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#will try to edit some tomorrow <3
unorcadox · 7 months
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made a 7 part edit series tonight that'll probs just trickle out over the next few weeks, won't be labelled as a series, but consider this proof if you notice the pattern
edit: omgg for the first time in several months, i actually have a slight surplus in total edits. i've been scraping by for literally all of the summer, but maybe i can finally get a decent backlog again :D
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mattodore · 7 months
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guy whose childhood drags behind him like a dead body
#river dipping#simblr#ts4#ts4 edit#theodore doe#echthroi#i forgot to post this after sharing theo's birthday edit last night... listen i was so tired i just hit post and passed out#but so far today i've just been looking through character page themes for a bit and messing around with codes while watching dropout tv#i still need to get to my activity feed sometime today or tomorrow and then i want to set aside some time to just hang out on here#and catch up on things like i keep disappearing and missing out on posts jgkhjfnkh so i gotta do that...#but i'm actually fighting off the world's biggest nap rn..... my meds work really well but lord i'm still so tired all the time woof#so i'll probably end up caving soon lmao#but!!! anyway!! THEO!!! there was nothing i could do abt the proportions on theo as a kid like i couldn't make his head any smaller...#the sims team actually hate me so bad and are trying to force the huge cartoonishly big heads onto my sims </3#also when i aged him down to a kid like all of his presets were gone so i just had to try and replicate them to the best of my abilities#his lip preset actually has a much deeper cupid's bow but thanks to the liquify tool <33333 it looks like his regular preset#i've actually posted teen theo on here before but i've made a ton of changes to him since then so this version is pretty different compared#to the older version of him at sixteen#he's definitely got more baby fat than he did before like his cheeks are pretty round#um. also i have these closeups i took of adult theo from the pose i made for his birthday edit that i gotta edit a lil and then post!!!#bc you really didn't get to see his expression or the actual pose that well and EYEEEE personally am really in love with the details#of the pose itself like ugh.......... theo is so.......................... yeah.#holds him
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guess who fucked around and found out? 👯‍♀️💅🏻😌 (I pulled smth in my right knee 😎)
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justinefrischmanngf · 7 months
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i HATE that i have to record a voiceover for this film assignment i HATE IT . i would much rather just write an essay but nooooooooo apparently not
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good-beans · 8 months
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Listening to Mili's new song and the rapid fluctuation between "hehe, mundane words and unpoetic realities sound goofy in a song, how silly :)" and "this manages to perfectly capture my exact dream of the future which is, in fact, the only reason I'm making it through each ridiculous, pessimistic, lonely day OKAY"
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cicadagaze · 1 year
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book 2 and 3 finished! :') agh.
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gggukniverse · 1 month
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take me down slow | jjk
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title: take me down slow
pairing: jeon jungkook x f!reader
genre: m, smut, established relationship au
summary: jungkook is back home from work and even if you've missed him a lot, you let him rest tonight. though, out of all night, you have a wet dream tonight. and even if jungkook is tired, he's happy to take care of you.
warnings: dom!jk sub!reader, needy reader and sleepy koo 🥹, a little bit of oral (m receiving), a little bit of fingering too, unprotected sex (pls be safe), degradation (jk calls reader a whore like one time), daddy kink, kink discovery, creampie, just basically some lazy sleepy sex... until it's not so lazy.
wordcount: 2.2k
note: HELLO !!! 🫡 this is just a little story i wrote a long time ago and since part 3 of basic needs is still a work in progress i wanted to give you something to read while you wait :) this one is not edited at all so don't expect the greatest thing. either way, i hope you enjoy it 🩷
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you open your eyes with a gasp and when you take in the dark room you realize it was just a dream. it felt too real. you can almost still feel jungkook”s hands all over your body, well, you kind of actually feel them now.
jungkook is fast asleep by your side, your legs tangled together while your arm is thrown over his middle and his is wrapped around your waist to keep you close to him even in his unconscious state.
he came home from work yesterday, it’s been almost four weeks since the last time you two were together but that’s what being an international star does to his schedule. he got home late in the afternoon and you only got to prepare dinner together and share a comfortable and much needed talk during dinner before he said he was so jet lagged and he needed to go to sleep. you needed him so bad but didn’t say a word, just went to bed with him and fell asleep together.
but out of all nights, you had to have a stupid wet dream tonight.
you’re actually sweating, your skin is hot and your underwear is starting to feel uncomfortable because you can feel it’s soaked. and jungkook is sleeping. he’s peacefully sleeping with his pouty mouth and furrowed eyebrows. you feel so bad but you need him even more, so you guess you can feel bad about it tomorrow morning.
you shift a little and get closer to his neck, giving his skin sweet little kisses as you slowly start to rut your hips against him to try and find any kind of friction on your crotch. like a bitch in heat, that’s what you feel like.
a groan escapes jungkook’s mouth at one specific suck to the side of his neck and his hand twitches where it’s placed on your waist.
“baby.” you whisper in his ear.
“yeah...” he only groans with that sleepy rasp to his voice you missed so much.
“i’m so horny.” you whine as you keep rutting against his hip.
that comment alone seems to wake jungkook up. he lifts his head a little to look down at you with what you suppose is an arched eyebrow, the little light in the room coming from the city lights through the window.
“baby.. .” he says and drops his head back on the pillow, closing his eyes again. he’s tired. you feel so bad.
“i’m sorry, i.. fuck..” you feel like crying but god, you’re so horny you don’t even think your brain is working anymore.
“it’s okay, baby.” jungkook mumbles and his hand that was on your waist goes down to squeeze one of your asscheeks out of nowhere, making you whimper on his neck.
“kook.. so horny..”
“mhm.. i know.” you swear if he keeps talking with that raspy voice you could come completely untouched.
“want you so bad.” your hand goes down to cup him over his sweatpants. he’s soft but you can definitely feel him twitching a little at the contact.
“make me hard, baby.” jungkook squeezes your asscheek again, making you moan.
“yes!” you quickly get up on your knees and throw the comforter away from his body, wasting no time in pushing his sweats down.
“good girl.” your boyfriend praises, his hand going to your hair when you bend over to blow air on his soft dick teasingly.
“missed you so much,” you take him into your hand and start giving his head little licks, feeling it slowly starting to harden on your hand. “missed your cock in my mouth.”
“missed your mouth too.” jungkook hums as he brushes your hair out of your face so he can see you.
“you’re so hot..” you whine when you feel him getting to full hardness just in a matter of seconds. you put it in your mouth, your lips wrapping around him and drowning in the groan that escapes jungkook’s mouth.
“that’s my girl.” the praise makes you so wet you could feel it running down your thighs if your underwear wasn’t soaking all of it.
you bob your head a few times to get him wet enough and pull away with a desperate moan, “kook, i need you.”
“i know, come here.” he pats his thighs. you work quickly, sitting down on his thighs and leaning down to catch his lips in a desperate kiss, trying not to grind against his cock.
“i love you.”
“i love you too baby,” jungkook chuckles fondly against your mouth. “c’mon, sit that pretty pussy on this cock, yeah?” he gives you one last kiss before putting his hands on your waist lifting the big shirt —his shirt— so he can take it off.
you’re only wearing your panties so as soon as the shirt hits the floor, jungkook groans at the sight even through te darkness in the room.
“pretty baby.” he praises, running his hands up and down your sides as you sit back on his thighs.
“i’m so wet.” you mutter, looking down at where you’re sitting in one of his thighs.
“yeah, can fucking feel it,” jungkook says. “would make you ride my thigh, but i want you on my cock,” he easily lifts you up by your hips and positions you on top of him. “take them off.”
you sit up for a second to take the ruined panties off and throw them away before sitting back down on top of him, your most sensitive part just above his cock.
“let me feel you,” jungkook brings one of his hands down and you choke on a moan when his fingers start running through your wet folds. “fuck yeah, that’s my whore, huh?”
“kook,” you whimper, grinding your hips against his hand. “fuck yes...” a little moan escapes through your lips when he slips two fingers inside.
“so little resistance, are you this needy for cock?” jungkook hums in question and you almost cry out as he slips another finger inside. you don’t tell him you’ve been using toys while he was away. either way, his fingers always feel better than any toy.
“yes, need your cock baby.”
“c’mon, sit on it.” he gives your pussy a wet slap that makes your thighs twitch for a second and then grabs the base of his cock to make it easier for you.
“okay.” you whisper and lower down, positioning on top of his cock and moaning absurdibly high when jungkook decides to drag the head of his cock through your folds.
“so wet.” he mumbles.
you think you might die if you don’t have him inside you now so you start to sink down on his cock slowly, both of you moaning in unison, until you’re sitting on top of him with his entire length inside.
“missed you so much.” you whine, feeling like you could cry.
“i missed you too baby,” he puts his hands on your hips. “so much.”
you stay there for a while, just feeling him inside as you bend down to kiss him again. he wraps his arms around you and kisses you back with so much passion you’re out of breath seconds later.
“pretty.” he looks up at you with that type of smile that makes your knees weak and you straighten up again, putting your hands on his chest for balance.
“you feel so good, kook.” you tell him because you need him to know.
“mh... yeah?” asshole.
“yes.” you moan and start grinding your hips for your pleasure, still not giving him what he wants.
“i can’t fucking see anything right now but i’m sure you’re creaming my cock so good, right?” the words make you clench around him with a whine and you hear him groan at the feeling. “so fucking tight.���
but you eventually sit up a little, letting him pull out until only his head is inside you and slowly sink down on him again. you do it slowly, still tired from how little you must’ve slept, but jungkook seems fine with it. little hums and groans escape his mouth sometimes but the time he lets out a high-pitched moan you clench so hard around him, making him moan again and grip on your hips for dear life.
“baby, god...” he breathes out. it’s clear he’s still sleepy, but it’s so fucking hot.
you lose yourself the moment his tip grazes against that spot, your hips grinding desperately for him to keep hitting it. but jungkook helps you by bending his legs a little, planting his feet on the mattress and starting to thrust up into you.
hard. you didn’t think he could be on his full potential when he’s as sleepy as he is now, but he proves you wrong fucking you so hard that you fall on top of him, your bare chest against his clothed one. yes, also the fact that he’s still half clothed and you’re completely naked makes you even wetter. but he’s slow, he gives your deep and hard thrusts but still doesn’t do it fast.
“oh my– fuck...” you breathe out against his neck, not being able to move anymore.
“feels good, baby?” he doesn’t stop fucking you, his hands also pulling your hips down to meet his thrusts so hard you know you won’t be able to walk tomorrow.
“yes daddy,” the word slips out of your mouth before you can even process it and you feel jungkook stopping completely. “fuck...” you whisper and hide your face on his neck in embarrassment. “i’m sorry, i don’t know why i said that.”
“daddy?” jungkook asks and you hate the way you don’t know what he’s thinking right now.
“i’m so sorry... fuck, that was so weird– i’m sorry baby.”
“no, let daddy hear you baby.” he suddenly starts thrusting up inside you and you let out a scream.
“kook! oh my god!” he’s fast now. fast and hard. your whole body is completely limp on top of his.
“that’s not my name, babe.”
oh fuck.
“d– daddy..” you stutter because you can’t even form words right now.
“there you go.” he chuckles and fuck, how can he chuckle while fucking you so hard, you can’t even form a single thought in your brain right now.
“fuck!” you whine when his tip keeps brushing against that sweet spot. “i’m so– i’m so close, daddy.”
“gonna cum?” he hums.
“yeah...” you cry out and the chuckle he lets out makes you clench incredibly hard around his cock.
“gonna cum on daddy’s cock?”
“fuck! yeah... yes, yes, please.” you mumble dumbly, feeling closer and closer everytime he speaks.
“please what?” jungkook hums as his hips keep that punishing pace that has you seeing stars.
“please let me cum,” you beg. “please daddy.”
“cum for me, baby.”
your orgasm washes over your whole body like a wave, leaving your legs shaking as you fall completely limp on top of his body while he keeps thrusting to cum just a few seconds after.
“fuck...” jungkook groans as he fills you up, the sensation making you squirm a little on top of him. “that’s my good girl.” he mumbles as he rubs your back up and down soothingly.
“i missed you.” you say and finally lift your head up to leave a little kiss on his lips.
“i missed you too baby,” you can see his smile even through the dark. “i’m gonna turn us around, okay?” he warns and you just nod, letting him hug your waist to flip you two around so that he’s the one on top.
“it’s gonna be messy.” you giggle as he positions himself on his knees to pull out.
“it’s okay, i’ll change the sheets now.” jungkook shrugs and starts to pull out, making you hiss a little in discomfort but sigh when you instantly feel his cum spilling out of you and straight onto the sheets.
you can’t help but giggle again when jungkook sits back and looks down, like he’s admiring the view.
“like what you see... daddy?” you tease as you slide your hand down your body until you get to your pussy and slip two fingers inside.
“you don’t know what you’re doing to me.” he rubs his hands up and down your thighs as he keeps his eyes down where you’re gathering some of his cum with your fingers. a low groan leaves his mouth when you bring your messy fingers to your mouth and suck on them, tasting him on them.
