted back in front of you, his thigh slid sideways to seek the brush of yours, a lethargic smile took residence on his face to greet you. You responded with a coy smile of your own and then a hearty gulp of your drink. The steady burn and potent taste of liquorice cutting through the muddled mint and lemon centered you and heartened you for your plan of attack.
“Thanks, Becks, glad to have you as my cocktail guard dog,” you said with teasing humor. You gave his thigh a friendly pat that crossed the amicable boundary with a lingering hold and gentle squeeze, before you brought the hand back up to give you another sip of your drink. The taste of touch on his thick muscle had it twitch in delight. Your mouth watered at the feel, not quite sated with alcohol on your tongue when there should be skin.
“Any time, darlin’,” Beckman responded easily and honestly. “Though I don’t think there’s any here who would do much to it. Much more likely one of the fools will steal it to drink for themselves.”
You laughed at the statement, knowing how true it was. When the crew was drunk they got sticky fingers, and when it came to drinks they were the worst - none quite remembering whose was whose and caring even less to get it right. Knowing where you wanted to try and get this night to go, you’d kept yourself far behind them in intoxication. You kept yourself right in the sweet spot of inebriated enough for that coveted liquid courage but not so much that you were out of control of yourself. Besides, if you got your way you didn’t want any of the details to be foggy.
“Even so, it’s appreciated,” you reasserted, giving him a winning smile and stalling his heart. “Now can I ask another favor of you?”
“‘Course you can, darlin’,” he replied instantly. Another cheer rang out in the background, followed by the beginnings of a long and loud drinking song. Beckman used this as an excuse to lean into your space to better hear and see you. “What can I do for you?”
You centered yourself more forward towards the bar, just to force him to lean in even closer to chase you, and peeked at him from the corner of your eye. The look mixed with your mischievous smile had him ready and eager to agree to whatever you had in mind. Not that he’d let you see how easy it was for you to sway him.
“Well…” you trailed off, just to make him squirm, “I can think of lots of things you could do for me. I’m having trouble picking my favorite.”
Beckman’s brows rose at the blatant flirting. Sure, you’d both thrown some flirtatious comments at each other throughout your relationship, but they didn’t feel anything like this. They felt easy, friendly - like something to build rapport and have fun. This felt so much heavier - a gift offered to him that was pulling the possibility of closeness from cloudy dreams down to the ground with the weight of the warm cast of the bar lights, the dark desire in your eyes, and the sultry tone of your voice. He began to recount how many drinks he’d had to check if he was imagining the advances he’d long wished for. Maybe he should check for you too.
“Darlin’, how many drinks you got in you?” There was genuine concern in the question, mixing with a touch of incredulity. You scoffed at it all.
“Not enough to lose my sense, thank you very much,” you answered. To snub his misplaced worries, you downed the rest of your drink. “That was only the fifth of the night, we’ve been here hours, and you know it takes much more than that to take me down.”
“That it does,” Beckmann conceded. The bare affection in his voice and eyes while he said it had you flushing, finding care much more difficult to process than lust. “Now my task?”
Yet again, you took to keeping him in suspense. Instead of answering, you slowly drew your gaze over him, assessing him. He fought against the small shiver it put through him; he felt like you were staring straight through his clothes. He felt like he was getting the most important appraisal of his life and all he had to go on was the burning in your eyes and your cryptic smile. You were doing a better job of reading him; while his expression remained perfectly schooled, you were observant enough to see his tells. Just as when he watched you dance, he shifted in his seat, working through the flush of arousal poured on him from his nervousness and having your eyes glued to him. Between the curtains of his wavy silver hair, you saw his Adam's apple bob with a strong swallow. He started lightly drumming on the bartop with his fingers on the hand closest to you.
Using that to your advantage, you made your next move. Doing it slowly so he could layer each second with his anticipation, you trailed your fingertips across the knuckles of his fidgeting hand, halting the motion. You flicked your gaze up to check in on his eyes. They mostly held confusion, but so so much interest was also packed into his silver irises. Happy with the reaction, you proceeded to move your teasing touch further, traveling over the back of his hand and his wrist to play with the soft hair on his forearm in deliberate circles. Though he was nearly bursting with questions, Beckman kept his mouth shut and resolved to let you lead this at your own pace until you finally decided it was time to reveal your hand to him.
“I’ve decided,” you started, finally breaking the silence with an alluring whisper, “that I want more than one favor.” You stopped watching your fingers touch him to look at him through your lashes. “And I know where you can start.”
Beckman blew out a long breath, hoping to settle down his heart, which was still jumping and kicking. You’re not drunk, but this has to be the alcohol. You couldn’t be propositioning him. Him. Maybe he’s just a curiosity? Perhaps you were interested in trying out an experience with an older lover who’s had more years to learn his way around a woman? Maybe, even though you could have your choice of any of the patrons, you found him to be the easy target.
“And where is that?” he asked, making sure to keep his tone steady.
“You can take me home.” You noticed the real shock in his gaze, and for the first time in the encounter a bit of panic seeped into you. Thinking quickly to soften the blow, you explained, “Don’t wanna walk home alone with even a little alcohol in me, and I know you’ll take care of me.”
“Aye, darlin’, that I will.” The honesty in his words stoked your courage back into a steady burn even better than the one brought on by the hard drinks.
Using the hand that had been trailing over his forearm, you loosely held his wrist, slid smoothly from your seat, and began leading him out of the bar. Beckman followed you easily. You didn’t have to put any pressure behind your hold on him; he wouldn’t let you get more than a step ahead of him. Even with his close hover, you both ducked and weaved with practiced grace through the chaos of your crew and the rowdy celebration they’d whipped up with all the other patrons. By the time you’d reached the entrance, you’d ducked three swinging fists, five drunken “dances”, two frisbeed hats, one flung fork, and a pair of tossed shirts.
The door shutting behind you sealed away the cacophony of the crowd, melding it with the comforting ambience of late night bugsong and strangers distantly living their lives. The outside world felt pleasantly chill and calm, especially in contrast to the atmosphere of the bar. The slight bite to the air only made the small contact between the two of you feel that much sweeter in its skin-to-skin warmth. Both you and Beckman sucked in a deep breath of crisp evening air to savor the moment. 
Throwing a cheeky (and, to his worry, slightly plotting) smile his way, you began to head in the direction of the docks. You only made it about eight steps. The moment the alley between buildings opened on your right, you yanked Beckman into the shadows with you. He stumbled after you with barely a fight, continuing his emotional flavors of the night: confused, intrigued, and happy to be here. Once you fell past the full streams of light from the street lamps, you spun around to him and pounced. 
You began by rooting him in place, fisting your hands tight into his shirt by his waist and stepping so close that your chests and stomachs and hips and thighs touched. You leaned up to place a kiss right above the point in his v-neck, relishing the heat of his skin against your lips. You shivered at the feeling of a twitch of interest against your lower stomach. His hands quickly found your waist and gripped. He worried the flesh under his fingers, earning his first quiet moan from you. It only made his grip stiffen, warring with himself between his disbelief at your advances and the rabid need to pull you closer and make sure you never stopped.
Beckman began to use his hold on you to ease you back from him. You responded with a frustrated whine and greedy hands. Those hands massaged their way across the packed muscles of his sides and chest before twisting in the fabric over his large pecs and tugging him down to your height. Taking advantage of the untouched skin now within reach, you kissed and sucked your way over his collarbone and up his neck.
His plan of retreat crumbled under your advance, leaving him to paw his grip down to the meat of your hips and try not to succumb to the fierce instinct to grind his aching cock against you. Your head spun with your rushing blood and skipping breaths. The whirl was spurred on by finally getting to know the taste of his skin, the feeling of his coveting hands keeping you close, the sound of his stuttering breaths morphing into panting. Now you just needed to spur him from receiving into action.
“Beck, touch me,” you whispered against his ear. He shivered fully from your lips and breath ghosting over him and filling his skin with addictive tingles. Losing his concentration, Beckman guided your hips in one long, sturdy grind against his straining hardness. You nipped his earlobe in appreciation. “I want you to touch me.”
“You’re drunk,” he weakly protested.
“We both know I’m not,” you shot back. Switching your methods, you crawled your hands up his shoulders, his neck, and into his hair. You led him with sweet and teasing kisses against his cheek and jaw, playing with the way his head always tilted to follow your affections in a wanting daze.
“You should look for another man to share your body,” he tried again, this time managing to sound assertive through the breathiness of his voice.
“Do you really want another man touching me?” you bit back at him.
“No,” he instantly growled. The mere idea had always put a pang in his heart but feeling your touch and hearing the words from you made it more real, and he was no match for the spike of angry possessiveness that overtook him.
“Good,” you cooed coyly, lips back against his ear, “because I don’t want that either.” You took a long moment to tease your nails against his scalp and nip the skin next to his pulse. He succumbed to another torturous grind against you. Each press of him gave you a better idea of what he was hiding and had your mind running rampant trying to figure out how it would feel splitting you open.
“I want you,” you moaned, pushing all the genuine need into your voice that you could.
“Come on, pretty thing, you don’t mean that,” Beckman stubbornly argued. He’d sound much more convincing if he wasn’t moaning the words out with his strained rumble, turning the statement into a plea.
“I do though,” you whined back to him, right below his ear where you were working hard to leave another pretty mark. For all his propriety fueled hesitation, Beckman was still leaning down so you could reach his neck and tilting his stubbled jaw away, pleading for more of your attention. “I do mean it.”