“missed your taste.”
“you better stop that shit before i get hard again,” he warns you and you break in laughter. “wanna have a quick shower?” he asks.
“yeah, i’m a little sweaty and i feel gross.” you nod as you sit up. he nods.
“mh, i’ll change the sheets while you shower, okay? i’ll join you in a minute.”
“okay.” you smile and lean closer to him to steal another sweet kiss before getting up from the bed and making your way to the bathroom, turning the lights on first.
“baby.”
you turn around at that and jungkook looks up and down your naked body before saying, “i really missed you.”
you smile. “i missed you too.”
-
A/N: i hope you liked this story !!!!! please feel free to comment or send me an ask telling me what you thought of it, feedback helps a lot ! see you in the next one :) 🫂💐
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ceilidho · 3 months
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take me home, country road
[ao3]
prompt: 1800s price/reader…. reader flees to his town where Price is the sheriff after a murder in her previous town only to be mistaken for the mail order bride that Price just sent for ….and he’s not interested in hearing any of her excuses when she tells him that he’s got the wrong girl (part 4) part 1, part 2, part 3
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You remember the lock turning on the door of another room.
Ice flooding your veins. Heart suddenly tripling in speed, flush against your breastbone, close to snapping your ribs and pumping right out. A man standing in front of the locked door, barring your only way out. Petrified, but not confused; it’d always been an inevitability, something you’d long been waiting to happen, but hoping beyond hope that maybe you’d skirt by it unscathed. 
You’re in a bedroom, but you’re also in a study hundreds of miles away, cabinets along the walls filled with jade carvings and porcelain trinkets, bookcases filled with untouched first editions with the spines still stiff, a leather chair tucked into wide mahogany desk, and a grandfather clock ticking ominously in the corner. And you’re watching a man come into the room and lock the door, shutting you both inside. 
There is a bust of the same man in the corner of the room. When you sink into the memory, your eyes drag there and hold.
“Honey? Honey, are you alright?”
You come back to yourself at the sound of another man’s voice. When you blink, the memory leeches out of the corners of your eyes and you find Price looking down at you with some concern, a slight furrow between his brows. You shudder out the memory until it’s wrung out, until you’re dry of it. Sweat cools on the back of your neck. There’s a tremble in your hand that you notice when you go to rub your forehead, a shake that even Price notices, taking your wrist and pulling it to his chest.
There is no bust in the corner of the room here. The man that locked the door holds your wrist tenderly to his chest and waits for you to answer, his lips still sloped down. The black spots fade from your vision one by one, panic retreating back into your bones. It leaves a too big hole inside of you. 
You know it’s still within you. It slumbers in the marrow of your bones; it cowers in there, sometimes close enough to kiss or close enough to cradle your head and crack it against the nearest ledge. 
“Honey?” he asks again. The deep tenor of his voice moves something back to life inside of you, as much as it pains you to admit. Even to yourself. 
You blink up at him, only realizing how dry your mouth is when you croak out, “I’m—I’m alright. Apologies.”
He doesn’t seem much convinced. Perhaps he has a right to doubt your words. You can’t see the tormented thing staring back at him. 
“I’ve given you a few too many frights today,” Price sighs, head dropping towards you, like drawing a curtain around the two of you. “Thought maybe you needed a bit of a push, but you’re not quite there, darling, are you?”
“Not where?” you ask, lost. “Where am I not?”
For once, he doesn’t answer, doesn’t try to force his vision into your head. It shocks you when he dips his head to press his lips against your forehead, lingering there for several moments. Breathing you in. You let him linger there, half-curious yourself, a softness suffusing into you like breath. 
“Are you hungry enough to eat? Or straight to bed?”
His words give you a nervous thrill, but when you catch his eye, there’s nothing to read there. Absent of double meaning. He’s asking you if you’re hungry and if you’re wanting to eat. 
“No.” You shake your head. “I’m still…well, I’ve had a bit of a cramp all afternoon. I don’t think I’m up to eating.”
“Not even tea or cake?”
The thought intrigues you, but not enough for your stomach to untwist. “Tomorrow, maybe.”
He hums against your forehead, then presses another kiss there, then a third on your temple, breathing out a puff of air that blows across your face and tickles your nose. “Not hungry for anything then,” he surmises, and you hear it there, the silvery flipside of an innuendo. You scrunch up your nose and flinch when he chuckles. “How about just a bath then? And then we’ll tuck in for the night.” 
“That sounds nice. Do you, um…I could help if you want?"
“Already fetched the water earlier today. Wash tub’s downstairs. You can stay here or come down and wait until the water’s warm.”
Finally, he pulls back and puts some space between the two of you. Something buried deep in your chest clicks when he unlocks the door and steps out. You try not to look at it too hard. 
You follow him downstairs, more out of habit than anything. With the water already fetched from the well and Price starting a fire to heat it up enough for a warm bath, there’s not much for you to do besides wait, but you join him downstairs anyway, taking the time to look around. 
“Toothpowder, brushes, and mint are in the drawer under the sink if you need any,” Price tells you. You don’t bother with the mint, but you use the rest to clean your teeth in the bathroom sink, a bowl of water already waiting for you to help rinse your mouth. You rethink the mint afterwards, chewing on a couple of leaves to rid your mouth of the chalky aftertaste. 
It takes awhile to heat up enough water for a bath, giving you time to peruse the rest of the house. After spending the bulk of your day locked up in his room, it’s nice to stretch your legs and move about. The rest of the house is fairly typical, barebones; Price heats up the water in a stone fireplace in the main room and at the other end of the house, you find the kitchen.
The crickets in the bushes out front are louder than you’ve ever heard them. For a moment, you stand alone by the front door, fingers twitching by your sides. It wouldn’t do you any good to run, but your feet feel quick now, light after hours of rest. You could bolt like an Appaloosas if you wanted to. 
Then Price calls your name and you drift back to the other room.
Steam billows off the water in the metal tub. It’s only halfway filled, which makes you frown; you have no right to be picky after the days you’ve spent cleaning yourself with a damp washcloth over a porcelain bowl, but you can’t help thinking that it’ll hardly come up to your waist. Still, staring at the warm water makes your skin itch; you could practically kiss the bar of soap sitting on the floor next to the tub. If there wasn’t a man in the room, your dress would already be on the floor. 
“Are you still waiting on more to heat up?” you ask, casting a glance at the fireplace where a small flame still burns. There isn’t a bucket of water hovering over it though, just a poker stowed back in its place. 
“Any more and I’ll be mopping up water for the rest of the night,” he huffs. “That’s more than enough for us.”
“Us?” you repeat. 
It only makes sense when you turn around and stare wide-eyed at Price as he untucks his shirt and starts at the buttons, each one slipped through the hole exposing a new inch of chest covered in dark hair. You make a noise at the back of your throat, half-aghast. The other half, indeterminate. If your feet weren’t glued to the floor, you’d stop him or grab his hands. Instead, you watch mutely as he pulls off his shirt and unbuttons his pants, mouth drying at each new slab of muscle revealed.
You swallow reflexively when his pants pool around his ankles on the floor. You catch a glimpse of thick thighs covered in dark hair and something heavy dangling between his legs before you avert your eyes, staring straight up at the ceiling. Sure to give yourself a kink in your neck, but perhaps forgivable this time. 
“Us?” It comes out squeaky this time, high and tight in your throat. Price laughs.
When he moves towards you, you can hardly so much as lift a finger to keep him at bay. Your body feels tethered in place, sluggish and inert. The world moves around you instead, doubly so when Price fits his hands at your waist and twists you to face away from him. 
Big hands ruck up the fabric of your dress, slowly pulling it over your head. You lift your arms for him on command, the whole time baffled by how little struggle you put up. You imagine him telling that deputy of his what an obedient little bride he’s found for himself. 
“Us,” Price confirms, emphasizing the word the same way you did. “We’d be here all night if we took turns. Water’d be ice cold by then too. You’d rather I freeze my nethers off?” You open your mouth to reply but he cuts you off. “Don’t answer that.”
That pulls a real giggle from your chest, shocking you both. Breath sits like a bubble in your chest. You feel his fingers still at the ties of your corset before pulling it through. 
He loosens each lace slowly, giving each a gentle pull. It’s nerve wracking, nail-biting tedium, the corset gradually giving way to his touch and drooping into your waist. You let him undo each of the hooks and unwrap it from your torso before pulling off your chemise underneath, flesh chilling in the open air. Even stationed behind you, you feel his stare like a heavy, weighted thing. His fingertips trace over the naked skin of your back, looping small circles just for the pleasure of touching your skin. 
Gooseflesh runs down the length of your arms, shivering from his touch as much as the cool air. You tell yourself that it means nothing just to put it all away.
“Alright, let’s get you washed up,” he says gruffly, clearing his throat. “Been awhile since you had a warm bath, I bet.” 
You turn part way around, watching him from the corner of your eye. If only he knew. 
Price gets in the tub first and it’s immediately obvious to you why he hardly filled the tub. His body takes up so much room that you frown when you realize that he expects you to get in next. It’s one of the bigger tubs you’ve ever bathed in and yet he still has to bend his knees. The sigh he lets out after relaxing against the back of the tub makes you shiver. 
When he glances up at you swelteringly, you hear the evocation unspoken. 
“If you’d just give me a minute,” you snap. 
“Darlin’.” 
The note of warning in his voice finally tips you over the edge of hesitancy where you’d been precariously balanced. 
The water is still warm when you dip a foot tentatively in. It’s easier to ignore the indulgent smile on Price’s face than engage with it, sure you’d shout yourself hoarse if you finally let your composure crack. 
You think it vaguely humiliating to have to turn around in front of Price in the tub in order to lower yourself to sit. He doesn’t touch you yet, but there’s no way to avoid the weight of his eyes on your backside. It’s not something you’ve thought about much before. A man’s hands on you, stripped bare for him, lowering yourself into a hot bath with him. 
You peek over your shoulder. “Do you ever stop staring?”
A pointless question. He doesn’t even meet your eye to respond, just stares at the curve of your ass with heavy lidded eyes, the faintest pink hue high on his cheeks. He hums instead. You purse your lips.
The water sloshes up the side of the tub when he pulls you down abruptly, settling your back against his chest. You stiffen in the cradle of his arms and chest, acutely aware of every point of your body pressed into his. When Price sighs now, it reverberates through your back and chest. 
“Why does it feel like you’ve been run against a whetstone?” he asks. The sound drips heavy from his lips because the room is silent apart from him, apart from the gentle lapping of the bath water against the sides of the tub and the water trickling from the washcloth when he lifts it out of the water and gives it a wring. 
“What’s that supposed to mean?” you ask, frowning. 
“You’re all sharp, all hard edges. If I’m not careful, you might run me through.”
“You should’ve thought of that before you married me,” you huff. 
That gets another laugh out of him, raising your hackles. It’s hard to differentiate between ridicule and endearment. You opt for the former to guard yourself, to keep yourself safe. 
“I’ll take my chances.”
You can’t think of a way to respond to that. It’s loaded in an uncomfortable way. It’s easier to just let it pass into silence. Price doesn’t seem anxious for you to respond anyway, thankfully, instead reaching out of the tub to grab the bar of soap still on the floor. The movement pushes his pelvis into you, the length between his legs pressing against the small of your back. You jolt forward only for him to wrap an arm around your waist and haul you back. More water splashes over the rim.
“Christ, you’re skittish,” he gripes. 
“What do you expect me to do?” You squirm in his hold, which only makes his arm constrict tighter around you, drawing you even closer. 
“Sit there and let me wash you, for one. What’s got you all riled up?”
“You know exactly what,” you say, face hot when you feel it press against you again. 
“My—”
“Yes, that,” you hiss, digging your nails into his forearm. 
“Squirming around isn’t gonna make it go away,” Price teases, squeezing once before finally letting you go. You scoot forward as much as he allows, but it’s for naught; you can feel it press against you still. 
In the brief silence, Price lathers up the cloth until it froths, then puts the bar of soap back down on the floor. You almost stop him to say that you can wash yourself, but he starts on your arms before you’re so much as able to part your lips. 
Your nipples bead when he drags the washcloth over your chest. The material is coarse, almost abrasive, and when you wince, Price murmurs a soft apology into your ear. He’s softer when he pulls your legs one after the other from the water and sets your foot on the rim of the tub, dragging the cloth over your calves and up the inside of your thighs. You shake when his hand disappears under the water, biting your lip until it hurts.
You sit with the silence instead of electing to fill it. It’s better that way anyway; words can unravel so many interiorities that long for stasis. And what has the man at your back done to earn your words anyway, besides lock you up and throw away the key?
You’ll figure your way out eventually. It’s only a matter of time. 
His own washup is perfunctory, performed only to get it over with. None of the affection reserved for washing you. He barely makes you lean forward before dragging the cloth haphazardly across his chest, getting a few good scrubs in before calling it a day. 
“I can’t imagine why you’d spend so much time filling a bath just to wash up in five minutes,” you say, peering over your shoulder at him. Expressly not focusing on the pillowy muscles of his chest or the dark, wet hair now flush with his skin. 
“Haven’t used the tub in months,” he grunts, dunking the cloth in the bath water until it comes out clean. He wrings it dry before hanging it over the rim. “There’s a creek out back, ‘bout a ten minute walk from here.”
You frown. “You usually bathe in a creek?” 
“What’s the point in spending time heating up enough water for a bath when there’s a perfectly good creek nearby? Water’s water.”
“You did it for me.”
“That’s different.”
You roll your eyes. “It shouldn’t be.”
“You like to fuss over nothing, huh?” Price remarks. Again, it’s said so earnestly that it makes your skin prickle. 
When you stand, the water rushes off you in a wave, leaving you slick and cooling rapidly in the air. Your teeth clatter until he steps out of the tub to fetch you a towel, wrapping you up in it and patting you dry. You get a bit dizzy when he kneels before you to dry your legs, swaying on your feet. Under your breath, you mumble something like, you don’t have to. 
He ignores you. For reasons unbeknownst to you, you let it go. 
Your bare feet pick up stray dust and debris on your way back up the stairs alone. You wipe them off on the mat at the door before changing into your shift while Price empties the tub downstairs. The oil lamp on the bedside table illuminates most of the room when you light the wick and delicately put the chimney back in place, apart from the elongated shadows that hang from the corners like spiderwebs. 
The bed looks different when you know you’re meant to share it. You try not to tense up too much when you hear Price come up the stairs, eyeing him nervously from the other side of the room. 
“You’ve got that look again, darling,” he says, shutting the door behind him. He doesn’t lock it this time. The knot in your shoulder aches when they untense. 
“What look?” you ask, averting your gaze when he drops the towel to change into his nightwear.
“Like a doe.”
You snort, distinctly unladylike. “Like a deer before it’s shot?”
“The very same. Didn’t I tell you it’d be straight to bed?”
You open your mouth but nothing comes out. In the back of your mind, you must have assumed he was placating you, saying words just to soothe. It’s rare that men speak plainly and mean it. Over the years, you’ve learned to read into second meanings and real intentions couched in soft words. Men like to think themselves simple, but you know a vast underground world. 
Some part of you grows anxious with your own inability to play the part of his simpering wife. He must have thought he’d be taking to bed something nurturing and with wings. It’d be easier if you just acquiesced; you can’t imagine he’d worry so much about his doting wife fleeing in the middle of the night. Not the wife happy to spread her legs for him.
“Why are you so patient?” you ask him outright instead. 
He takes a moment to answer, studying you. His face by lamplight is inscrutable. “Nothing good comes plucked too soon.”
“You don’t think that God gave you the right to—” You can’t say the words, but he understands. 
“The methods of God take pickaxes and shovels to uncover,” Price says, so simply, so plainly. You hardly understand what he means. “It’s not a man’s place to rush to understand His intentions.”
You think it’s almost unfair for a man to say those words to you when you plan on running away from him. It makes you dig your nails into the palms of your hands. 
You’re still nervous when you crawl into bed, eyeing him when he settles on his side and turns the lamp off, cupping his palm around the glass and blowing out the flame. There’s little to worry about though. Price doesn’t so much as shift from his side of the bed. 
The world outside is beyond gold and red now, when you stare out the window from where you lie on your side. When you think of the past, it comes with a searing pain. Then, it is no more.
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threadmonster · 2 years
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I just want to scream that I may have lost one of the most irreplaceable things I own and I simply do not understand how. No matter how I think about it. It absolutely makes no sense. At least make it make sense.
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mattodore · 10 months
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100 questions with Theo | playlist, pinterest | ←
1. What common traits do you share with your oc? What about them is the least like you?
Well… we both have a hard time connecting with people, are easily jealous, and are hungry for understanding. Theo is very different from me in that he’s reckless, judgmental, dismissive, and is more willing to work for approval than I am.
2. Do you think you would get along with your oc if you could meet them? What things would you talk about?
To be honest… no. Theo isn’t exactly easy to get along with (which is by design) and neither one of us would make the first move to talk to the other.
3. How competent would your oc be in a survival situation? Would they be better off on their own or in a group?
He’d be very competent. Theo is a survivor. He’ll claw his way to the finish line even while covered in gore and viscera. Most of his knowledge comes from what he’s read with little hands-on experience, but I believe he’d still be able to apply that knowledge well. He’s not very strong as he doesn’t exercise and is fairly slim… so I think he might struggle with things that would require a lot of muscle. But, then again, Theo has a sharp mind… I think he could find a workaround for most things that would’ve required physical strength anyway. Theo’s fast on his feet and is also good at hiding… he’s pretty stealthy and quiet when he needs to be. Plus, with Theo’s perceptiveness and natural aptitude for reading people, I think he’d be quick to suss out who’s trustworthy or not and would know not to approach a bad situation. 
Theo is a loner and is generally distrustful of people, so he’d be better off on his own. Maybe one other person beside him would be okay for a short while just to have an ally, but… I don’t know. I think he’d let someone tag along with him for a few days and then he’d just vanish in the middle of the night to be all on his own again.
4. Is your oc a daredevil, or more of a scaredy cat? What is the most daring thing they’ve done in their life?
He’s self-destructive, so… daredevil. At the same time, though, I think a lot of the situations Theo puts himself in do in fact scare him… you’d hardly be able to tell, though. The most daring thing he’s done… hm… Theo has walked into the den of a drug lord and behaved disrespectfully.
5. What is your oc’s patience like? When waiting for something, are they able to sit still or do they fidget? How do they fidget?
I think Theo is exceptionally patient and doesn’t fidget at all. He was trained out of unattractive behaviors very young in his life, so he doesn’t fuss or even so much as shift from foot to foot—not even while under duress. He’s very still. As for his patience… Theo is well acquainted with never getting what he wants no matter how long he waits, so he has the patience of a saint.
6. How much thought does your oc put into what they wear/look like? Any reason why?
Theo has to think about what he’s wearing very carefully. He’s essentially living three separate lives and has different attire for each of them. He has the typical refined masculine fashion he has to wear whenever he’s around his family, the casual fashion he dresses in for his college life, and then the more fun, colorful, androgynous fashion that he wears for his nightlife activities. He’s separated his life into three neat little boxes while he himself stands at a distance from them, wiping his hands on his legs nervously.
With regards to skin and hair care, he doesn’t do much. Theo has naturally good skin (even when he was a teenager) and only uses facial cleanser and lotions on it. His hair is the same and all he does to it, aside from washing it, is use different oils to keep it soft. He doesn’t allot much time to these things as he has other things he believes he needs to focus on (academics, for one). 
7. Does your oc collect anything? What about knowledge or facts? How big is their collection?
Theo collects these small, intricately crafted decorative bells! He loves the sounds they make and how pretty they are. He has an entire curio cabinet full of them and is methodical in dusting them off and wiping them down regularly. He also has a ton of other knick knacks and things he’s picked up over the years scattered all around his apartment, but the bells are what he’s most attached to, I believe.
8. What kind of flavors does your oc like? How much spice can they handle?
Theo has been eating spicy food since he was a child, so he takes it like a champ. I don’t think he’s ever had anything that was too spicy for him. The burn is nothing to him. Moving on, Theo isn’t picky and will eat whatever is given to him, no matter the flavor. He does actually dislike sweets, though, and has a hard time eating them when they’re given to him. To be clear, he’ll still eat them… he just doesn’t actually like them and grimaces the whole way through. Theo has a really strange relationship with food. 
9. How easily does your oc trust others? Any particular reason why? How trustworthy are they themselves?
Theo had his trust broken by the abuse and neglect he faced when he was just a little boy. He’s never felt safe around others as a result and the effects of that have definitely leaked over onto everything else in his life, staining any chance he could’ve had at forming normal bonds with others. It’s not even that he doesn’t trust people easily, but rather that he distrusts everyone on principle and is suspicious of every kindness or placid smile he receives. Even when he’s being pampered, he feels uneasy and suspicious of what will come next—what he thinks has to come next. He believes that there’s something malignant and twisted at the core of everyone who tries to touch him. If he can’t find the intent to harm that he always expects to see, he’ll just sow the seed himself.
As for Theo, I believe he’s trustworthy to a point. You can trust that Theo won’t tell other people the things you’ve told him in confidence, but you can’t exactly trust him not to turn around and start hurling the things you’ve told him right back in your face. Theo lashes out when he gets nervous or scared, especially if he’s in withdrawal, and he has this ability to see through people… to know what will slice them apart easiest, what they dislike most about themselves… that is almost impossible to come back from. You have to be incredibly strong, mentally speaking, to be able to handle Theo sometimes. He’ll tremble while hurting you, but he’ll hurt you nonetheless.
10. What are some of your oc’s pet peeves? How do they handle it when the annoyance doesn’t stop?
Theo actually has a lot of pet peeves… so much so that I don’t think it’d be a wise use of my time to list them all, lest we be here for days. I’ll just list off some of the things that annoy him the most out of everything. 
Theo really doesn’t like being prodded for answers to personal questions, especially if they relate to his childhood or family life. He doesn’t like it when he’s interrupted or talked down to. He doesn’t like being touched unexpectedly or having someone stand too close to him and will flinch reactively. He doesn’t like having the spotlight on him—or, at least, he doesn’t like it when he’s not all uninhibited from intoxication. He especially doesn’t like arrogance (lmao).
How Theo reacts is totally dependent on who he’s around, whether or not he’s using, and whichever one of these pet peeves is getting to him, but in general he’s either going to shut down, glare and shoot off at the mouth, or walk away.
11. Does your oc have a good sense of direction? Do they get lost easily?
Theo’s sense of direction is okay, but it definitely could be better. His memory itself isn’t very great and he often finds himself feeling déjà vu in places he swears he’s never been to while forgetting the basic landmarks that’re around the city he lives in. 
12. How well would your oc handle being placed in a leadership position?
Not well at all. Theo doesn’t want to be responsible for other people when he can hardly even take care of himself. The idea of being some kind of authority is nausea inducing to him. I think a lot of people would willingly follow him, though, because he really does have this innate ability to draw people in even when he’s not trying to.
13. What is your oc’s confidence like? Are they self-confident to the point of being arrogant? Are they terribly self-deprecating?
Theo often seems to other people as though he has a lot of self-confidence because of the way he talks and how he carries himself, but in actuality he’s rather disparaging toward himself. He’s always second guessing himself and wondering if he’s good enough. He feels as though he’s missing some vital part of himself that everyone else must have, something that without which he’s never going to be fully whole and deserving of love. 
14. What is your oc’s speech like? How loud are they usually? Do they have an accent or a stutter?
Theo has a very clear voice and never slurs. However, he does start mumbling if he’s beginning to withdraw into himself or if he’s only just woken up and sleep is still clinging to him. He speaks quietly, never wanting to be too loud and draw too much attention to himself (a habit he formed in his childhood). His American English accent is largely neutral without any extra stresses or dips.
He did actually develop a stutter in his teenage years but underwent speech therapy for it. 
15. What is your oc’s memory like? Do they remember certain things better than others? Do they have any strategies to better remember things?
Theo often has lapses in his memory that’re either brought upon by or made worse by drug use and trauma. There are events and experiences that his brain just buries from him and he can’t remember them at all. Aside from that, his memory itself isn’t that great, but he’s learned that repetition helps. If he’s studying or has something he really wants to remember well, he’ll read/repeat it forwards and then backwards a few times. He takes a ton of notes as well and has a journal that he writes in every day now. He’s aware that his memory gets better when he lays off the drug use for a while, but… he’s addicted. He doesn’t try getting clean for a while and relapses many times before it finally sticks.
16. How affectionate is your oc? How do they convey their affection? By being touchy, or through more subtle ways?
Whether it’s platonic or romantic, Theo isn’t very affectionate at all. He doesn’t even really have a baseline for what real physical and verbal affection is meant to look like anymore, as his memories of the affection his childhood au pair showed him keep fading more and more as each day passes.
Theo can only picture affection if it’s hard—if it’s brutal and rough and will ultimately hurt him. He can’t really wrap his head around softness anymore. That kind of touch is almost unbearable to him… because if he could’ve always had gentle hands on him, then what did he do so wrong to deserve the ones he got? 
He wants to be affectionate, but… it’s too much. He’s too fearful and ashamed of everything he wants and it’s all just building up inside of him. Voicing desire out loud is nearly impossible for him as well, because he just feels so much shame around it… how it deviates from everything he’s been told he should want… how it’s been used against him… 
It takes a lot of time to get him used to gentle affection and when he starts to reciprocate it, it’s tentative at first. He’ll stand close by and then he’ll reach out to hold onto an arm or grip tight onto the back of a shirt for just a few seconds. Just… little progress at a time, these small victories where warmth spreads through his fingers. It takes well over a year before he becomes more bold and will initiate kisses or hugs. Still, though, he won’t voice his affections or even his desires. Not for a very long time.
The only exception to this is when he’s hurt. He seeks Matthias out and will wait to be touched before clinging on tightly and letting it all out.