Your own desperation and his unspoken pleas for your touch fueled your boldness. One of your hands left his tresses to wedge between your pressed hips and grab a hold of him. A groan shook through his ribs, only encouraging your hand to press and feel more. His cock twitched and jumped under your slow strokes and palming, begging for your touch when he wouldn’t. His cheek fell to your shoulder and his humid panting caressed your neck.
“Pretty girl, if you keep touching me like that,” his speech was interrupted by a poorly restrained moan, “I’m not gonna be able to keep my head.”
“Then don’t,” you encouraged, voice rushed and ravenous and pulling him to the depths of his urges in his new favorite siren song.
Having felt him in your palm, you became set on getting to feel him skin to skin. You wanted to feel the power of the radiant heat that poured from him so strongly you both felt like you were burning through your clothes. You wanted to see what’s been hidden from you, become privy to secrets that will let your fantasies forever hold more reality. You wanted to know he let you have this piece of him, let you take his body and take control of his pleasure. On top of all of that, you wanted to feel, see, and know the thick hardness that was going to stretch you wide open.
In your rush, you only gave yourself time to trail a few kisses down his chest on your way to your knees. Beckman leaned himself back on the wall of the bar, opening himself up to as much of your touch as you would give. He still attempted to keep his defense under the siege of temptation, taking to opening and closing his hands at his sides to keep them from manhandling you. He wasn’t strong enough, however, to push you away. Each touch of yours was teasing him with the heaven he’d been dreaming of finding under your hands and in your body. Now having had a taste of your touch, It’d take nothing short of a gun to the head for him to break from anything you were willing to give. Doesn’t mean he won’t try to steer it so you’re taken care of the way he wants you to be.
He looked down at you, hypnotized by the radiant image of you and your styled hair and your decorated lashes and your smudged lipstick actually kissing him, treating him with the desire he thought impossible. His eyes had long adjusted to the darkness of the alley, blessedly letting him take in this image to hoard forever. 
As your knees hit the dirt path, it hit him - alley. You were getting yourself dirty to touch him, basically in public in your rush, stuck in a location with only hard ground and stone walls for comfort. The realization had his cock throb hard, getting an eager moan from you where you were kissing along his length while your fingers made their way under his sash to find the waistline of his trousers. Fuck, this was a dream. It was a dream, but not the one he wanted for you where he takes his time worshiping every inch of skin, treating you like royalty, going slow so when he makes you cum it shakes you from toes to fingertips to the crown of your head-
“Darlin’, you deserve better than some back alley fu-”
“What I deserve is you; now let me have you,” you grumbled back to him, nosing his sash up so you could leave kisses and nips right above the hem of his pants. You inched them lower and lower, following their descent with your hungry mouth and savoring every new speck of skin you could. You got past the ridge of his adonis belt when you realized he had nothing on underneath them, making your mouth water with ever more anticipation. You could tell from the tenseness in his muscles, the tremors in his thighs under your clawing grip, that he was at the end of his rope. Centering a kiss on his happy trail, you looked straight up into his eyes and ordered, “Now fuck me.”
You were just about to get his pants low enough to let his painfully hard cock out to greet with a kiss when an angry hand took hold of the hair at the back of your head. It clamped in a fist and turned, taking absolute control of you. White hot adrenaline poured through your body, bursting fresh with each hard pound of your heart and stuttering your every breath. That iron grip jerked back, forcing you to crane your head back with it and look up at the imposing bulk of Beckman looming over at you.
“You want me to fuck you?” he growled dangerously, leering down at you with a growing scowl. Steadily he curled himself down until his nose bumped yours and you were sure you could see how the lighting and lust had turned his eyes from shining silver to dark stone. The light pulsing in your scalp was no match for the shadowed face and piercing eyes of Beckman taking over your every thought and dragging your heartbeat low to drum between your legs. “Fine. I’ll fuck you like the slut you’re set on being.”
“I’ll happily be a slut if it's for you,” you breathed out before you could think, sounding nearly in a trance from his sudden dominant behavior.
The declaration had his cock jumping and his knees weak.
“Darlin’,” he moaned, voice stretched thin by his taut, straining need. “You’re going to be the death of me.”
He surged down, stealing your lips in a bruising kiss, using his hold on your hair to control every tilt and press. Right away, you opened to each other, exploring the flavor of each other’s tongues and indulging in the tingles brought on by sliding the slick muscles over each other. You shivered and moaned when he flicked the point of his tongue on the roof of your mouth and he swallowed the sound down greedily. Never breaking his claim on your lips, Beckman hauled you up to your feet. The action set a pleasant burn on your scalp as you chase the pull of his grip. Your hands went back to work on getting his cock free, but he snatched them up.
“No,” he rumbled against your lips. “You’re just going to take what I give you.”
“Beckman,” you whined back to him between your continued fervent kisses, “let me touch you.”
“Sluts don’t make demands,” he snapped in a bitter taunt. Using his height to his advantage, he pulled out of the reach of your lips. He was still able to lean down over you and keep distance, forcing you to keep your head craned back with his fist in your hair and his gaze holding you hostage. “I thought this was what you wanted.”
“I want you,” you moaned in complaint. Though your voice was warbly with want, your tone was way too petulant to be considered begging. Even so, it was testing his resolve.
“You’ll have me,” he answered gruffly. 
Before you could realize what was happening, you were flipped around and swapped, now facing the rough wall of the bar with Beckman right behind you. He had released your hair so he could trap each of your wrists to your sides. He kicked your feet to spread with heavy boots and settled eagerly against your ass. He anchored you against him by pulling on your wrists, keeping you trapped against his grinding hips. The height difference had him centered at the level of your tailbone. The feeling of having you against his cock was overwhelming, especially with the plush of your ass massaging at his sensitive balls. Quiet grunts accompanied each circle of his hips, always carried with the erotic sound of his heavy breaths.
You tilted forward and arched your hips up, seeking attention against your weeping entrance and swollen clit. The change had his dick nestle between your cheeks, the base of his cock and his tense balls giving you a small piece of the pleasure you were seeking. He stood just barely too tall for them to give any attention to your clit, causing you to shift and shimmy back into him in search of more. Despite the lack of direct stimulation, your body was still in a pleasant buzz; he felt large and heavy and hot against you and your mind was swimming in joy at how hard you made him. The open-mouthed groan you earned from him with your squirming shot enough pleasure through you to have your clit pulsing.
“On your toes, slut,” he ordered.
You listened without thinking about it and were rewarded with the new height lining him up much better to grind against everywhere you wanted him. Well - almost everywhere. Most of all you ached for him to massage you inside out, rub and dig into every slick plush space you could offer. Despite the burn already entering your calves, you tilted your ass up even higher to feel any extra speck of friction you could get from him.
Beckman’s grip on your hips was commanding, he owned your every sway and grind of your clothed cunt and ass against him. The skirt you were wearing was beginning to ride up with each thrust, exposing inch after inch of fresh skin to his hungry eyes. Both of you thanked your choice of garment as he used one hand to shove it up and over your perked ass to hang limply around your waist. It swayed and brushed your legs with each continued motion, hypnotizing Beckman for a moment. 
That moment was broken when he instead looked at your ass, smooshed high and round with each grind, your underwear cutting sinful lines across the muscle, making your skin pop around the tension in the most mouth-watering way. It had Beckman moaning from deep in his chest again and thanking whatever lucky stars he had that let him have you in front of him like this. The sight mixed with the new heat from being just that much closer to getting to your bare cunt had a flurry of possessiveness and need overcome him. He nearly bowed forward to the strength of it, but fought the call so he could keep watching your body writhe against him.
You had no doubt you were sopping wet, more than enough to make his slide in slick. Each grind of him against you had your soaked panties dragging with him, causing sharp friction that was just on the right side of too much. You wondered faintly if you were getting his pants wet too, wishing you could easily turn and see to find out. You wouldn’t have been disappointed; a steady dark spot had built on his crotch from a mix of your leaking pussy and his weeping cock. You had gotten him dripping pre-cum the moment you began kissing down his chest. It had only gotten worse with each touch, his body desperate and ready to be inside you.
Suddenly, one of his hands and his hips disappeared from you, leaving you feeling lost. Before you could stop yourself, you let out a whining moan at the loss, sounding fucked out and pathetic without either of you truly being touched yet. The small coherent part of yourself marveled at the number he had done on you.
“Don’t you worry, pretty thing,” Beckman grumbled, half placating and half condescending. The sound of shuffling fabric clued you in to his missing hand’s task. “I’ll give you just what you need.”
His large fingers hooked into the sides of your underwear, guiding them over your ass until they fell down. Your slightly spread legs had them catch on your thighs and Beckman huffed at the inconvenience.
“Stay right there,” he rumbled in warning as he crouched down. He dragged the soaked cloth the rest of the way off, guiding you with gentle cues. The slide of his fingertips down your legs sent tingles across your skin, but the delicate hold he put on each ankle to ease them out of the garment had your heart thumping. In this process his touch switched from tyrannical to reverent, making your mind sing with hope. That song only hit a great crescendo when he peppered the backs of your thighs with sweet and slow kisses.
As he rose back up and shoved the ruined cloth in his pocket, Beckman broke you both out of his worshiping trance by giving a playful and slightly mean nip to your left hip. You let out a little yelp despite yourself and he chuckled at the reaction, finding it absurdly cute. You shivered again at the throaty sound, nerves too easily tweaked from your potent anticipation. It only got worse when his hips found yours again.