17. How polite is your oc? Do they know how to act in a formal situation? How would they *actually* act in a formal situation?
Theo isn’t very polite unless he’s in the presence of his parents or is somewhere where he’s expected to uphold his family name. He knows how to act in formal situations well enough and will follow the rules set out for those occasions when he needs to. Outside of formal situations and away from his parents, though, Theo is often dismissive and cold and will skim over the standards of politeness. It’s the only way he knows how to defend himself anymore.
18. How physically strong is your oc? Is their agility or endurance better?
Theo isn’t very strong at all. He has some lean muscle that’s a combination of natural testosterone paired with light cardio (he dances, plays a few sports when he gets the opportunity to, and sometimes jogs) but that’s it. I think his stamina isn’t that great but he’s fast and reacts quickly—though he finds it hard to actually dodge when he should… even when he can see it coming. His tolerance for pain has adapted over time and is rather high now, but the emotional effects of being hurt still get to him.
19. What is your oc’s creative skillset? Music, drawing, writing, dancing, etc.? Or are they lacking creativity entirely?
I think Theo is actually really creative even without him realizing it. He really enjoys dancing and is free while moving, doing whatever he thinks feels good; he wasn’t taught professionally at all, so it’s just intuitive and fun for him. He keeps track of things in his journal, but he has a certain style to the way he writes that I think is incredibly descriptive and lends itself to creativity. In all of his English and Literature classes he received a ton of high praise that was ultimately ignored as it wasn’t relevant to the direction his life was planned to go in (with relation to his future major in business). He doesn’t draw or play music, but I think he’d be good at it if he ever allowed himself the time to have those creative outlets. Theo’s pretty strict with himself, honestly, but his imagination… it’s definitely there. I think as a child he was used to entertaining himself by imagining a different life for himself, one where his au pair took him with them when they left his home. 
20. Does your oc have any favorite games to pass the time? What other hobbies do they have?
Theo people watches, if that counts. He likes observing people and picking out details about their life from their behaviors and the way they dress. His other hobbies… hm. I don’t think he has very many, truthfully. He likes to go partying and will get intoxicated however he can and go dancing, maybe even play a few drinking games. He likes playing sports but he doesn’t often get the opportunity to since he doesn’t have any friends (in his mind). He likes to collect things and window shop. He likes journaling. Yeah… that’s really all I can think of. Theo doesn’t allow himself very many simple joys.
21. Is your oc expressive, or would they rather conceal their emotions? What are their typical expressions like?
Theo can certainly try very hard to conceal his emotions, but his eyes… they give everything away if you’re truly paying attention. He can be very impassive at times, especially if he’s hurt, but when he’s frustrated it’s incredibly obvious; his brow furrows and he glares directly at whatever or whomever is bothering him. He hides his hurt well, but when he’s feverish and sick you can kind of catch onto it by the sweat on his brow and the flush of his cheeks. Theo’s smile itself is incredibly rare and kind of… clumsy? His smile is crooked and he never holds it for very long. If you call out his name he’ll startle and quickly look toward you, and in those few seconds of shock his face gives away how terrified he truly is most of the time. 
22. How easily does your oc fare in the sun? Do they tan or burn easily? Are they completely unaffected?
Theo doesn’t burn at all even when he doesn’t apply any sunscreen. Let it be known that Matthias is always reaching out to Theo to put some on him when they’re together, fussing over Theo and complaining about the harms of the sun… it’s cute. Theo doesn’t tan that easily so he has to put suntan lotion on whenever he wants to.
23. How graceful is your oc? Are they elegant in their movements, or more clumsy?
Theo has a grace that comes to him easily now through years of practice. Because of how ambitious both of his parents were for wealth and status, he’d been brought to numerous social functions that required a lot of him when it came to manners and poise. He never learned in a professional capacity, but he has a kind of elegance that was ingrained in him by a militaristic approach to teaching from his parents as well as observation. There’s nothing clumsy about the way he moves when in public and you would assume he’s someone who’s very confident in himself just by watching him from across the room.
24. Is your oc a romantic, or are they grossed out by the simple mention of anything romantic?
Hm. I don’t think Theo outwardly shows any romantic tendencies, but inwardly… in that soft, guarded place inside of him… I think he makes himself sick yearning for love and romance. He doesn’t let on to those feelings of his at all. In fact, I think Theo probably shrinks away from mentions of romance, insisting he doesn’t need it… but really, it’s something he imagines all the time. What must it be like, to have that for yourself? Does it hurt? How bad is it? Is it painless? Does it fill you up? Does it ever feel like enough? Thoughts like those.
25. How stubborn is your oc? Are they open to considering different options or opinions, or are they more closed off?
Theo is incredibly stubborn. You can certainly try to convince him to change his opinion or what he believes, but you’re going to be fighting tooth and nail against a man who is wholly inflexible. Theo’s formed a lot of very fast and hard opinions over the course of his life that he’s unreceptive to changing for his own peace of mind. He might let some allowances slip by, but don’t count on it. I honestly don’t think he’d ever give in and change them unless he’s been hit with solid facts or experiences something for himself that points to the contrary. 
26. How does your oc sleep? Do they move around a lot? What position does your oc normally sleep in? What are their typical bedding arrangements like?
Theo is a very anxious, fitful sleeper. He’s wound up all tight through the night and will fist his hands in his covers or his pillows. He moves around a lot and prefers to sleep with his back to a wall and the door a great distance away from him. He can’t sleep if he’s on the first floor of a building or if he doesn’t check all of the locks first. Theo sleeps on his side and will actually startle awake if he rolls over onto his stomach, heart in his throat and sweat at his temples. Theo’s bed in his apartment has… three, maybe four pillows—one of which he hugs to his chest. On his bed, he has two sets of sheets, a comforter, and a blanket. Theo has a sort of crowded bed, honestly, but it cradles him… which is something he needs to feel safe.
27. What is your oc’s sleep schedule like? Are they a night owl, an early morning riser, or do they get any sleep at all?
Theo prefers the morning as he doesn’t like the dark and feels worse without sunlight. But… hm… Theo doesn’t get a lot of sleep since he’s either out partying and getting too intoxicated to stand or he’s up all night pouring over his study notes and getting a headache for it. I’d say he normally falls asleep around 3AM-4AM and doesn’t wake back up until 7AM. Four-ish hours is pretty average for how much sleep he gets a night… maybe less at times. He’s wearing himself down and will end up crashing eventually… 
28. How organized is your oc? How important is organization to your oc?
Theo is very organized when it comes to his study materials and his wardrobe, but the state of the rest of his apartment is… I wouldn’t say messy exactly, but cluttered enough that he has trouble finding things sometimes. He has so much on his plate already that his apartment kind of suffers for it. I think he values organization a lot, it’s just that he lets it get away from him. I think there’s a lot you can learn about Theo from how his apartment looks…
29. If a perfume was to be made to represent your oc, what sorts of smells would be included in it?
I think Theo is best represented by light scents as he himself doesn’t really like anything that smells too chemical. He hardly ever wears cologne, but when he does he sticks to a fresh green scent. Powder and soap… that’s what reminds me of him most. Lemon, too, but not strong… just a hint of citrus.
30. How caring/empathetic is your oc? Are they the type to immediately adopt and protect others, or are they a true sadist?
Kindness hasn’t come easily to Theo since he was a child, so I’m not sure if he’s very caring anymore… at least, if he is then he doesn’t outwardly show it. Theo does have a learned kind of empathy, though… just not… a very real kind? Um, so because of the hostile environment he grew up in he had to adapt to subtle changes in expression, mood, and tone… he needed to know when he was in danger, what alert signs there were. The easier people became to read, the more he could feel their emotions spill over and try to pull him in. It’s… not exactly as if he’s sharing the feelings, but more like he has a very real sense of them… it’s almost tangible.
31. What inspired the creation of your oc? Any specific things, a general aesthetic or idea, or something completely random?
Theo is a pretty old character of mine… I’d say he’s been with me for at least five years now. Originally, I think he was just… a vague idea in my head with some aesthetic choices in mind (sweaters, abandoned houses, autumn leaves, dirty shoes)... but over time I started getting more invested. I think one of the main building blocks of his character was actually a really old post I saw about a bloody child bringing a rabbit they'd saved from a hawk into the house and trying to get their mom to notice, but the mom just blew them off because she was busy on the phone… yeah. I kind of got that stuck in my head and built up this neglected kid around it who was a little sarcastic, mean, buried under all kinds of responsibilities, and lonely. His actual appearance in TS4 wasn't even really meant to be him at first, as I'd just been making random male sims at the time and then one of the ones I made kept drawing my attention back to them. I made some slight changes and then I decided that would be Theo. He still looks pretty similar to the original sim, actually.
32. How judgemental is your oc? Do they keep an open mind about people, or are they the type to judge a book by its cover?
Oh, Theo is super judgmental. He’s distrustful of people on principle and highly perceptive, which is an all around bad combination since he can quickly spin the innocuous into something worse. 
33. What five objects or things could be expected to be found on your oc’s person at any time? Why?
Theo has a bag that he keeps his planner, his phone, his keys, some cash, and hand sanitizer in… occasionally there’s some baggies in there if he’s stressed out from too many assignments or pressure from his parents.
34. Does your oc have a pet? If they could have another one or if they were to get one, what would it be? How well could they care for it?
No, Theo has no pets. He wouldn’t even know what kind of pet to get. Theo had never even been around any pets until he met Matthias’s cat. I also think… well. Theo wouldn’t be very good at caring for a pet. Like, I don’t even think he’d be good at feeding fish regularly. He doesn’t have that kind of time and can barely even take care of himself.
35. Does your oc have any distinguishing markings? Scars, tattoos, birthmarks, freckles, etc?
Theo is covered in beauty marks from head to toe. I think his most notable (at least to me) beauty marks are the two under his left eye and the one on the tip of his nose. Theo has no birthmarks, freckles, or tattoos. Theo also has no scars… every violent hand laid on him has been intentional in pulling back just before leaving behind any lasting marks.
36. What is your oc’s fight or flight response like? What sorts of things provoke it the most?
When Theo’s nervous (around other people, in discussions that’re too personal, when confronted by emotions, etc.) I’d say he falsely exhibits the fight response and will become a bit nasty as a defensive maneuver. If he’s pushed past defensive behaviors and is actually put into harm's way, the fight response quickly melts away to his real fear responses. As a specific result of trauma, Theo displays both the fawn and freeze responses. His parents bring about the fawn response and figures of authority bring out the freeze response. I’ll leave it at that.
37. How does your oc handle heavy stress? Do they have any specific coping mechanisms? Are they healthy or not?
Theo is used to stress as he’s been put under a lot of it since he was a teenager. That said, he’s never been able to manage it healthily and his go-to way to cope is by numbing everything out. Theo abuses substances and sex… and I suppose that by nature of both of these coping mechanisms he’s also abusing himself. It’s obviously not good for him and as time goes on he begins to spin out of control.
38. What does your oc do to relax? Any specific activities? Why?
Theo never truly allows himself to relax, like, ever. Hm. I do think there are small moments, though, where he finds some peace. When he’s in his apartment he’ll sometimes reach into the curio cabinet that holds his collection of tiny little bells and give a few of them a ring… the sounds they give off are very sweet and make him smile. In the morning, when he wakes up at his apartment, he likes to watch the birds fluttering about outside his bedroom window; there’s a window box just there that’s home to a nest. He’s never once tried to interact with the birds, though. He just stares and watches silently from his bed.
39. Does your oc have any nicknames? What are the origins of them? If they don’t, can you come up with some possible ones?
Theo is in itself a nickname that he gave himself when he moved out of his parents’ home (Theodore is his full name). Most everyone in his personal life calls him Theo except for his parents, his extended family, and the people that his parents associate with.
Matthias has given Theo a couple personal nicknames and also calls him a bunch of others. My personal favorite of the nicknames Matthias has given Theo is Bambi, which was originally given to him because his last name is Doe (a doe is a kind of deer… hence Matthias reaching for the name of an animated deer). Matthias also calls him Bambi because of his golden brown eyes and because Theo is sort of wobbly and green in Matthias’s eyes, reminding him of that scene wherein Bambi tries to walk for the first time. Matthias also calls Theo mała myszko, which means little mouse in Polish (Matthias’s native language), and he often uses my darling at the same time (like: “My darling, mała myszko, it’s time to get up”). As for regular nicknames, Angel is what Matthias calls Theo most often in the heat of sex (again, a nickname often said alongside my darling, as in: “My darling angel”). There are many more pet names that Matthias calls Theo, but those are the ones he hears most often.
40. What languages does your oc know? Are there any they want to learn but haven’t had the chance to? How good are they at picking up new ones?
Theo is only fluent in English and Spanish, however he can read Hangul and understand Korean when it’s spoken to or around him. He doesn’t have the time to learn any other languages and doesn’t exactly have a desire to either. I think his parents have definitely pushed him to learn more languages as they would benefit his career, but he has too much going on as it is to learn at the moment. 
41. What was the worst injury your oc ever suffered? Has it had any long lasting impact on them?
I’m not going to answer that first part, but I will say that it did impact him grievously and has rippled out through his whole life.
42. Is your oc an optimist or a pessimist? Any particular reason why?
Theo’s a pessimist. He’s never had much to be happy about and is on a path in his life that is being entirely puppeteered by his parents. Theo has nothing to look forward to and feels like his life is out of his own control and already over. 
Through the course of the little story that I have for Echthroi in my head, however, Theo does eventually move away from the pessimism. I don’t think he becomes an optimist exactly, but he smiles more and finds things to look forward to in his life.
43. How important are the rules to your oc? Do they follow them to a t, or do they enjoy breaking them?
Theo definitely has a history as a rule follower. He can’t really help it, not with the way he was raised. He had rebellious moments as a teenager—refusing to sit down for a haircut, stabbing a needle through his own ears to pierce them—but those were things he did to incite his parents’ attention. Now, though… well. I think he still follows most rules, but he does use drugs… pretty big rule to break there, legally speaking.
44. How violent is your oc? Or are they more of a pacifist? To what lengths will they go to start/avoid a conflict?
Theo is all bark and no bite. He’ll lash out if he’s frightened, he’ll insult and dismiss, but the second he sees a telling twitch of the hand or building tension in the jaw he goes quiet and retreats. He’s only ever tried fighting back a few times… he doesn’t have it in him anymore.
45. How is your oc around animals? What about children?
Theo isn’t good with children and is awkward and fumbling with animals. He’s never been around a lot of kids, but… I don’t know. I think seeing children hurts him, a lot of the time. The happier they are, the more Theo wants to escape. With animals… he doesn’t know how to touch them or even how to approach. Matthias’s cat, Odious, is very friendly and makes Theo freeze up when she comes over to lay in his lap. It takes him months to get used to her. He doesn’t hate either of them to be clear. Like, he’s not a total weirdo, he just… he doesn’t know how to act around them.
46. Does your oc lie a lot, or is the truth very important to them? What is their reaction to other people lying to them?
Theo isn’t a very good liar but he has a lot that he has to keep secret… because of this, he’s learned how to skirt around the truth and evades questions that poke and prod with ease. However, I think despite how frequently he tells half-truths, he’s actually someone who doesn’t like lying. He’s used to being told lies, though. He’s been lied to rather often and even though he can see through it effortlessly now that he’s had so many years to catch on to the signs, it still hurts him. He doesn’t outwardly show that he knows the truth, but internally it tears him up.
47. How much of a prankster is your oc? Are their pranks truly evil, or more harmless, positive ones?
Theo doesn’t like pranks. He doesn’t like startling people and doesn’t find it humorous. He doesn’t ever want to make anyone feel fear. He knows what that’s like all too well.
48. What are your oc’s nervous tics? Are they aware of them? Do they attempt to hide them?
I was going to say Theo has no nervous tics, but I suppose the way he lashes out is a kind of nervous tic. Physically speaking, though, Theo shows next to no signs of distress. He isn’t someone who fidgets ever, though he does still get the urge to at times. If he ever slips up and moves a hand clumsily in the air or shifts uncomfortably, he’ll catch himself and freeze, righting himself without drawing any more attention to himself. 
Theo is still skittish, though. Like, he won’t shift around or bounce a leg, but he startles easily. Call his name and he jumps, make a loud noise and he jumps, say something unexpectedly and he jumps. He’s never been able to hide that.
49. What would be the perfect gift for your oc? What would be their reaction to receiving it?
If you gave Theo a bell his cheeks would get all pink and he wouldn’t be able to look away from it… he’d hold it very gently in his hands, not wanting to drop it. He’d say thank you all soft and quiet, then place it with the rest of his collection. He’d smile to himself, but he wouldn’t smile at you. 
I also think bandaging Theo up would feel like a gift to him. No one’s ever taken care of him like that before.
50. How attentive is your oc? How perceptive are they? How easily do they get distracted?
Theo’s incredibly perceptive and when he’s focused on one thing it’s almost impossible to pull his attention away from it. He’s pretty discipled, honestly, because of all the studying and the focus he’s needed to keep up with it. I think Matthias is the only person who can distract Theo… the ways in which he goes about doing that are best left to the imagination. Have fun.
51. If your oc was to receive an award for something, what would it most likely be for? Have they received any awards in the past?
Theo’s won many different kinds of academic awards throughout school. Honestly… I don’t know any specific awards I’d give him…
52. In what ways does your oc cope with anger? How easily angered are they? Do they lash out?
Theo only lashes out when he’s scared, not from anger. Anger is an emotion that frightens Theo, that colors his cheeks with shame. He’s been on the receiving end of anger most of his life, so to feel it himself is… horrifying. I think Theo believes anger forces your hand, that it’s always this uncontrollable act of violence no matter what. He represses his anger frantically, desperate not to frighten anyone, not to hurt. He’s very hard to make angry and there’s next to nothing someone could do to make him act on his anger, even if it would be justified. He gets annoyed, he huffs, he rolls his eyes, he insults, but he never raises his voice, he never throws his fist, he never threatens. 
53. If your oc was to host a podcast or TV show, what would it be about? Would your oc actually be good at it? What sorts of guests would appear?
Theo would rather watch paint dry than host any kind of show, let’s be clear. However, I think he has a very good podcast voice. I can imagine him doing a podcast where he reads to you until you fall asleep. No guests, just his voice.
54. How would you describe your oc’s voice to sound like? Do you have any voice claims for them?
Theo is soft-spoken. His voice is unassuming and haunting… you close your eyes to listen and feel the chills running up your arms. He pronounces his words almost delicately, giving an alluring color to his voice. Like a mirage in the desert, you want to drink it in, to hold it in your own mouth just to taste it for a while. When Theo speaks, you get the impression that he’s not all there, something disengaged in his tone. It drives people to take a step closer, wanting to hear more of it, to be worthy of his full attention. It’s a voice you could listen to every day and still find yourself drawing a blank when trying to imagine the avatar behind it.
No voice claims.
55. How sensitive to loud sound is your oc? Do they prefer constant high background noise, low background noise, or complete silence?
Theo is very jumpy around loud noises. If he isn’t prepared for it (like knowingly heading into a club where the music is going to be booming) he’ll flinch and turn his eyes to the ground quickly, shaking out his hands before going statue-still again. Theo prefers complete silence or quiet background noises like a fan or soft, melodious music.
56. What is your oc’s favorite color? If you had to choose one color to represent your oc, what would it be and why?
Theo’s favorite color is probably some shade of red. And I think a fiery orange represents Theo well. Theo reminds me a lot of fire… he’s someone who keeps standing still while smoke is pouring out of his ears, burning quietly in the middle of an abandoned room.
57. How good is your oc’s sight? Do they wear glasses? Do they need glasses? Do they have some form of night vision?
Theo has perfect eyesight.
58. How would you describe your oc’s appearance to someone who’s looking for them? What features would be most identifiable?
I’d probably start waxing poetic about him, honestly. I’d just be giving way too much detail… like:
Theo’s features are delicate and soft-edged. He’s slender with narrow shoulders and of average height. His skin is light brown with a dark smattering of moles all over. His face is round and ruddy cheeked. His brows are straight and dark. His eyes are a light golden brown, sometimes mistaken for hazel, with puffy bags underneath that give a youthful yet tired appearance. His nose is button shaped with a straight bridge. His lips are plump and full. His hair is dark brown and tumbles down to his collarbone in thick waves. His gaze is cool, assessing. He carries such an air of hurt around him that your heart aches when you see him. You could fall in love with him easily.
I think whoever I’m giving instructions to would forget half of what I’d said and only remember the part where I mentioned his long hair. And… hm… I’d say his ruddy cheeks are his most identifiable feature for sure.
59. How good at cooking is your oc? What can they cook/what is their favorite thing to cook?
I think Theo is very bad at taking care of himself, so he actually forgets to eat frequently now that he’s living on his own for college. Regardless… I think he’s decent at cooking. Despite his family having enough money that they easily could’ve hired help around their home, they didn’t. This means that Theo had to fend for himself at a pretty young age. He knows how to cook pretty basic food, but the way he cooks is… messy. He doesn’t have a favorite thing to cook.
60. How good is your oc at keeping track of time? Are they always late, always early, or always right on time?
Hm… I think Theo actually loses track of time a lot, courtesy of his drug use and memory problems, so he has a handful of recurring alarms set on his phone. He’s always on time because of that. He’d feel sick if he were ever late to something he was required to be at, actually… especially if it was a family event.
61. Is your oc more quick-thinking, or do they take longer to figure things out?
Theo catches on quickly. He’s incredibly perceptive and sees what others cannot with ease. Early on in Theo’s childhood he had to learn how to pick up on subtleties in expressions, on double meanings to words, on tone, on gestures… he had to pick everything apart to protect himself, and as he grew that skill of his did as well and aided him in seeing patterns. He’s able to find answers faster than most other people just from deduction.
62. How quick is your oc? Do they have faster or slower reflexes? What things are they quickest at?
Perhaps it’s due to his good eyesight or his peerless perception, but Theo’s reflexes are incredibly fast. He’s good at running, too, and is lightning quick on his feet. I think he’d have done amazingly in track and field if he ever went for it in school. He's really good at soccer for this reason. Despite his stamina being pretty average, Theo’s the kind of person who will push himself harder and harder even when his body’s telling him to pull back. If he dedicated real time to it, I think he could train for a couple of years and come back playing better than anyone.
63. How self-disciplined is your oc? Do they often think before they act, or the other way around?
Theo always thinks things over first and isn’t one for snap decisions. In fact, I’d say Theo actually makes himself sick from how much thinking he’s always doing. One of the many reasons Theo uses drugs is because of how effective they are at shutting off his brain. He’s inundated by the responsibilities of his life—of which he feels he has no control over—and loses whenever he tries outrunning the thoughts that swirl around in his head. Drugs are the easiest way he’s found to get it all to just… stop.
Theo is also very serious about his education, and, in that way, he’s admirably self-disciplined. 
64. Which of the seven deadly sins does your oc fall under most? What about the seven heavenly virtues?
Hm… picking a sin for Theo is surprisingly hard. I think Theo’s strongest sin is… maybe envy? Definitely not gluttony or greed, though, that’s for sure.
As for the heavenly virtues, I think Theo best exemplifies fortitude, followed by prudence and temperance.
65. If you were to give your oc a new superpower, what would you choose and why? If *they* were to be able to choose, what would it be and why?
I think I’d want to give Theo something he could use to protect himself and that would offer him a sense of comfort. Maybe just give him invulnerability outright or something subtler that would make it easy for him to escape situations he doesn’t want to be in. Flight? Invisibility? 
As for Theo, I think he’d want something repellant. A forcefield of some kind…?
66. What sort of advice would people go to your oc for? What sort of advice is your oc actually good at giving?
Theo isn’t good at giving advice and would shake his head at being asked.
67. How many people does your oc prefer to be around? A crowd, a few friends, or all on their own?
Theo is interesting in that he’s a loner but he also goes out of his way to enter clubs and join throngs of people in the ebb and flow of dance, blending in with them in the dark. I think Theo is actually lonely at his core and ultimately is unhappy being so solitary—a truth he neither acknowledges to himself nor to others. A small group of people who he trusts and loves would soothe him best.
68. What sorts of things would cheer your oc up when they’re down? Is your oc sad often, or is it more rare?
Calling Theo sad would be an understatement. Theo’s full of woe and has little in his life that brings him joy. I think he’s very used to the way he feels but… I do think simple things would make him smile. Something as easy as saying that he’s been missed would do the trick. Just… the implication that he’s been thought of and isn’t easily forgotten… yeah.
69. How energetic is your oc? Are they constantly tired, or constantly bouncing off the walls?
Theo has the weight of the world on his shoulders and is operating on just a few hours of sleep most days, so he’s pretty much low energy up until the moment he’s free of his responsibilities and can let loose. You can see him start to come alive when he’s partying, even while sober—his cheeks flush, his eyes light up, and his body moves fluidly. It’s only when he’s on uppers that he actually starts bouncing off the walls.
70. What about your oc’s lifestyle would they change if they had the ability? Why?
I don’t think Theo would even know where to begin… 
71. What is your oc’s go-to for offense? What weapon, what style of fighting? Or are words more their weapon of choice?
I don’t actually think Theo has any offensive preferences, because he’s not really a fighter. That human instinct to fight back was trained out of him very young… so. Yeah. He does have a scathing way of speaking that can definitely be used to hurt, though.
72. What is your oc’s ideal environment like? Urban or natural? Fancy or rustic? What’s the weather like?
Theo wants to be away from it all. He wants to be unreachable. The further away he is from other people, the better. So… somewhere where there’s more nature than there are buildings. As for the weather… hm… Theo prefers cool weather as he likes bundling up, but he doesn’t want to be stuck in the snow all the time. A nice, mild climate.
73. If your oc were to be arrested, what would it most likely be for? Is it justified? Have they actually been arrested before?