Both of you moaned at the feeling of finally meeting skin to skin, immediately addicted to the wet heat and heady throb of each other. You sent your hips high with renewed vigor, spurred on by the need to chase more of the feeling of his thick cock against you. You were right about him being thick and long; his grinds spread your folds wide, exposing your entrance and clit to the sweet friction, and he laid across the length of your pelvis. It let him see the leaking red head of his cock peeking out from between your cheeks, the filthy image making his eyes roll back and an involuntary moan of “fuck, darlin’” growl out of him.
Beckman hooked his right arm around your front, nestling it as close to the tops of your thighs as he could get. It let him use your hip bones for stability in his hold, saving you from your weight crushing the limb into your stomach. The anticipation of feeling your legs bounce against his arm while he fucks you had him salivating.
He curled his arm, pulling your lower back flush to his abs. It made him take your weight, the toes of your shoes just barely scuffing the ground when you pointed them. You’d seen his insane strength before, but feeling it used on you had your body lighting on fire along with your cheering mind. Beckman’s other hand slid from your hip down and in on your thigh, spreading and lifting your leg until he was holding the inside of your knee out to the side. It left your cunt exposed to him, each grind of his further mixing your arousal with the pre-cum spreading down his cock. 
“Hold that wall and keep your voice down,” Beckman instructed, “Unless you’re such a whore you need an audience.”
You let out a complaining moan at the harsh words but still writhed eagerly against him, unable to deny how they had you fluttering in anticipation. Your hands found purchase on the stone wall in front of you, giving you a sense of balance and security in your barely supported upper body. You were close to it so your arms were bent, allowing you strength and leverage. The force behind his grinds had you sure you’d need it.
Slowly and deliberately, Beckman slid his cock from root to tip between your slick folds, threatening you with his impressive length while he made sure he was properly coated. He only stalled the movement when his thick tip found its way down to your entrance. Unable to help himself, he ground a tight circle around it, groaning out a deep “fuck” at the feeling of your cunt trying its best to suck him in. You let out another keening moan, sounding vaguely like “please”, at the realization that his head was the perfect width to stretch you out right to the edge of your limits.
Angling his hips just right, Beckman followed the catch of your entrance to start forcing his way into you. You were right about the size of him; only his mushroomed tip was in and you already felt like your hips were being pressed wider. His achingly slow sink into you let you both feel every overwhelming bit of contact, every delicious rub of soaked skin on skin. Your mouth hung open, letting out appreciative moans, even though your attempts to hold them back left them clipped and jumbled.
Beckman had to shut his eyes and scrunch his brow to handle all the sensations flooding him. You felt so goddamn perfect wrapped around him. He felt somewhere in his being that you were made to be here with each other and force bliss from your pounding hearts and bodies. He finally fell to the call to curl as close to you as possible, his temple rested on yours, his stubble teasing your cheek, and stray gray hairs sweeping down to tickle your skin.
“So, so good, darlin’,” he praised breathlessly. He made it another inch into you, offering your cunt more firm flesh to clamp down on. “You feel better than a dream -nnngh- got the perfect pussy for me.”
An unrestrained moan tumbled past your lips at his praise, brain too empty and body too happy to care about anything anymore other than him and the feelings he brought out in you. The cheering and music from the bar was loud enough to lightly leak through the walls, so you wouldn’t have worried too much about attracting attention anyway. 
He hadn’t prepped you any, but the abundant arousal sitting in your body so long loosened you up and made sure there was more than enough lubrication for him, especially with the addition of his own. His torturously slow press into you helped your body make room for him too. In fact, your pussy was so eager to open for him he felt like your walls were trying to suck him in quicker as they quaked and trembled around him. It made it near impossible to resist the urge to shove as deep into you as he could go, needing the hot grip of you around his aching cock and the pleasure of your plush ass and thighs pressed tight against his hips.
When he finally got there, you were both shaking and gasping. Your head felt light with the amount of bliss swimming through you at finally having him like this, held tightly in you while you shared your bodies. It also helped that he had you feeling so deliciously full; the press of him was potent enough to spread through your sides and up through your chest. It was the biggest stretch you’d taken but his size was just perfect, like he was built just to fit you and you him. The weight of his thick cock rested down towards your stomach, primed to massage your every favorite nerve.
“Just like that, darlin’,” Beckman groaned, starting his first pull back out of you. He continued with his slow speed to make you feel every ridge and vein in detail. Your favorite was the rim of his head dragging across your swollen walls. He sat that head just within your entrance and paused. “Bein’ such a good little slut.”
Right at the end of his praise, he shoved forward to fully sheathe himself back in you. The force of the thrust pressed the air from your lungs, creating a breathy moan, and gave you a taste of pleasure that had you certain that no matter how long he fucked you, you’d always want more of this potent bliss. You could live like this, fucked the rest of your life, just so long as he never stopped taking and touching you. He continued the strong and steady pace, needing to savor every second in your cunt, memorize every twitch and flutter. It had you whining, mind fraying under the threat of how much more he could give you.
“Beckman,” you moaned in frustration. “Give me more, I -ahhh- I need it.”
A punishing thrust had you feel him in your throat and your eyes rolled back in time with your high pitched moan. That moan turned into a rough whine when he stayed sat fully inside you instead of continuing. To tease you further, he began tight circles against you, making his pulsing cock play with every inch of your cunt, earning him a tight clench from you. This tantalizing rub continued as he moved to nip at your ear lobe.
“What did I say about making demands,” he warned, rumbling the words right against your ear. The puffs of his breaths shot goose bumps up your neck. He tilted his head down to tease his teeth over the flesh and continued his maddening little circles against you. With one leg trapped in his grip and the other barely reaching the ground, you had almost no leverage to work yourself back against him. Your abs burned with the effort as you tried to use your grip on the wall to stabilize yourself and grind back, but his iron grip was much stronger than any of your attempts.
You sobbed out a few needy moans at his continued meticulous playing with your body. Though you wanted so much more right away, that steady press of him waking up every inch of your insides was starting to build a pit deeper in your stomach than the one you were used to. Your mouth watered at the thought of what a full body high it could bring you but it felt so far away and you wanted to be smothered in pleasure now.
“Beckman,” you whined out, catching the way it made his breath hitch over your skin. “More, harder.”
Nothing changed and you were stuck spread open and suspended and at the mercy of his whims. It was the most deliciously frustrating thing you’d ever experienced, being forced to take the slow treatment. It made your body and mind agonize over every little sensation, every pulse and throb, every inch of you he reached that you’d never felt before. It made your ears take in the obscene sound of the little motions of his cock pushing drop after drop of your arousal out of your entrance to drip down his balls and your thigh. You flushed at how graphic it sounded, ears, face, and neck burning, especially with your combined heavy breaths and mixed moans and groans.
“You’re gonna have to try much harder than that, pretty little thing,” he goaded. You could hear the taunting condescension in his voice and you cursed the fact that it made your pussy spasm around him. The twitch of his cock that it earned inside you swelled your desperation to feel more from him until it swallowed your pride whole.
“Please,” you gasped, near truly sobbing in need. “Pleeeeease, fuck me harder, Beck, fuck me faster, please, just -hhhah- just need more.”
Beckman sucked harshly on your neck and set about answering your pleas. He changed right to fucking you fast and hard, making you yelp at the immediate flood of sensation. Your thigh and hips jumped in his grasp as you tried to take the onslaught. Every nerve in your pussy burned in the most beautiful way, emptying your head of any thoughts other than Beckman working your body into a quick frenzy. His teeth, lips, and tongue were decorating the sensitive skin of your neck; his hands and arm were clamped, making you feel blessedly trapped; his torso hovered on the back of yours, giving you brushes of his hard working muscles in motion; and his cock - his perfect cock - was bullying you open over and over and lighting every quaking inch of you ablaze.
Through your panting breaths and scattered moans, you could hear the wet slap of his hips against you, each impact making a little more arousal gush out of you. Being spread as you were also let his heavy balls tap against your clit with each hard thrust, ensuring every wired part of your pussy was seen to. You could barely form words but you were sure he caught the slurred praises you sent his way from how he echoed them back and kept adding more and more heat, pressure, grind, suck, and drag on you at your breathless moaning.
Stuck on the start of the encounter, he kept repeating a favored phrase to you - “So good, darlin’, such a good fucking slut”.
“Your slut,” you panted, “only -hnngh- yours.”
The pledge of ownership had his eyes rolling back and his mouth more ravenous against your skin. He needed to keep you locked to him forever, be on your skin forever, brand you as his, and have you mark him as yours.
“That’s right, darlin’,” he rasped, “only mine.”
He dropped your suspended thigh in favor of sinking a bruising grip into your hip. Your thighs clapped together with a wet smack, forcing a yelp from you as it jolted your clit. He placed an apologetic kiss on your shoulder and got right back to his tempo. The deep pressure he’d built with his deliberate grinding was now added to by every thrust, creating a shaking warning of the orgasm to come that sat from hip to hip and up to your ribs. It felt like he was fucking you just as deep, each drive of his cock seeming to replace the beating of your heart in your chest.
The new dancing on your toes had your calves, thighs, and abs working in sporadic clenches and twitches, the jerks and shifts causing pulses around your clit and into your trembling cunt. The new position made him feel all the wider as it let your labia relax around him and light up with delicious friction on each thrust in and pull out. The squeeze of your legs and muscles also put constant pressure on your clit, which Beckman would jostle with each forceful fuck into you. 
All of it was getting to be too much and you were happily drowning under the rising tide of that threatening orgasm. It was swimming through your body so thoroughly you were sure you could feel each strong thrust pull pleasure from your very bones. Every piece of you that lived between your hips felt blinding white hot and pulsing and alive and so so very good. 
The cherry on top of your euphoria were the pieces of the feeling you could hear echoed in Beckman. His voice was deep and groaning but also strained and fucked out as it whispered dark praises against your neck and shoulder. His breath was ragged and just as desperate as his touch, which was trying its best to permanently attach to your skin. His aching cock was just as responsive as your trembling pussy, dripping and twitching and jumping with each move and touch of your body.
Responding to the telling grip of your cunt clamping down constantly around him, Beckman slowed his pace slightly, focusing instead on the strength of each thrust and keeping his angle just right to drag you to your end. It accented the sound of each strong clap of his hips into yours and brought back clarity to the feeling of his thick cock spearing you. Your mouth hung open, panting and watering from the change of pace and unending pound and pull of him fucking your cunt into the shape of him.
“Beckman, Beckman, Beckman -ahh!- so cloooose,” you cried, voice thin and desperate. He cursed and moaned in response, the sound of you nearly making him lose himself and cum before you. He kept his pace pounding into you, each firm fuck lighting up your tightening walls and bouncing through your swollen folds and thighs to drum on your clit. Your head was swimming; despite your fast and canting breaths, you felt like you couldn't breathe, the air escaping you with each thrust beating a needy moan from your open mouth. The burn for oxygen only added to the tightly wound pleasure gripping you from throat to cunt, clawing tightest from your hips in, held steady between his sturdy hands. 
Your toes and fingers tingled numbly in anticipation and shook just like the rest of you. Instinct tilted your hips just a degree higher, letting the tip of his dick tap just so against your cervix, ramping the overwhelming build even higher than you thought possible. Your moans yelped out sharper and higher amid sobs of “don’t stop, don’t stop, pleeeeease”, making Beckman groan and curse in his own mind-numbing arousal and frantic fight not to cum first.
A few more thrusts blazing across your cunt and shaking deep in your gut had the tension finally burst. You felt it first in the shot of electricity from your clit down to your toes and up to your buzzing head, before the tight pulse of your muscles took over everything. You writhed and shook against Beckman as he held you like a lifeline, trying desperately to fuck you through every second of heaven you could feel instead of following you over the edge. Each jerk and clench of your body gave you more and more bliss, the squeeze of you so tight and sure that it felt like there was only room for Beckman’s large cock in your body. 
He couldn’t manage to pull even an inch out of your cunt, too weak to deny himself the bliss of feeling you cum, so he guided you through with shallow but heavy thrusts. Each tap on your cervix swelled you more and more until you weren’t sure if you had already cum or there was something else building on the other side of this endless screaming song in your nerves. Your answer came with the feeling of a snap that switched your cunt from long pulses into frantic milking down on Beckman’s jolting cock. Each squeeze was powerful enough to cause a full jerk and shudder of your hips, having you slip and grind in Beckman’s clawing hold on your hips.
“Fuck, darlin’, sweetheart, fu-uuuck, you’re too good, too much -ngah!- so goddamn perfect,” Beckman moaned out a stream of mindless praises while he shoved his forehead into the side of your neck, your only anchor in the torrent of sensation ripping through your body. After an eternity, your muscles and nerves began to relax, leaving your body feeling limp and heavy in the wake of your pleasure. You were positive nothing worked anymore except for your clit and cunt, both still drooling and twitching over Beckman’s shallow thrusts. You were thankful your closed legs kept the attention from overstimulating you fully. Beckam felt your body relax, getting an addicting sense of pride from fucking you into a limp puddle, and finally took to chasing his own pleasure.
“Need to see you,” he gasped, flipping you around and desperately pressing his twitching cock back into you. He shuddered at the relief, feeling ravenous and untethered every second he couldn’t be inside you. All his sanity was now held in the taste of your skin, the pleasure in your voice, and the sweet clench of your plush cunt. Pressing your foreheads together, he made it impossible to look anywhere but at each other. Even in the low light that managed to sneak between the buildings with you, Beckman’s silver eyes glowed while taking you in. The color looked sharper pressed thin by his lust-blown pupils and you were hypnotized as his gaze swallowed you whole. 
Seeing the needy scrunch of his brows and the way he switched back and forth between clenching his jaw and hanging his mouth open to moan freely sent fresh sparks straight down to your clit. Having your legs spread around him had his racing thrusts teetering you on the edge of overstimulation, but it was well worth the sight and feeling of him rabidly chasing down his pleasure in your cunt. He was mindless and rutting in his need, enjoying your sopping heat contrasting with your nails scrabbling for purchase on his broad shoulders. The hug of your thighs around his waist kept him close and added to the wondrously tight clench of you that seemed to spread over his whole body. He was so, so close he just needed one little nudge.
“Beckman, please, need you -hahhn- need you to cum in me,” you begged, tone broken from all your moaning.
He was kicked right over the edge, barking out a deep “fuck” at the power of the orgasm shredding through him. He jerked his lips down to yours, holding you in an open mouthed kiss full of tongue and teeth and groans. He shoved himself as close as he could get to you, trapping you near painfully tight against the stone wall with his pressing bulk, demanding lips, and throbbing cock. His dick jumped hard with each pump of hot sticky cum deep in your cunt. It warmed you inside out and mixed with the heady knowledge that you’d completely unraveled this imposing man to unexpectedly drag you into a milder orgasm of your own. Each heavy jerk of him helped guide you through your own bliss, bodies working in perfect synch to have every pump answered with a coaxing squeeze. It kept you both suspended in your mindless heaven until you’d wrung every bit of pleasure from each other that your bodies could possibly give. 
Beckman was certain that you’d sucked his very soul from him if the numb and clumsy feeling of his body was anything to go by. It wasn’t ready to listen to him, acting like it belonged to someone else and he supposed that was true; it was yours now. You’d held his heart a long time and his mind even longer, so it was only fitting that you owned his body too. 
You didn’t seem to be doing much better with being in charge of your body, eyes half-lidded and lashes fluttering against the need to close. You were a vision - your foggy and affectionate gaze glued to him from under dark lashes, the flush tinting your sweat-damp skin, your lips parted and kiss-swollen, hair a wild crown around your head, decorating your face with stray strands. He studied and admired the image of you fucked-out and languid with eagerness and reverence. You were doing much the same, enjoying his mussed silver waves of soft locks, his gently shining eyes, the hints of red on the apples of his cheeks and his chest, the heavy rise and fall of his sculpted shoulders as he tried to catch his breath.
The sound of a drinking song spiking high in volume snuck through the wall and shattered your illusion of privacy. You were both suddenly back against the side of the bar instead of whatever pocket world you had carved out for just yourselves. Beckman continued to hold you steady as he slowly let your tired legs down, your skirt following after to hang back in place. Your legs shook under you like it was your first time standing and you laughed at their clumsiness. Beckman cracked a loving smile at you, stealing your breath and halting your chuckles. Again the melody within the bar seeped out to you clearly and you laughed even louder this time when you recognized one of Shanks’ favorite tunes. While he tucked himself away, Beckman raised a brow at your cackling until he recognized the song too and added his own gentle laughter to yours.
Looking him straight in the eyes, you fought to sing along properly through your bubbling giggles.
“I took that lass and smacked her ass
Said darlin you’re comin’ with me”
He took your hips and pulled you to him, guiding you in the closest to a swaying dance that your uncooperative legs would allow. He quietly joined you on the next lines, treating you to the deep and raspy parts of his voice that lived in his chest.
“Ain’t got a hall but we’ll use the wall
Just give me an hour or three”
“What do you say, darlin’?” Beckman asked with humor dancing in the light reflections in his eyes. There was a seriousness underlying his tone in his next question, however. “Willing to give me a few more hours?”
You gave him a sweet smile but turned it coy, your attitude sneaking back as your mind stabilized. “You’ve got one to convince me to keep you.”
Beckman huffed out a laugh at your bite coming back and leaned down to kiss your forehead affectionately. He took a moment to rest his cheek atop your head, breathing in the smell of your shampoo, delicately tinged with a touch of sweat and sex. It had him shiver and start to twitch back to life. Slowly, he trailed kisses from the top of your head to the tip of your ear. His warm breath made you shiver and begin to heat again as well.
“Sweet darlin’,” Beckman mumbled, lips tickling the rim of your ear, “I’ll have you back to begging for me in half the time. Gotta show you that I don’t just know how to fuck; I can worship.”
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ystrike1 · 16 days
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Kedakaki Ookami ha Bukiyou na Koi ni Oboreru - By Touko ikura (8/10)
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The best part about this one is the villain, and that's really bad for a romance. The yandere is good. The princess protagonist is good. The art is good. It's so good that it loses the chance to become great.
Sheera and Leonheart are both great, smart, caring, attractive nobles. They don't have enough character flaws to be hot. Sheera is just a pretty princess and Leonheart is just another guy with red eyes.
The intrigue isn't bad but I think we can all agree the side characters are far more interesting than the main couple.
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It's disappointing because the first page is such a banger. It's not the usual loveless marriage of convenience plot. Leonheart is taking over the country, by force, and he expects love from his new wife. A captured and terrified princess....but....
....that's not the actual plot...
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This is the real villain. The entitled and spoiled prince Elnen. Elnen loses everything because he is obsessed with Sheera. His own father is disgusted by him. The royal family eventually abandons him. His evil scheme is born from an insane sense of entitlement...and love. Yes, this yandere villain does love the princess. He doesn't plan to abuse her. He thinks they will be the perfect couple, and yet she won't look his way.
What is the (sane) solution?
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Clearly the right choice is ASSASSINATE HER FATHER AND CONVINCE HER TO HIDE IN YOUR CASTLE WITH YOU.