Well… I think I’m going to have to say the drug use is probably what’d do him in. Is it justified…? Well, he does use drugs… but I personally don’t think drugs should be criminalized and instead believe in harm reduction.
74. How would your oc act when drunk? What about when really, really tired?
Theo actually doesn’t get drunk very often as he doesn’t really like the taste of alcohol and would rather just use drugs. When he does drink enough to get intoxicated, I think the effect is pretty similar to how he is when he’s on milder drugs. Drunk Theo is unrestrained in how he moves, letting himself be as unrefined as he couldn’t be as a child. He waves his hands around and bounces his legs to let out some energy. He throws his head back when he’s feeling good without fear of being told to mind his manners. His inhibitions are all but nonexistent and he speaks whatever thoughts come to mind. All of those walls he’s built up around himself come tumbling down and he forgets why he was ever afraid to exist as he is in the first place.
Theo becomes sluggish and irritable (...more irritable than he normally is, anyway) when he’s stayed up for far too long. He has little time for anyone else and is focused solely on whatever it is that’s been keeping him up. He gets dizzy when he’s lacking sleep and has a hard time staying on task, though. He doesn’t normally let himself get this tired, but it does happen. He has a lot of trouble getting himself to fall asleep after he reaches this point. Whenever Matthias sees Theo like this, he’ll walk Theo to the bath even as Theo huffs and complains testily. He’ll wait for the tub to fill up while he brushes out Theo’s hair and kisses down his neck, speaking softly to Theo all the while. He’ll get Theo in the water and either slide in behind him or sit just outside the bath. He’ll wash Theo’s hair and gently scrub his body, unbothered when Theo’s head falls back onto his shoulder or against his chest, soaking through his shirt. Theo normally becomes fully pliant by the time Matthias is pulling him out of the water, staying quiet as Matthias dries him off, dresses him, and lays him down in the bed. Matthias will only be away for a moment to grab a book before coming back to hold Theo, blocking the door from Theo’s sight. Theo sleeps like a baby after all of that and Matthias lays awake holding him until noon.
75. What would your oc’s dream home be like? How big would it be? What sorts of rooms would be in it? Where would it be located?
Truthfully, Theo doesn’t like big open spaces. I think there’s a loneliness to big houses that unsettles him. He could never feel comfortable somewhere with too many doors, either… too many shadowy corners, not enough assurance that someone couldn’t be hiding in them. So Theo would rather live somewhere smaller, with just the right amount of space for him and all of his things. Honestly, his apartment is pretty perfect for him already.
76. What is/was your oc’s relationship with their family like? Was it happy, tense, or abusive? What living family does your oc currently have, if any?
Theo’s relationship with his parents has always been one of control. Theo doesn’t speak unless spoken to and falls in line at their every word. His father has plans for Theo to join him in his business and his mother begrudgingly allows it, though she would have rather had him following in her footsteps. Theo’s parents see him as a tool… of which they’ve had to beat into proper shape. Theo grew up under the tender care of his childhood au pair while his parents focused on their careers and their status, and it was only when Theo became old enough that he could take care of himself that they sent away his au pair and decided it was their turn to step in. He’d experienced abuse at the hands of his parents before, but his au pair had shielded him from much more than he was ever even aware of. When his parents would leave him to his own devices he found solace in isolation. His mid-teens were when things got worse for him, but his parents weren’t as physical with him past that as he’d learned to behave how they wanted. Now as an adult he’s no longer under their roof but still comes when they call on him. He’s desperate for their affection and approval, of which he never sees.
77. Does your oc like to wear any particular accessories? Hats, jewelry, scarves, etc.?
Theo likes to wear jewelry. He always has a pair of earrings on and will occasionally throw on a necklace. He doesn’t have any particular set he prefers to wear, but he does go for gold more than silver. 
78. How socially skilled is your oc? Are they good at understanding social cues? How charismatic are they?
Theo’s actually very charismatic without trying to be and when he does intentionally turn on the charm (mostly when his parents are requiring him to be at their little soirées) he becomes irresistible. Being a moth caught in his light is… blissful. He picks up on social cues without breaking a sweat and is very good at playing along when he needs to.
But, on a personal level, Theo lacks a social life. He has the people he associates with at parties, but he doesn’t view them as his friends (even though they are…) and doesn’t communicate with them outside of the clubs they go to (even though they try to keep in contact with him). When he doesn’t have to play pretend for his parents, he’s actually pretty hard to get along with and most people resort to watching him from afar. He’s still charming, mind you, but he’s not… um, nice, exactly.
79. For what reason would your oc turn into a villain? And if they’re already a villain, vice-versa?
Honestly… Theo’s been put through a lot and he’s still good at his core, so I can’t imagine there’s anything that could turn him into a villain… that’s just not who he is.
80. What is your oc’s handwriting like? How easy is it to read? Can they write/read cursive?
Theo’s handwriting is even and strong. He doesn’t waste time by adding any extravagant details and has a print style that is consistent from letter to letter. He writes in print almost exclusively, but he does use cursive when he’s writing more formal letters. His cursive is similar to his print in that it’s written with a heavy hand and each stroke is dark and thick.  
81. How good is your oc at drawing? What is their preferred art medium, and what is their artstyle like?
Theo’s never really sat down to draw before… or, at least, not since he was a child. Nevertheless, I do think he’d be good at it if he took the time to practice for a year or two. Theo puts his all into studying, so I imagine he’d work tirelessly at it. He’d do those one-drawing-a-day challenges and he’d push himself to think outside of the box. His art would be incredibly creative… I wish he’d allow himself that.
82. What would be your oc’s ultimate dream vacation? Where would they go? Who would they take with them? What would they do?
Theo doesn’t have an “ultimate dream vacation” in his back pocket… like, there’s nothing he fantasizes about. He can’t even think of a concrete destination that he’d want to go for a vacation. He would just get stressed trying to think of something and then he’d freak out about how far behind it’d put him academically… it’d ripple out to the rest of his responsibilities and he’d be lost. He can’t let that happen.
83. What is your oc’s favorite trait about themselves? What about their least liked? What would others like and dislike the most about your oc?
I’ve been thinking this over a lot, because, y’know, Theo really doesn’t like himself. He has a serious amount of self-loathing pulling him down, so it’s hard really coming up with anything he likes about himself. But I think Theo might actually like how perceptive he is, because it’s what keeps him safe. I’m not saying it’s his favorite thing, because that implies he’s got other traits he really likes and that’s really not the case. As for his least liked trait, I think Theo thinks his desires are sticky and pathetic and horrible.
In general, I think most people find Theo’s magnetism to be, well, very alluring. The combination of the way Theo carries himself and speaks has an appeal that draws people in. He’s interesting. At times he’s all sharp edges and closed off whereas other times he’s all blurry and open. As for what people dislike about him, it’s most likely how dismissive he is when you get off on the wrong foot with him.
Matthias in particular loves how intelligent and wry Theo is… and he actually likes how dismissive Theo can be with people. Really, he just likes everything.
84. Is your oc more masculine, feminine, androgynous, or something else entirely?
I think Theo’s pretty masculine, though he does wear some androgynous clothing on occasion.
85. What would history remember your oc for? How would they become famous? Or are they the sort that would really only be appreciated long after their death?
In the Echthroi universe, Theo isn’t someone who seeks the spotlight. However, that’s certainly something his parents want for him… hm. I think he’s well known in the upper echelons of his parents’ circle for his intelligence, his manners, and his arresting appearance. I think he’s also famous on his campus… I think a lot of people would like to covet Theo. I don’t think Theo would ever become proper famous, though… like, I have a really hard time even conceptualizing fame for him, just like I have a hard time seeing that for Matthias.
86. What would someone assume about your oc based on their appearance? Would those assumptions be correct?
Hm… on appearance alone, I think Theo gives off a sort of cool elegance. I think he seems doleful and… honestly, a little intimidating. He’s gorgeous, so… you have to be very confident to approach him. Most people would assume he’s dismissive and stuck-up… that he’s quiet… flirtatious… 
I think he definitely does give the cold shoulder a lot of the time and he’s not very talkative, so those would be true. He’s not stuck-up, though… he does keep himself at a distance, but it’s not from some kind of arrogance or self-importance, but rather because he’s desperate to keep himself safe. He’s also only flirty when he’s intoxicated and it’s more reactive than pursuant.
87. What are some of your oc’s physical weak spots? What about emotional/moral ones?
Theo is weak to any kind of affection that’s all soft and sweet. He’s weak to being kissed, to being bitten, to fingers grazing behind his knees, to any kind of touch along his inner thighs. His skin gets sensitive when he’s touched and touched and touched. Emotionally, he’s weak to anger or violence. Morally, he’s weak to his own behaviors and can be unthinkingly cruel or hurtful without just cause. He’s weak to his parents.
88. Does your oc hold grudges? For how long? Does your oc have any rivals?
Theo will hold a grudge until his very last breath. He is very judgmental and forms all these little notions about people before they’ve even spoken a word to him… and then that influences every interaction they have with him afterward. So, you can be nice to Theo, but if he makes a snap judgment about you that’s unfavorable, then he’s going to blow you off. Is he wrong in the judgments he makes? Well… okay, so, not really? Theo is very good at reading people and there are very few times he’s wrong.
That said, Theo's grudges are only the petty, meaningless kind. When it comes to the people who really, truly deserve it, Theo is frustratingly forgiving. Or, not even forgiving, exactly, but rather... he just doesn't acknowledge the real wrongs that've been done to him.
89. What does your oc’s laugh sound like? How often do they laugh? Are they easily amused?
Oh, an angel’s choir. No, I’m kidding… kind of.
Theo’s laugh is very hard to come by because he doesn’t have very much to laugh about. He doesn’t even smile—like, really, truly smile—often. Theo’s pretty much stressed out and exhausted at all times. The only time he’s loosened up is when he’s using drugs to numb everything.
When Theo’s using, he smiles all lopsided and watery, but there’s no light behind his eyes. He’s put together all wrong, you know? He doesn’t really laugh, but he makes these quiet huffing noises when something’s funny to him, often a private joke he’s told himself in his own head.
When he’s sober and he laughs… it’s kind of devastating. The sound of his laugh is similar to his voice, all light and captivating, but there’s this quality to it… this unbridled feeling that Theo almost never shows… that catches everyone off guard. He laughs almost like a child, gasping with it and full-bodied. In that same way, Theo’s happiness and joy is clumsy and innocent. There’s no artifice to it, no rehearsed grace, nothing held back… he laughs until there’s tears in his eyes… and then he just starts crying.
90. Does your oc have any objects they could never give up? Why is it so important to them? Do they have any family heirlooms?
Theo’s deeply attached to his things so there’s a lot that he wouldn’t want to give up. If I had to pick just one object… hm… I think it’s a tie between his memory journal and the perfume his mother gave him when he was a teenager. His memory journal is what’s keeping him together at this point and he relies on it a lot. As for the perfume, it was a gift from his mother after he was accepted into Yale. He’d never be able to part with it (despite it not being to his taste) because it’s the only gift she’s ever given him. 
He’s not in possession of any family heirlooms, but if he were then he’d worry himself sick over them. He’d be terrified of something happening to them and being responsible for it. God… he’d be a mess.
91. What is your oc’s typical posture like? Do they slouch, or stand straight? How much space do they usually take up, both physically and figuratively?
Theo has a respectable upright posture and doesn’t slouch at all. If he’s around his family he’ll stand rigidly with his hands behind his back, holding onto one of his wrists as he listens to the conversations around him. On his own, he tries to keep his hands down at his sides but often finds himself moving to cross his arms over his chest. He doesn’t take up much space physically and keeps himself rather contained, but figuratively speaking… well… Theo has a compelling presence and in that way he’s felt all around the room.
92. What trait does your oc appreciate or admire the most in others? Why?
I think Theo admires when people can just… exist with ease. That freedom he sees in others makes him feel envious and he wishes he had that for himself.
93. What is your oc’s preferred learning style? Observation, hands-on, instruction? Do they take notes or memorize?
Theo prefers to learn via instruction and direction. He wants to be able to read each step carefully and then double back when he needs to. He takes a ton of notes as he uses repetition to help him learn, so oftentimes he’ll go back over his own notes and write them out again.
94. Does your oc rely more on a logical or emotional mindset? What situations would this be the opposite?
I’d say Theo’s more on the logical side than the emotional side… but the way in which he uses logic does stem from an emotional place, if that makes sense? Deep down Theo is scared and just wants to keep himself safe, so he leans on logic more than emotions as he feels that emotions make him weak. 
I think Theo’s walls come down in the face of genuine love and affection.
95. How is your oc about keeping someone else’s secret? Are they the gossiping type, or do they hold true on their promise to keep things quiet?
Theo’s someone who has a lot of secrets, so he’s very good at keeping them. I think he’d never want to break someone’s trust by gossiping. I mean, he also doesn't really have anyone he’d gossip to in the first place… still. He’d keep it to himself no matter what.
96. Describe your oc in three words. What three words would they use to describe themselves?
Oh, well… in order to describe him to others, I’d say Theo is reticent, touchy, and hungry at his core for something he hasn’t yet allowed himself to name (this isn’t one word, but you get it).
Theo has an unstable sense of self and has a very hard time understanding who he is, so when asked to describe himself he wouldn’t know what to say. Questions like this put him under a lot of stress… I think he’d dissociate just from being asked to try.
97. How old is your oc physically? How old are they in mental maturity? When are they most mature, and when are they the least?
Theo is in his early twenties (I don’t have an exact estimation for him, but somewhere between 21 at minimum and 24 at maximum). Mentally… there’s a lot of conflict and inconsistency there (intentionally done!). I’d say Theo is incredibly independent but he’s also financially reliant and emotionally dependent on his parents. He had to grow up at a very young age and in that sense he’s mature, but he also has a lot of childhood trauma and it’s definitely stunted him in some ways. I think Theo has… a very interesting mentality. He’s all over the place and he’s constantly at odds with his own self. There’s a lot going on with him at any given time. His mind is always racing. 
98. Is your oc the type to have a lot of fairly good friends, have a small group of close friends, have one or two best friends, or have no friends at all? Who are they closest to?
Theo refuses to let people get close to him and believes himself to be unworthy of even platonic love, so no… he doesn’t have any friends. Or, rather, Theo doesn’t have anyone he thinks are his friends. In actuality, Theo has four friends that he’s picked up from his time clubbing. He doesn’t see them unless they’re in a party setting, so that might be why Theo views them as being mere acquaintances and nothing more… he puts his nightlife into a little box and tucks that box away in his mind. 
99. What is your oc’s morning routine usually like? What do they eat for breakfast (if they have breakfast)? What time do they usually get up in the morning?
Theo wakes up and is kind of out of it for a few minutes. He lays in the bed and has to take stock of where he is first, because some mornings he finds himself in someone else’s bed. If he’s at someone else’s place, he’s dressed and out of there in under five minutes without so much as a goodbye. If he’s in his own home, he lays in bed for a while, staring without really seeing whatever’s in front of him. He gives himself those few minutes of peace and then he’s sluggishly pulling himself out of bed and getting ready for whatever’s on his schedule. He’s normally up by 7AM and doesn’t eat breakfast.
100. Does your character ever swear? How often? How vulgar is their swearing?
Theo swears occasionally but it’s not, like, in every sentence. He’s not particularly vulgar and instead just says the standard everyday swears. I think he says damn it under his breath more than anything.
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calcescarp · 2 years
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putting off the last chapter of CF for 3 days in a row because i do not want to kill Him.........
#i'm literally so pathetic skdnskdnsmdnmdnsmndms#i'm like somewhat normal as a human being (<- lie) until characters get involved#to be entirely honest with you i do not think i would be able to play Fates as often as i have if Leo died#like this is my 2nd or 3rd time trying to finish CF but getting stalled by the mere idea of killing Dimitri#if i finish CF this time. it will be my first time finishing it. ever. IN THE 3 YEARS THIS GAME HAS BEEN OUT SKDJSK#i'm literally the most pathetic person ever when there is a Character#i'm telling myself that if i get through this chapter i'll get to start over and do SS and have tea with him......#but then i remember he's gonna die anyway. i'm 99% sure#AND NO ONE CORRECT ME IF I'M WRONG. i'd rather that be a fun little surprise for me#anyway i'm very normal#talking tag#rue plays fe3h#edit: I'M GONNA DO IT TOMORROW I THINK? i mean i might do it tonight bc my hair is wet which means i can't sleep yet. so i guess i can do#last chapter of CF and knock out some White Clouds since it'll be. literally the same as i just did skdjsk just without as much dread#i still need to hammer out my recruits for SS but i think i'm gonna do that as i go along#because i'll mostly be checking for what supports i want#so far the team i've decided on: Linhardt + Caspar + Seteth + Flayn with some possibles: Raphael + Ingrid + Sylvain#BUT IDK idk idk those possibles are super undecided#i just want happy fun times with Raphael and Ingrid talking about food okay#and some eye candy with dancer Sylvain#i'm trying to get myself to Just Have Some Fun to get me through it#so i can sustain myself until i get to play AM again
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ghost-proofbaby · 3 months
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fictional boyfriends (e.m.)
summary: eddie gets jealous of your newest fictional boyfriend from a game he got you into.
warnings: kinda sweet. kinda cringe. eddie is jealous of astarion. twilight reference jumpscare. not edited. biting and vague mentions of sex at the end.
wc: 2.5k+
a/n: this is the dumbest, cringiest thing i have ever written. but on this side of town, we embrace the cringe <3 happy valentine's day, enjoy me combining my current favorite fictional men (astarion and eddie) for my own personal delight. maybe one day i'll write a serious fic regarding the biting kink
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It’s not that biting had ever been off the table with Eddie, per se.
Nips between kisses, using a little more teeth when he’d kiss across your neck, a joking sinking of your teeth into his shoulder when you were vying for his attention — they were all normal occurrences between the two of you. There was just never much discussion about it. No conversation explicitly had in which the two of you said, “Why, yes. This is something I’d like to bring into the bedroom.” 
Until that damn game.
When Eddie introduced you to Baldur’s Gate 3, the last thing he expected was to watch all your free time you used to spend pestering him suddenly handed over to some fictional vampire. He thought it’d be a game you tried, grew tired of, lost interest in, and that was that. Nothing more, nothing less. He didn’t expect a sudden competition for your goddamn affections. 
“Baby, please come to bed,” he all but whines as he drapes himself over your shoulders, trying to nudge off your headphones. He could feel just how warm your ears had grown beneath them. He swears he can feel your back crack from the slightest bit of his weight on your shoulders. And, sue him — he was tired and he wanted to cuddle. 
“One more minute,” you mumble the same phrase to him that he has used a million times on you; he instantly knows it’ll be far more than just sixty more seconds if he agrees, “Let me just finish this-“
“No,” he’s still whining, but it’s more stern now as he properly removes your headset, earning a glare from your bloodshot eyes, “You’ve been playing this game all afternoon, sweetheart. I think I might die if you don’t offer me some immediate attention. Truly.”
For emphasis, he lays more of his body weight on you, your chair creaking from holding up both of you now. 
“Eddie,” you moan out, wiggling beneath his dead-weight, “I swear to God, get off of me-“
“I’ll get off of you if you come to bed.”
You pause. Your hands hover near your keyboard and mouse, but you’re no longer walking your avatar across the world of Baldur’s Gate, and he knows he has you considering it.
More weight. More groans. At this rate, he’s questioning if your chair won’t break from his outrageous method to get your attention. 
“Fine.” 
The small yes he lets out only earns him a punch to the shoulder. But it gets you off the game, and that’s still a win for him.
He doesn’t even care about appearing over eager as you follow him back to the bedroom. He’s gone as far as preparing the bed, pillows fluffed and comforted pulled back while awaiting your arrival. He’s already washed his face and brushed his teeth (something he usually fights you on as you nag him before bed), and the moment he’s got you in the room with him, he’s dragging you right onto the mattress with him.
“You’re gonna hurt us!” you yelp as he wraps his arms around you and flops down, dragging you with him, but it’s through a laugh. He knows you really couldn’t care less — he’d never deliberately injure you, irritated about your newest fictional boyfriend or not. 
“Oh, no,” he mocks, rolling so you’re laying on top of him, “What ever will you do if I injure one of your precious wrists, and you can’t use it to flirt with your new boy toy tomorrow?” 
“Astarion would be devastated,” you giggle into his chest, not moving off of him despite all your protests. It’s nice — to feel the full weight of you, to just get to bury his nose in the crown of your head as he shamelessly inhales the sweet lingering scent of your coconut shampoo, “He’s even needier than you.” 
“Yeah, ‘cause you serve as his functional juice box.”
“I do not!” you wiggle against him, and it only makes him tighten his arms, “He’s needy because he loves me.”
“Well that makes one of us.” 
Your head lifts off his chest in an instant, faux offense shadowing your features, “You tryin’ to say you don’t love me, Munson?”
He smirks, pressing his lips together tightly, making you huff in frustration. 
Of course he loves you. There wouldn’t be a ring in his sock drawer that he’s terrified of you finding if he didn’t. 
You pout, subtly and adorably so, starting to lift off of him, “If you’re going to be mean, I’m just going to go back to someone who appreciates me-“
“Mean?” he scoffs, enjoying himself far too much. He’s missed your attention, your affection. The effect it has on him is similar to a high, making him dizzy on serotonin as he rolls over and pins you between him and the mattress, “Oh, baby, that’s not me being mean. I can show you mean, if you want.” 
He’s always thought you looked prettiest like this. Under him, eyes wide as you look up at him as if he’s the only thing in this room worth looking at. Worth more than your prized bookshelf, more interesting than all the various posters the two of you have hung on the walls. You look at him as though he’s the greatest thing to exist in these four walls, and he doesn’t take it lightly when your favorite albums and candles are right there.
“You don’t have a mean bone in your body, Munson,” you whisper softly, face going soft for him. The two of you are still surely joking around, the playfulness of it all thick in the air, but there’s something genuine in your words that makes him even more enamored with you. 
He should have predicted you’d fall for Astarion when he showed you the game. You had a thing for people who put up the tough front, but who really just needed a little extra softness and patience under the surface. He was living proof of it.
Unlike your fictional vampire boyfriend. 
“Yeah?” he taunts, leaning down until the tip of his nose brushes yours. His hair works like a curtain, messy as ever as he shields the two of you from the outside world. One of your hands have crept up so that you palm rests against his cheek, and he can hardly remember that flare of jealousy that had gnawed at him when you’d spent your entire afternoon absorbed in the game instead of him, “I bet I could be meaner than Astarion. Although, I’m not sure just how mean that man has ever been to you, given all the war crimes you commit for his approval-“
He’s cut off when the thumb of the hand cradling his face trails up, pressing on his bottom lip. It only makes him grow even closer to you, pressing in, drawn by your touch.
You squint your eyes at him jokingly before cooing, “Someone sounds jealous.”
“Damn right,” he doesn’t even try to deny it, caught in the web of your trap with ease, “Does your pixelated lover even know what a catch he’s got?” 
You snort adorably at that. He pulls away to see the full force of your laughter, lifting up into his elbows to admire how your face scrunches with your smile. He bets Astarion would make some sarcastic comment about it — about the crinkles by your eyes that he aches to pepper with kisses, about the indents in your cheeks when you smile this wide, about the sound of your genuine laughter when you unrestrained and entirely comfortable like this. But there’s not a single joke forming on Eddie’s tongue. He’s all but hypnotized. 
God, he fucking loves you. So much so he’s jealous of a video game character.
“I’m not sure I’d consider this,” you lift the hand not holding him carefully still to motion at your current state of being, “A catch, my love.” 
He has to disagree. Messy hair or not, wrinkled pajamas or not.  You’re the greatest catch of this entire existence; not just Eddie’s, but the Universe’s. Nothing you could say or point out would deter him from this belief. He loves you, mess and all.
“My love?” he chooses to tease instead, all the words of affection threatening to choke him if he so much as considers letting them pour out, “I like the sound of that. If that’s the Astarion effect, maybe he isn’t so bad after all.”  
His elbows are sinking deeper into the mattress. With every passing second, his face is dropping closer to yours, and he’s not sure if it’s by instinct or choice. But when his lips finally brush yours, he decides it’s all the same — it doesn’t really matter what sort of gravity is at work here, as long as it keeps bringing him down closer to you.
“Shut up about the game and kiss me, Eddie.” 
He doesn’t have to be told twice.
The kiss is as sweet as ever. A comfortable dance that still sends shivers down his spine. If either of you looked closer at his arms bracketing your shoulders, you’d see the goosebumps raising as you eagerly returned all his affection.
You taste like the chocolates you’d been snacking on during your gaming. You taste like the greatest gift ever given, and he doesn’t care if he’s exaggerating or not. You’re divine — his favorite good morning and his only goodnight. 
And he’d say all that, but you’d probably accuse him of trying too hard to be like Astarion. Probably bring up that ridiculous line the character once said about you being made by the Gods, just to ruin him.
You were, though. Made by the Gods, specifically to ruin Eddie. Fuck the game. 
“You know,” he whispers against your lips, breaking for air as he adjusts positions. Your thighs open up and welcome him home, letting him slot right between your legs comfortably. He’s not trying to seduce you, but he can’t even be mad about it. He feels like a starved man now that your attention has been divided as of late, “If you wanted a lover who bites, all you had to do was ask, darling.” 
If you weren’t so wrapped up in the kisses he was pressing down your jaw and along your neck, you would have ripped him to shreds for the awful impersonation. 
But you’re already far gone, lost in his touches and his adorations. You let the half-assed attempt at a British accent slide, and you even bare your neck to him at the minute threat. 
Biting had never been off the table, per se, and Eddie was really fucking glad for it.
When he presses one, two, three greedy kisses to that sweet spot just below your ear, he has one intention in mind. Not his usual sucking and nipping and soothing, not leaving behind one of his ordinary love bites. No, he lets himself get caught up in the moment, and when he catches that quiver of excitement the moment he drags his teeth over your neck carefully, he’s fully committed to his decision.