Sparks will surely fly when she's isolated from her friends and family!!!
Grief is the greatest aphrodisiac.
By the way Elnen isn't one of her fiancee candidates because he scared Sheera when he was a kid. His total disregard for her feelings and needs as a little girl frightened her so much. So much so that she removed him from her suitor list even after he "matured and became a good friend."
Her father's death makes her weak.
She almost agrees.
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Sweet Leonheart steps in. He's been in love with her since childhood, but he's the better choice because umm...HE TOOK CONTROL OF THE COUNTRY SECONDS AFTER HER FATHER DIED. SO THE ONLY WAY FOR HER TO KEEP HER STATUS IS TO MARRY HIM. THE CONQUERING KING.
...but um he totally took over only to protect Sheera, because he noticed Elnen's vile intent. So he did that same vile thing but he's totally cool guys!!!
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(Like, can the author please stop making Leonheart sound sweet and innocent??? This is a fully grown man with an army. Not some smuck.)
Leonheart manages to fend off Elnen by taking over...for a minute.
Elnen immediately uses secret letters to manipulate Sheera's mother. Who is also reeling from the death of her husband. Elnen tells her Sheera will die too, if she doesn't come hide in his super-safe castle.
Sheera screams at her mother. She cannot leave! It could cause a war. Points for some realism .
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Sheera even tries to stab Leonheart, because she doesn't trust him.
He doesn't care.
It's pretty cool.
The plot is Sheera eventually realizes Leonheart isn't an evil yandere. He's a super devoted yandere. The safest kind!!!
She eventually calms down and marries him.
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His yandere backstory is very lackluster and disappointing though. He fell for Sheera because um...she's a pretty princess that's it I guess.
Elnen is far more motivated, screwed up, and flawed. He's a terrible guy. Leonheart is much more reasonable....but where is the flavor???
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Here is a snippet of the side story. Elnen has one ally. His beautiful assassin slave. She isn't his lover. She's more like a best friend, and she loves him unconditionally despite his big Sheera obsession.
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Sheera declares she hates Elnen forever when the truth is out.
BUT.
She allows him to live. Not as a prince but as a humble man without a penny. Elnen turns over a new leaf, and a couple decades later he is in charge of a new orphanage...with that slave by his side.
Leonheart kinda felt empty and boring by the end.
Sheera is....good???
Good???
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this may be hard to answer because we don’t actually know the characters too well yet, but what do you think vox and val actually *love* about eachother? it seems like it’s more than just sex between them, and i’m curious to know what you think their relationship is like outside the toxic or sexual parts
Anon, to me it is not hard to answer at all, I think about it constantly 🩵❤️ of course all I write is based mostly on my headcanons and interpretations.
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So... What Vox loves about Valentino? First and foremost, he makes him feel free. Vox is very self-conscious; he has a lot of internalized shame that he tries to cover with his grandiosity and fake smile. Valentino is unapologetically himself, and no matter how annoying it can be, Vox admires it. He's like the least judgmental person, and except for his temper tantrums, he's quite chill. Vox can't handle something? Val doesn't care; he still thinks his boyfriend is smart and will figure shit out eventually. Vox discovers he's into some weird, socially unacceptable kink? Great, they can try it. Vox rambles for hours about sharks? Good, he has a passion; Valentino likes people with passion, he will listen, he likes his voice anyway. Vox, who has spent his whole life crafting this perfect narrative about himself, cherishes the opportunity to feel comfortable enough with other people (a lot of these things apply also to his friendship with Velvette) to act like an absolute idiot around them.
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Also, I think Valentino can be a really amazing boyfriend - he can be funny, charming, and mindful of the other person. That's his whole thing; he deals with desires, and that's why people get addicted to him so quickly. In most cases, it inevitably ends with him taking absolute control over the other person and becoming abusive. But Vox is his partner, so he gets just those nice bits because Valentino knows he wouldn't be able to put him down like he did with Angel. Not that he'd want to; he likes having a partner who's equal to him, whom he can break only if he allows him to do so (yes, my reading of them is very BDSM-ish, don't @ me). Valentino wants to be loved, he loves the idea of love, surrounds himself with hearts but at the same refuses to adjust to societal norms in the way that makes him unlovable; every person he ever loved (in his mind, his obsessive desire equals love) rejected him eventually after he revealed his true nature to them. But not Vox. Vox accepts him as broken as he is, and despite all his toxicity, Vox is reliable, he's the most stable part of Valentino's life. He has the patience to deal with his mood swings, he can always find the solution when Val messes something up, he's willing to accept all the attention Valentino wants to give him, and he supports his passions (ruining lives, making weird porn and abusing people).
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Essentially, their love is largely about finally finding the other person who is as bad as you are, who accepts you no matter what and helps you grow (become an even worse person).
And some additional things:
Valentino really likes how smart Vox is. He himself is impulsive and acts instantly on his urges because violence is always an answer so he's kinda impressed when Vox presents him with some elaborate plots.
Vox loves Valentino's creativity, aesthetic, and attention to detail. He really likes nice things, but he lacks the ability to understand the nuance that is necessary for creating art.
They both enjoy each other's sense of humor.
Vox really likes that Valentino is kinda dumb? He can take care of him, and he likes taking care of people because it allows him to prove himself as The Best Boyfriend. He doesn't necessarily gets the idea of unconditional love, so the fact that he has an opportunity to earn it makes him feel more secure in their relationship. That's also why he loves spoling Valentino with gifts which is perfect because Valentino loves being spoiled.
Valentino likes being a little silly when he's with Vox. At work he can't manage people with his competence, so he does it with fear. But yelling and throwing people around is exhausting; he sometimes wants to bedazzle his gun while watching some trashy reality TV and bitching about his hard day at work. It's okay because Vox is also a little silly.
Valentino generally helps Vox live life more. He helped him come out of the closet (in my headcanon Vox for his whole life struggled with internalized biphobia); shows him that emotions other than anger are acceptable and don't mean weakness; even small things like always insisting on getting nice meals (while Vox could live his whole life on black coffee and rice) or decorating their apartment with fancy yet useless stuff.
They're both power-crazy maniacs, so the idea of being with someone who is widely desired by others and could destroy them if they wished is just so incredibly hot.
Vox | Valentino | What they hate about each other
If you liked these you should definitely check out my fic
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teardrop-scales · 18 days
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Macaque x Reader headcannons 🌙🎭
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A.N: Okay, I'm not dead, hooray! I just lost motivation for LMK. This is just an exception because my bestie really loves Macaque, so this is my gift for her; PLEASE NOTE THAT REQUESTS ARE STILL CLOSED. Also, my bestie is the author of the art (@kiss-my-ass-2137 - that's her blog btw). One more thing: please beware that my Macaque may be ooc as hell. Also note that the reader is based on my bestie, so this is quite specific and may not be everyone's cup of tea. Not proofread.
I can see him calling you 'plum', 'babe', 'gem' or 'sweetheart' often. However, contrary to Wukong, he also quite often calls you by your name. To him your name sounds pretty and he likes using it just as much as he likes nicknaming you.
He adores how social and outgoing you are. Sometimes Macaque just can't understand how you manage to get along with practically everybody, but that is one of the traits that made him fall in love with you.
He makes sure that you always have VIP seats and access to each of his shadow plays.
Like Wukong, Macaque is also a flirt, but he's a lot more suave and suggestive than Monkey King.
He tries not to get jealous each time you give someone else your attention and have fun with someone else. However Macaque is a pretty jealous person, so most likely he will just stand brooding in the corner, maybe sometimes let a small smile of adoration at seeing you socialize so easily.
But thanks to that, Macaque always feels like the most special person on the planet each time you give him your undivided attention.
By the way, congrats for making this man fall for you. He has a lot of trust issues and is usually pretty closed off underneath that flirty and sassy exterior. So making Macaque fall in love with you is by no means an easy task.
You have to be patient with him; give him some time to open up and try not to rush him. It may take some for him until he becomes comfortable enough to do all the lovey-dovey things that couples do, especially with touch. But he's trying, I promise you.
He may not look like he is, but he is attentive and caring.
He wants to know everything about your interests and hobbies, no matter what they are. Macaque wants to know all about the things that make you happy.
You have a favorite movie or cartoon or whatever? Great, he'll watch it.
You play games or video games? Well, I don't really see him as a big fan of that, but... He once saw you play Genshin Impact. You mentioned that game to Macaque a few times before, but this was the first time he'd seed you actually play it. The graphics and designs of the characters mesmerized him + he knew you loved it so he decided to give it a try.
You helped him a bit in the early stages, but surprisingly or not, Macaque got the hang of it pretty quickly. Like a natural.
He loves this game (I think both Wukong and Macaque would love genshin, but for different reasons probaly). Especially lore, character's stories and the plot. Don't get him wrong, the fights are cool, but Mac is a theatre kid. Of course he's going to focus on and like the plot more, especially since genshin is quite well thought out and interesting in that aspect.
Macaque will also gladly watch all your favorite shows and movies with you. He loves how passionate you are about them.
He likes going out for dates, but because of his sensitive hearing, he prefers more quiet places, or dates around nature or something like this.
He will roll his eyes if you throw any suggestive jokes at him, sometimes if he's in a good mood he may retort with one of his own. That also applies to normal jokes and general banter.
Macaque will also immediately offer to deal with any person who wrongs you or makes you upset. But knowing Macaque, that wouldn't end well, so please stop him from that. Tell him that you appreciate it but don't let him find that person.
What's that? You ride on horses? Well, consider him impressed a bit. He won't try it himself no matter how hard you try to convince him, but as long as there's not many people around and he's free at the time, he'll watch you do it. He may even use his shadow portals to save you from falling off a horse; he'll create a portal to shorten your landing.
Also, he'll often use his powers to suddenly appear beside you without warning. He likes to sneak up behind you and say 'boo' or something like that. He'll chuckle if he manages to surprise you.
But he won't use his shadow portals to teleport you to him without warning you first or your permission. He actually respects you and knows that you may be doing something important and that you have other matters to attend to.
Like I've mentioned, he has sensitive hearing. And while he can control that so he doesn't suffocate as much in daily life, he'll be grateful and will appreciate it if you watch the tone and volume of your voice when around him. He'll say it's not necessary, but on the inside he'll love you forever for being so considerate.
May not be a big fan of cuddling at first. He'll allow it but he'll be very stiff at first and only over time Macaque will get used to it and will start to enjoy cuddling with you.
He knows what kind of effect his voice has on you. And he'll use that knowledge to his advantage, often teasing you by speaking right into your ear with a low, almost husky tone or chuckling smoothly right by your ear.
Like I said before, this man probably has severe trust and abandonment issues. But that will only make him even more dedicated to you. He wouldn't want you to feel like he used to feel deep inside before he met you.
Overall, I think Macaque would be a very good and dedicated boyfriend if you give him time and show him that he can trust you.
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HAPPY PI DAY :D
Month 3, day 14, I don't know what I'm figuring out but I'm figuring it out. Something now makes sense, but I don't know what makes sense. It's been that kind of day today :P
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sciderman · 2 months
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Gwen Stacy was 100 gazillion percent not dead before Peter’s web reached her??? What killed her while she fell? THE AIR????
and here begins one of the more hotly debated topics in spider-man comics canon - what killed gwen stacy?
(i could make a video essay about this)
goblin says that the shock of the fall alone is enough to kill her
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and honestly, i don't think that sounds fake. like i mean, i've never been thrown off a bridge before but like, the shock of that could probably kill me. i don't think that's fake at all. i'd have a fucking heart attack mid-air. yeah.
but there is the pointed. snap.
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so, really, regardless of whether gwen was already dead or not, the snap is a reality. if she was alive or dead, it doesn't matter, so if the shock of the fall didn't kill her, the snap would've.
i kind of don't know why norman would say she was dead before the webbing reached her. it seems more in norman's diabolical brand to double down and tell peter that his webbing IS what killed gwen. but i think maybe this is another case of the writers and artists not being on the same page - same as how it's described as the george washington bridge
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but the artists didn't get the memo. that bitch is not the george washington bridge.
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that bitch is the brooklyn bridge!!
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headcanon that i guess in 616 the brooklyn bridge is called the george washington bridge. sure. why not.
i figure the gwen "snap!" thing is another instance of the writers and artists just being on distinctly different pages. there's this very funny workflow in comics where they kind of give the artist a rough outline of the plot and the final dialogue isn't actually written until the comic is pencilled so there's always, always miscommunications between the writers and artists. where the artist draws the brooklyn bridge but the writer thinks it would be fun if actually it was the george washington bridge after the fact because get it. norman loves money. but in the synopsis it didn't actually matter what bridge it was so the artist just drew whatever the fuck bridge!!
so. i think it's the same with the snap. in the synopsis it probably says "gwen dies in the fall" - artist interprets it as whiplash, and draws it so. writer has the idea that actually, it's the shock that kills her. synopsis says "dies in the fall" and it doesn't actually matter how. point is she dies! however the fuck!
i'm honestly so obsessed with the running gag in spider-man comics where you know the writers and artists are on different pages. in two separate rooms doing two separate things. rereading the comics is so funny when you know that weird workflow and you see a scene where the art is saying one thing and the words are saying another. almost like a 4kids dub.
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that's why you get such great moments such as the panel that has caused the most outrage in my activity feed. the brown/blue pants debate.
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HIS PANTS ARE BLUE!!
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nonbinaryeggrolls · 2 months
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When Someone Tries to Touch Your Hair
JJK men x gn black!reader
I had this idea for a little while and I absolutely love it. As someone who has to literally fight off ppl with a stick to keep them from basically "petting" me, I thought it would be so cute to write about the JJK men sticking up for you
Warnings: Fluff!, no nsfw but MINORS ARE STILL NOT ALLOWED GO AWAY, angst in Gojo's, specified braids/locs/twists in Toji's, unwanted physical touch, I think that's it!
Starring: Nanami Kento, Toji Fushiguro, Gojo Satoru
MINORS DNI. AGELESS AND MINOR BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED
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Nanami Kento
Of course he remains calm, he's always calm. but trust, inside he is BOILING with anger
Kento adores your hair, it sounds weird but he loves watching you on wash day care and tend to your hair with such detail and precision. Apart of it is so he can learn to do it himself one day so you won't have to spend so much time doing it yourself
He's always buying the best products for you no matter how expensive he knows black hair care products can be.
Design Essentials, Creme of Nature, Mielle, jojoba oil, tea tree oil, hair masks, curling cream-- you name it (or even glance at it in the store) he's already bought it for you
So seeing someone disrespect you by even attempting to touch you makes him absolutely livid
Kento: "I don't know I didn't think it was all that great, the plot didn't really make a lot of sense." Kento said as you two walked out the doors of the movie theater.
Y/N: "What?! I thought it was good, you're always hating on superhero movies you're like an old person. Oh! the boba place closes at 9:30 did you still wanna--
"Oh my gosh I just have to ask who does your hair? It's so pretty!" A young woman around your age popped up from behind you guys, her intensity kind of startling you a little bit
Y/N: "Oh, thank you that's so sweet! I actually do it myself" you smiled and she looked at you in astonishment
"Really? Wow it looks like it was done by a professional, I bet it takes you so long!"
Kento's eyebrow raise and body stiffen in an almost defensive way, he was already anticipating what was coming next
Y/N: "Yeah, sometimes it can. It kind of just depends on how tired I am that d--
Your body leaned back as she reached out to grab the top of your head. Kento wrapped his arm around you and pulled you back by your shoulders, shooting daggers at the woman as if she had just committed an unforgivable act
Kento: "Please step back. You don't need to touch them to compliment them." he reprimanded and held a firmer grip on your shoulder. He wasn't going to yell at a woman he didn't know but he sure as hell was going to get his point across
"O-oh Im sorry I didn't mean anything by it. I just think it looks really ni--
Kento: "Then you can think it's nice from a distance, they're not a dog. Have a good night." Kento intwined your hand in his and led you away to the car. You looked up at him and a small grin grew across your face
Kento: "Don't look at me like that."
Y/N: "You're like a guard dog. Like a snappy little golden retriever." you giggled before planting a kiss on his jaw which he returned with one on the top of your head
Kento: "Cmon lets go get boba."
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Toji Fushiguro
Rage, Rage, and more RAGE
The anger that fills this mans body when someone tries to touch you is immeasurable, ESPECIALLY if its a man
Sometimes you have to calm Toji down when someone tries but its no use, he's already out of his seat and practically ready to kill
Toji is definitely someone who values his personal space, so he completely understood your frustration when you talked about how crazy it is that some people think its okay to try and touch you without permission
He's only seen it happen a few times, thankfully most people had common sense. But there was always that one asshole that crosses the line
You and Toji were out on a late night supply run getting items for Megumis science fair project. You roamed through the aisles of the arts and craft store filling your basket with acrylic paint, styrofoam blocks, construction paper and glue sticks
Toji: "What kind of fifth grader does a science project on soil erosion? Can't we just do something normal like a volcano or something?"
Y/N: "Are you gonna keep complaining all night or are you gonna actually help find everything on the list?" You turned around mad dogging him, both of you were tired and a little bit cranky and snappy at one another. Most of it was playful but some of it intended
Toji: "You look like a pig when you scrunch your knows like that." He chuckled attempting to pull you in for a kiss
Y/N: "You bitch-- Go get someone to open the spraypaints for us!" You said shoving your hand in his face and pushing his head back. Toji sauntered away to find the nearest employee to assist you guys
You stood alone in the aisle for a few minutes scrolling through instagram to pass the time until Toji came back, until a tap on your shoulder caught your attention. A random man, had approached you attempting to spark a conversation. Your eyes jotted back and forth around the area wondering where tf could Toji be and why was he taking so long to get back
"You got a really pretty smile you know that? Pretty hair too, you do this all by yourself?" He asked and took one of your (protective style)'s in his hands
Toji: "Now you..." Toji came up behind the man and planted a firm grip on his shoulder, "...are way too ugly and way too short to think they'd ever want someone like you to touch them. Don't you think?"
The man trembled in place at the vast size difference between the two
"I--"
He couldn't get a whole sentence in before Toji pulled him back by his hair then slammed him head first into the shelves next to him, making the man scream in pain. The star captured the attention of multiple employees and needless to say it wasn't long until you were being led out of the building by security.
Toji: "Did I do too much again?" He asked from the passenger seat, knowing full well he didn't regret his actions
Y/N: "We just got banned from the store, what do you think Toji?"
Toji: "Are you mad at me?"
Y/N: "Yes I'm mad!"
Toji: "Mm. The blush on your face doesn't look like someone who'd be mad at me." He grinned and you tried to hide the smile that started to form
Y/N: "Shut the fuck up."
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Gojo Satoru
Gojo unfortunately was very ignorant to the topic at first
Maybe it was a cultural difference but when you told him people would ask to touch your hair he thought it wasn’t that big of a deal
“If someone admired your hair so much that they want to get close to it shouldn’t that be a compliment to you? It’s like they’re complimenting an artist for their artwork right? I don’t really see the harm in that, I touch Getos hair all the time and he's fine with it.” He said once before
Nonetheless it led to a very heated argument
He didn’t understand all the fuss around it, that was until he saw it actually happen
Seeing how physically uncomfortable you get when someone you don’t know tries to “pet” you put it all in perspective for him
Y/N: “Gojo, hurry we’re gonna miss the train!” You shouted as you ran through the subway station
Gojo: “I’m coming slow down! I don’t wanna drop anything.” He followed closely behind carrying the other bags of groceries you guys got from the farmers market
You both managed to slip through the train doors in time before it departed. You two managed to find two seats by the window, it was a preferred spot that way you both could gaze upon the countryside greenery as you passed on your way back to the city. Gojo leaned against the window and you leaned against his shoulder, the both of you trying to get some rest after a full day of walking.
The train stopped at its next spot to let on a few more passengers and a tap on your shoulder shook you out of your rest.
“Can i touch your hair?” a young woman behind you asked, but she had already reached out her hand before you could even answer. You pulled back before her hand could touch you
“Oh, um no please don’t do that…” you awkwardly said and turned back around. You looked over at Gojo who you know heard everything but was undermining the situation yet again
Gojo: “Calm down she didn’t mean anything by it, go back to sleep.” He dismissed you, not even bothering to open his eyes as he still laid against the window. You let out a low scoff and laid back against your seat instead of Gojos shoulder like you were before
The next few minutes we’re quiet as you dozed back off until you heard a loud camera click and could hear the girl frantically trying to turn the volume down
Y/N: “Did you just take a picture of me?”
“Oh it wasn't a bad one I was just sending your hairstyle to my friend I think it’s cute.”
Y/N: “I don’t care. Don’t take a fucking picture of me if—
“I didn’t even touch you so calm the fuck down…this is why no body likes to compliment you people anyways. You take everything too goddamn seriously.” she muttered the last bit under her breath but still loud enough to pick up. This sentence being the one that finally caught Gojos attention
Gojo: “What was that?” He stood up towering over the young woman
“I-I didn’t say anyth— I’m s-sor—
Gojo: “Shut up. Delete it. Now.” His eyes pierced through her and she scrambled to reopen her camera and delete the photos. She flipped the phone towards his face to show that they were no longer in her folder
Gojo: “Now go to a different seat. And if you touch them against i’ll smash that stupid fucking phone into the fucking concrete.” The young woman ran from her seat to the other side of the train as quickly as possible and Gojo sat back down. He attempted to put his arm around you but you wanted no part in it, for the next 30 minutes you ignored every attempt he made to get a word out of you. Even on the walk home you were cold
Gojo: “Y/N if you don’t tell me what’s wrong I can’t fix it!” he said as you entered your apartment
Y/N: “IVE TOLD YOU WHATS WRONG BEFORE. YOU DONT LISTEN!” you yelled, something he rarely heard you do, “I told you countless times before that people trying to touch me is a reoccurring problem for me and what did you do? You belittled me and made it seem like no big deal. Why did it take someone being blatantly racist towards me for you to actually start caring? Why did I have to prove the problem to you?” He looked back at you with no words just a stunned expression as he struggled to find the right thing to say
Gojo: “I…I don’t know. I’m sorry.” you rolled your eyes at his lackluster reply and turned away to the bedroom
Y/N: “Whatever. I’m going to bed.”
Gojo: “Y/N, wait I—
you slammed the door in his face before he could finish his sentence
story belongs to @nonbinaryeggrolls
do not steal
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susansontag · 8 months
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studio ghibli ranking list let’s go
(will include nausicaä and the red turtle)
the these-are-actually-bad section:
24. earwig and the witch
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actually the only one I haven’t watched so it’s cheeky to put it here. but I won’t be watching it and no one will blame me.
23. ocean waves
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who sincerely cares about these teenagers they’re so annoying. if the boys had been gay it would have honestly been homophobic.
22. pom poko
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this film is about shape-shifting raccoon dogs waging a war on humans and there’s copious jokes about their testicles. so on paper a perfect film. execution wise it’s so long and so boring and you care about none of them.
the cure-for-insomnia section:
21. tales from earthsea
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hayao miyazaki was right to walk out of this one even though he probably is a terrible father for having done so. some of the animation was really nice but these protagonists made me yearn for the ocean waves cast because at least they have semi-personalities.
20. castle in the sky
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proof miyazaki was judging his son too hard for earthsea because this is basically his version of the same thing: a nice idea with good animation and the most boring boy/girl protagonists imaginable. has got that whimsy he does so nicely however.
the passable-films section:
19. the cat returns
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but should he have? was that really necessary? has a scene of cats walking in a procession on their hind legs though so that’s a plus.
18. arrietty
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visually gorgeous but otherwise a very run-of-the-mill adaptation of the borrowers, which in something that should feel wondrous is less than ideal.
17. my neighbors the yamadas
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some harmless and inventive fun that you can put on in the background whilst eating lunch or doing some light yoga stretches.
the don’t-harm-me-I’m-right section:
16. howl’s moving castle
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yes I do in fact understand the intricacies of the plot and I still don’t care. this is one of ghibli’s messiest films for sure, it can’t decide what it wants to be or focus on and the plot just seems to happen and then not happen for no good reason. I also think howl’s a whiny bastard and hate that sophie has to mother him and endure his contemptible man tantrums. a shame because she’s actually cool.
15. grave of the fireflies
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it was sweet but I’ve watched more moving animated films set in war-time, even. I don’t have much desire to watch it again honestly but maybe I will at some point.
the this-is-getting-there section:
14. the red turtle
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I liked it! an acquired taste but I really felt the harshness of the elements and the cruelty and the love. it's also very beautiful to look at, one of the most visually arresting ghibli productions.
13. only yesterday
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a tale of two films with this one. the parts where she's a young girl are much more interesting, but if this had stuck the landing and it'd been more even overall, could have potentially been a favourite. alas.
12. the wind rises
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a genuinely weird one in ghibli's lineup, in which miyazaki meshes two different stories together (one of inventive 'genius' and a doomed love story, respectively) in a likely attempt to try and grapple with his having chosen his career over all else, including family (noteworthy is that his wife was not able to retain her career as an animator). as a piece of art it's less whimsical and more mature than many of these films, but I struggle to not let my distaste for what it potentially represents get in the way of my appreciation for it as a film, but it's so blatantly personal that it's impossible.
the that-was-just-a-good-fun-time section:
11. nausicaä of the valley of the wind
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aesthetically one of the coolest films on this list but I don't remember the story as well. great protagonist too. must have been great to experience when it first came out in the '80s.
10. porco rosso
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I love this film about a tomboy mechanic and some pilot guy who went off to war and was so changed he is now a pig. watching it feels like if the mediterranean was so small it fit into your back pocket and was also populated by all your friends all your enemies and your ex-lover also.
9. from up on poppy hill
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I found this one boring the first time I watched it but it really grew on me with subsequent rewatches. I really like her predominantly female household and the community they share in the backdrop of the rest of the drama is sweet. the bit of drama midway through is still batshit though but in a loveable, disney-would-never way.
the near-perfect section:
8. the tale of the princess kaguya
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probably takahata's magnum opus with the studio, if slightly overlong. folktales are tricky because they tend to feel moralistic and the characters one-note if you're not willing to build on them but kaguya herself feels very spirited and alive. the prettiest on the list too I'd say.
7. my neighbor totoro
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cozy late summer comfort film. perhaps even more special now because I was able to see the london production. cute!
6. when marnie was there
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surprised this one has ranked so high for me but that's the power of tomboy lesbians heck yeah etc. also the fantastical element of this one is so up my alley and touches upon a particular kind of childhood nostalgia I have of being in old houses and imbuing them with magical qualities. the image of anna facing the house across the marshland is burned into my retina.
the I'd-die-for-her section:
5. princess mononoke
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aesthetically too cool for school and has one of the best ghibli villains and female characters (lady eboshi). they really said all the spirits of the forest are going to die in this one but well it was a nice thought.
4. ponyo
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my comfort movie of all-time! heartwarming! with another great female ghibli character in lisa, sosuke's mum who is legally allowed to drive like that apparently. also one I actually watched for the first time in my childhood when I was around 7 or so at an after school club. the subtitles taught me the useful and now underused gem of a phrase "bog off".
3. kiki's delivery service
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asks the important questions such as: what if you were a young witch from a dying tradition who moves to a gorgeous town in sweden? what if your remarkable gifts were no longer appreciated due to rapid advancements in aviation technology? what if you could live in a bakery?
2. spirited away
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when you're just a timid child who is scared of admittedly a lot and your parents manage to mess everything up spectacularly so now you're forced to work at the age of twelve for people who steal your identity. still one of the best honestly they may never top this as the peak of their artistic achievement.
1. whisper of the heart
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have you ever been a struggling artist? have you ever been in love? have you ever been obsessed with john denver's take me home, country roads? in all seriousness love a story of two artistically inclined people inspiring each other and this has a unique feel compared to other ghibli films forever favourite probably. it feels like basically no one has watched it and that's a shame. rest in peace yoshifumi kondō.
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viviennevermillion · 1 year
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With an s/o who is a writer
notes: so we have this now
contains: character x gn!reader, established relationship
characters included: leona kingscholar, rook hunt, idia shroud, malleus draconia
warnings: none
dark content creators & consumers do not interact
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Okay so Leona is like, the last person in the cast who'd be into creative writing if it wasn't for the fact that he was dating a writer but he's supportive. He's got the spirit. Even if he has different priorities.
Literally comes into your room, sees you sitting at your laptop and working on a story and he's like: "Are ya winning?" He pulls a chair next to yours and rests his head on your shoulder, looking at your draft with you. "Tf am I supposed to be winning?", you chuckle and ruffle his hair, gently scratching his ear in the process. "I don't know, the recognition of the internet people or something. You were the one who said 'Spite can be a great writing motivation' if I recall correctly", he shrugs and presses a kiss to your cheek. "It's not a competition, you know?", you laugh and get up, shoving your chair to the side to sit on Leona's lap instead.
He doesn't mind just wrapping his arms around your waist and letting you sit on his lap while you write. He'll read along and rest his head on your shoulder from behind, wrapping his tail around you as well. Now you have a clingy oversized cat attached to you while you work on your latest project. Congrats. He probably falls asleep halfway through, not that you'd mind.
It took a while for you to feel comfortable to show Leona your writing, because the second prince of Sunset Savannah could be quite the judgemental person. Leona would never mock anything you cared about as soon as he started dating you but seeing his demeanor towards other people still made you hesitate. But Leona has been supportive of you ever since you talked to him about your passion, even if he doesn't quite get it. Honestly be glad Leona isn't someone who'd ever start writing because he's inspired by you, he would turn this into a competition.
If you post your works online, Leona makes an account on whatever platform you post them on solely to follow you and support you. If you work on something for several hours and get less notes than someone with two paragraphs Leona is more frustrated than you.
He originally just wanted to support you but he finds himself surprised at how the plot of your stories actually intrigues him and he's curious what happens next.
If you write poetry, he's less involved. He just doesn't get poetry. He's like "why don't they just say what they mean?"
If you ever get Leona to write anything it'd be literate roleplay. Only joins because you asked him but gets really into it halfway through. Wants to make his character cool and wants him to fight the other characters. He's like "this is my character, he's a king and he can do whatever he wants-"
Leona's stylistic device is using poetic descriptions in the same sentence with words like "bastard" and "shitfaced" and he somehow manages to actually pull this off
You took him to tabletop night with Idia and Azul once and he got himself perma-banned from Board Game Club because he fucked with their nerves so much that they never wanted to see him there again.
He's worried you might be mad at him at first. "Nah it was kinda funny", you reassure him, "though if we ever do this again it should probably just be the two of us..." Leona chuckles and pulls you close, pressing a kiss to your temple.
Rook writes poetry himself and he loves the arts so he's so on board with this.
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But, listen. Rook is that one reader every writer wants but few of us actually get. He reads literally anything you write ever and he responds by sending you like a whole essay of his thoughts on the characters and the plot in depth and how it made him feel.
"Beauté", Rook tears up and pulls you into a hug, kissing your forehead enthusiastically, "I must thank you, mon chéri / ma chérie, by sharing the work you put your heart into with me and presenting me with the result of your creativity and passion; you have made my heart feel a little more complete and my mind more enlightened. Because you have chosen to let me view the beauty that is your prose and poetry, every day I get one step closer to truly call myself le chasseur d'amour! Truly extraordinary!" He takes your hands into his and looks deeply into your eyes as he tells you this; like he's confessing the full extent of his love to you. He cups your cheeks and kisses your lips softly, trying to convey all the feelings that overwhelm his heart and that words would never do justice to you.
He will gush about your works to Vil and Epel so much that they are tired of hearing about it.
He’d be happy if you tell him your thoughts about his poetry too. He writes a lot of it but he doesn’t really have anyone to talk about it with because most people just don’t get his poetry. But if you keep an open mind and give him some appreciation for what he wrote, Rook is so thankful and excited.
He’s so excited for anything new you write. “Feel free to notify me immediately once you’re finished with your newest chef-d'œuvre, even if it’s the middle of the night and I am asleep”, he smiles at you and kisses your hand. 
He’s not kidding, btw
He wakes up in the morning to see you snuggled up against him and he gives you a kiss on the forehead, waking you up softly. “Ugh…just 10 more minutes”, you groan and bury your face in his chest. Rook chuckles and runs his fingertips up and down your back. “You seem very tired, mon cœur”, he whispers and presses a kiss to your lips. You kiss back gently and wrap your arms around him. “Were you working on your newest oeuvre d'art until late at night again?”, he asks and shakes his head. He loves everything you make but he’d rather have you well-rested and comfortable. You confirm his suspicions with a tired nod. “Well, did you finish it?”, he asks. “Yes”, you mumble and try to hide from the rising sun by burying your face in his neck. “Didn’t I tell you to wake me up, so I can read it?”, he gets up and turns on your laptop, carrying it over to the bed so you can enter the password. “I thought you were exaggerating”, you shrugged and opened your finished project. “When have I ever exaggerated?”, Rook asks and wraps an arm around you while his eyes wandered across the document, “you should know best that all I express towards you is nothing but raw, unfiltered honesty.” You sigh. “Right, you have a point.”
Getting to read your newest work literally makes his day. Rook is your biggest fan definitely.
Okay you can't tell me Idia doesn't write fanfiction or at least read it. That man has been through every genre of fanworks.
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You write? He admires that. You write fanfiction? Even better.
Send him soul-crushing angst of his favorite characters please, his reactions are so funny. He's like "why would you do this to my poor otaku heart HEFHHSJEHFHSBFDBSNFXNNENNSNR 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭"
He will literally commission you or request from you to write his ideas and surprise him with something he'd love.
He'd be like, kicking his legs and text you his live-reaction.
Idia is one of those people who request from you and make it so hyper-specific that you need to read into the lore of an entirely new game or anime just to even understand what exactly he wants. He'd send you "Can you write angst with this character if his love interest had the blood curse from the hit-game 'Below the 2nd Temple' but if the blood curse made you seek out the 5 goblets of wisdom and then drop dead. What would be their reaction to the one they love dearly leading such a pitiful existence? Oh and can you make the dragon from the sequel 'Below the 3rd Temple' appear at the end when the love interest runs out of horvathian gemstones?" and you sit there like what the fuck did he just say????
He's like "oh it's all on the official forum lore section" as if you're going to read in-depth lore for a game you never played just to write his angsty crossover AU.
"Why don't you write it yourself at this point?", you look at him and sigh. "But I love your works", Idia wraps his arms around you from behind and kisses your cheek repeatedly, pulling you into his lap.
He will absolutely try to bribe you into writing it. He'll offer you kisses and a nice, warm bath and a massage....whether you fall for it is up to you.
But he's so happy when he gets the final result. He geeks out about it to Azul who understands even less about the request than you when you first started working on it.
Idia would also do semi-literate and literate roleplay with you online.
Overall loves that you're a writer and will support you whenever you need it. Idia can actually be pretty creative himself so when you struggle to continue and lack an idea, he might just deliver exactly what you need.
Malleus has read many books throughout his lifetime. Be it biographies, fiction or textbooks about all kinds of topics. Most of them were outdated and the writing style of the novels he’s read has long since gone out of fashion. 
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Malleus is mostly unfamiliar with the modern way of writing stories. Hell, many of the things he’s read have been written with a magical pen and ink. The Briar Valley castle libraries contain many books that are unique and don’t have any other copies in the whole world. The newer ones were written on a typewriter. 
He’s super interested when you tell him you write as a hobby for the first time. He’s seen many printed books since coming to Night Raven College but watching you just pull out your laptop and write a whole story in just a couple of hours is fascinating to him. He lets you sit on his lap and wraps his arms around you. He rests his head on your shoulder or against your head and watches as the words just seem to spill onto the pages. He reads along and asks you a couple of questions in the meantime, still being careful not to distract you though. 
“Why did the king say this to his daughter?”, Malleus asks with a surprised expression, “is he hiding something?” You chuckle. “You’ll find that out in about five chapters”, you turn around a bit to be able to press a sweet kiss to his lips. Malleus smiles and puts his hands on his hips. “And when do I get to read those?”, he asks and you let out a sigh. “Only god knows”, you bury your head in your hands, “if the heavens decide to randomly inject me with whatever writer steroids I was on when I wrote the first three chapters, it might be tomorrow after an all-nighter and an unholy amount of coffee. If things don’t go well it could be next New Year’s Day.” “But it’s January…”, Malleus sighs.
He’s always the first to witness all the frustrations that come with being a writer. He finds it amusing but he also hopes you always find the motivation and productivity you want. 
If you write poetry, Malleus always reads it with great interest, trying to search for messages within the lines. Before the two of you got together, this was how he’s been trying to look for hints of your feelings for him.
He’s so unfamiliar with the modern world that sometimes he finds out way later that something you mentioned in your works is in fact not a fictional thing you made up. He’ll smile at you and tell you how creative you are for coming up with all this fantastic and wondrous stuff and then you rent an apartment with him to stay at during your fourth year internships. “Wait, you’re telling me roombas are real???”, he just stares at the little apparatus cleaning your living room floor in awe. You raise an eyebrow: “You thought they were fake?” He just stares at you with a slightly confused expression.
Malleus is actually pretty easily motivated to write something himself. And he’s good at it too, given his eloquent way of speaking and writing that has been taught to him at a young age due to him being a prince. He has so many in-depth thoughts, it’s pretty easy for him to make detailed descriptions of something and bring a story to life. He projects a lot too. Like, you know him too well and you just know exactly where the lines in the story about the lonely gargoyle just wishing for a friend or for anyone to care about his feelings come from. But that’s a conversation for another day. 
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