He bites.
Not hard enough to draw blood, or even be terribly painful. He knows it’s nothing like the game or any of your subsequent fantasies you might have had from it. His canines are fairly dull, even as they dig carefully into the skin of your neck, holding for a moment for effect. But your legs tighten around his hips, and he almost wishes he was a damn vampire, able to actually pierce your skin in the moment. Drink your blood. Whatever the allure was with the origin companion.
You let out a soft gasp which has him keeping your skin between his teeth a few extra seconds, and then he’s letting go. Lifting his head and looking into your eyes, a silent exchange of is this okay?
If the glazed over look is anything to go off of, it’s more than okay.
He returns with reckless abandon, switching between his usual desperate kisses and the newer, sharper ones. He has one goal in mind: to mark you up as his, to the point in which you’ll be scolding him in the morning. It’s like a drug, to feel you writhe beneath him as he paints the picture. 
Love notes of freshly born bruises, the imprints of his teeth – a letter across your delicate skin that reads, he was here, and he loved you, more than anyone else in this Universe may ever be capable of. 
“If I had known how much biting would rile you up, I would’ve started doing it ages ago,” he mumbles into the crook of your neck, finally pausing his assault. 
He settles for softer presses of his lip, peppering the affection where he had been a bit more violent. 
Your hands that had taken to tangling into the curls at the nape of his neck have gone more relaxed, no longer tugging but instead just lingering. Pulling him closer. Touching him with softer hands than he’s ever felt deserving of. 
“Guess you’ve got a certain vampire to thank for that,” you tease, but he can hear just how breathless he’s left you. He had sworn he could feel the pulse of your facing heart beneath his lips, even if just for a moment. Even if he just imagined it. 
“Please. Astarion is not getting the credit for that,” he scoffs, lifting up onto his elbows again to just look at you. His lover, his favorite person. It’s nice to see your face when it’s not washed over with the cast of a computer screen. “That was all me. And even if it wasn’t, I won’t forget that you had a Twilight phase.” 
Your hand quickly drops between the two of you, only to smack at his chest. The thump holds no weight as you whine, “I told you that in confidence.” 
He dips down, capturing one last kiss, “It’s okay, baby. It’s good to know that you have a type.”
“I do not-”
He cuts you off with a more playful bite to your neck. Less about marking you, and more just to make a point. 
“Just,” another nip, “admit,” another graze of his teeth, “it.” 
You’re fighting a smile when he looks down at you again, impossible to hide behind your mask of annoyance. “I am not admitting that I have a thing for broody, pathetic vampires.” 
“Well, I’ve got broody and pathetic down-”
“Eddie,” your thighs still bracket him, one hand still clinging to the back of his neck. When you say his name, the game is over. “We can spend all night bickering over the fictional men I love, or you can give me a reason to forget their names. It’s up to you.” 
His eyebrows jump up his forehead, and he’s just about to give up the bit, but not before one last snide remark.
“Kind of hard to do that when I share a name with one of them, but as you wish, sweetheart.” 
Another bout of beautiful laughter from him. Another smack on the chest from you. It’s good – it’s everything Eddie has ever wanted, and it is good.
He does, of course, make you forget their names. And if you find it difficult to get out of bed the next moment, dramatically unable to make the walk to your gaming computer, well – he won’t try to hide his smug smile in between the soft rays of morning light.
eddie's taglist: @capricornrisingsstuff @thisisktrying @hideoutside @vol2eddie @corrcdedcoffin @ches-86 @alovesongtheywrote @its-not-rain @feralchaospixie @cheesypuffkins87 @thebook-hobbit @babez-a-licious @eddies-acousticguitar @aysheashea @kellsck @cosmorant @billyhvrgrove-main @micheledawn1975 @eddiesxangel @siriuslysmoking @witchwolflea @tlclick73 @magicalchocolatecheesecake @mizzfizz @nanaminswhore @mikiepeach @ali-r3n @hawkebuckley @alwaysbeenfamous @darkyuffie-blog @vintagehellfire @lilmisssiren @elvendria @loveryanax @stylexrepp @princessstolas @fangirling-4-ever @eddiesguitarskills @babez-a-licious @josephquinnsfreckles
join my taglist!
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nolita-fairytale · 10 months
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Meeting Pastry Chef Luca from The Bear For the First Time Headcanon
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a/n: inspired by @superhoeva, i thought i'd take a crack at writing a chef luca headcanon because we're all dying rn for will poulter as a sticker-sleeve tattooed chef. would anyone read this as a fic?? let me know.
edit: (7/3/23) i turned this into a fic called 'burn your life down.' feel free to read if you'd like!
you own a small restaurant in copenhagen. it's only been open for a year (this could potentially change if i write said fic). it's nothing fancy, but the food has soul. the food is an extension of yourself -- it tells the story of you.
inspired by noma, you grow some of your own produce outside of the restaurant in raised garden beds.
you begin to notice (as it's an open kitchen) and a smaller spot, that a tall, blonde brit has become one of your regulars. he comes in the same day each week at the same time. he always looks tired, like he's unwinding from a long day's worth of hard work, but he's always kind to your staff, and he has a quiet, powerful confidence to him.
week after week, he's there. he always orders one dish and one glass of wine, before paying the bill and leaving for the evening without a word.
your staff speculate about him: who is he, what must he do, that he's so handsome that he must have a partner. you don't pay much attention to the gossip, but it's hard not to notice that it's become part of his routine.
he always orders something different -- eager to try any new kind of special that you have on the menu that day.
it's not till one slower night of service that you finally meet him. you're short staffed that night and so you end up running plates out to tables -- finding it a great opportunity to connect more with your diners on a personal level. it's a very american hospitality concept, but since you have the time, you figure, why not?
he comes in at his usual time on sunday evening and you're curious to learn more about your weekly diner. you introduce yourself after walking his plate out and he's surprised that it's you who's serving him this evening.
"you're the chef?" he asks. "yes." "i can't think of the last time i saw a head chef work front of house..." he shakes his head in disbelief. "we're a little short staffed tonight." he seems impressed, raising his glass of wine to you. "cheers."
at the end of dinner service, one of your servers hands you a handwritten note that luca's left for you, inviting you to the restaurant he works at. the note reads: "thank you for all of the great meals. i'd like to return the favor, that is, if you're open to it," followed by a time, a date for tomorrow, and an address.
as soon as you realize which restaurant it is (much fancier, michelin starred, held in high regard) you only panic a little, but decide to go anyways. since both of your restaurants are closed on monday, you're even more nervous about the fact that you're meeting him at his tonight, while it's closed, considering you've barely had a conversation with him and how intimidating of a reputation the restaurant has.
he greets you at the door, right on time, and he leads you past the closed dining room, back to the kitchen where he's created a few dishes for you to try: two from his regular menu and one inspired by a dish of yours he's had.
"all of this... you did all of this for me... why?" you muster up the courage to ask. "your food is inspired and i don't think i've had something this inspired in a long time. and as chefs, this is what we do. we feed each other." and it's the beginning of, you're not quite sure what, but whatever it is, you're glad he walked into your restaurant however many weeks ago.
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kiskisur · 8 months
Note
Hello again! How are you faring? I would like to request some smut with Alhaitham/Neuvillette with a ftm! male reader who is a really famous defense attorney/prosecutor from Fontaine ( ´∀`)
Pretty boy
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warnings: NSFW, sub!ftm!reader x dom!neuvilette, reader has a pussy, praising, basically neuvilette worshipping your body because yes, breeding kink sure
note: been dying to literally write this while playing with a friend ily omg but I'm good ~ thank you for asking!! <3
edited note: I don't know how to describe a pussy so I apologize for any mistakes!
IMPORTANT <- must read.
IMPORTANT 2.
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you were a famous attorney in the whole fontaine, fighting for criminals and defending them but who knew you would be in this situation?
"ngg.. g-good boy." he purred seductively in your ear, kneading on your ass to help you relax.
you were a mess under him, too dizzy and fucked out to even think straight, you were gorgeous in his eyes.
"archons, you look absolutely stunning.. ah-" he shuddered, feeling your walls tighten around him at the praise as he laughed softly.
"does the pretty boy like being praised? receiving his treat?" he cooed, kissing your forehead as he thrusted so much deeper now.
he wanted to ravish you, seeing you dumb all over his cock turned him on so much he would snap any second now.
but remembering how you were oh so stressed from earlier after defending a horrible criminal had him focused on pleasing you
"n-neuvilette! I'm gonnA- mmf cum..! pleasepleaseplease let me cum!" you were practically crying at the tight knot forming in your stomach, your walls clenching around him.
his hand reached down to play and rub your clit, earning a whine and cry from you as you arched your back at the sudden sensation.
"that's it, good boy shh.. cum for me." he was praising and worshipping your body by now, leaving any place untouched and not kissed.
"s-so tight around me- I-I might as well just fill you up with my cum, yeah? you want me to cum inside you and fill you up with my k-kids?" he spoke such lewd words to you, making you squirm and nod eagerly before wrapping your legs around his waist and pulling him closer.
you enjoyed how deep he was, through out all your relationships not once anyone dared to even go deeper into you, causing your needs to grow every second.
he growled, his thrusts increasing and going rougher as he panted heavily and bit your neck.
your eyes rolled back at the overwhelming pleasure hitting you like waves. your vision blurring white when finally you came, whining and moaning his name.
his gaze darkened as he listened to his name slipping out of your lips, roughly thrusting into you deeper and harder now as he chased his own release, the overstimulation caused you to cry out and scratch his back like a cat.
"t-toO much! neuvilette plEa-" you were cut off by him kissing you, slipping his tongue in as he danced with yours as well, swallowing your cries and moans.
when he pulled away something warm spilled inside you, a groan filling the air as he shuddered and came inside you.
"sh- g-good boy, pretty boy nnghh.." he closed his eyes, trying to process everything as he raised his head to admire your gorgeous form, full of love bites, a slight bruise on your waist and your hair sticking to your forehead from sweating.
you were gorgeous in his eyes, you could've sworn you saw heart shapes in his pupils, laughing softly as you leaned closer and kissed his cheek.
"I have a trial tomorrow, you're dead if my walks turn wobbly like a slime." you glare at him, causing him to pout and slip out of you.
"aww, why not? It'll be cute would it not?" he teased, carrying you bridal style to the bathroom.
"NEUVILETTE!!! (NAME)!!!!" neuvilette froze when you heard a scream right outside his door, fuck, focalors is gonna kill you now you better pray to the archons at this point.
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sunnie-writes · 6 months
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cupid's chokehold.
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pairing: jax x cupid!gn!reader
tags & tropes: fluff, shameless flirting, fell first/fell harder
summary: you were absolutely confused because of two things: one, you got transported to a random dimension and became a totally different person, gaining the title of a cupid, and two, you had fallen in love at first sight with the most sarcastic purple rabbit man ever. well, at least you didn't felt like complaining on the second part.
tell me, sunnie!!: AAAAAAAAAAAAAA... anyways, hiiiii:3 i got a new fandom added to my brain, injected it into my veins and now i am addicted. so, this funky little guy didn't actually catch my attention at first but then i watched some edits and was like "HMMMMMM i mean yeah sure" and then i decided to check tumblr, stumbled on a fic of him and went "OH. OH." yk?? anyways, i hope you guys enjoy this bc i wrote it instead of sleeping and i have to wake up early tomorrow el oh el!!1!1!1!1
warnings?: kissing, suggestive(?) i mean it's just neck biting but idk........
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first of all, you don't know how the hell you are... here, nor why you've been stuck in this place for two weeks already.
it's a colorful world, saturated to the maximum amount possible. you know, the type to burn your eyes if you stare at a specific spot for too long. it also looked like some kind of fever dream, with all the toys scattered and the way different people? characters? looked like.
not like you can say much, you have heart shaped pupils and you're wearing something that looks like an ancient greece tunic. also, sandals. you have these big feathered white wings that are a pinkish hue at the tip of every single feather. you tried pulling one out to see if it was actually real, resulting in a yelp from your mouth. it kinda hurts.
and that reaction caused a chuckle to come from someone who has your eyes dedicated to just admiring them.
frankly speaking, if you went back and told your past self that by putting those weird vr headset glasses on you would be signing up to falling for a tall and lanky purple rabbit with a yellow smile, you would probably just chuckle and still do it, but with even more determination than before. eh, what can you say? you've always been attracted to the weirdest characters anyways.
but this... this was real, he was real and he was talking to other real weird animated people. ragatha rambled next to you about... honestly, you didn't even know, too busy watching from afar a certain rabbit. this was the start to possibly one of your most frustrating crushes ever.
"[name]? are you okay? you seem more distracted today?" she worriedly asked, putting her hand on your shoulder, "you shouldn't think too much about trying to find an exit if that's what you're thinking about, you might get abs-"
"huh? no, i wasn't thinking about that!" you quickly hurried to give an explanation, trying to dismiss that idea from her, but your eyes darted again to the overall wearing guy and she followed your gaze.
she slowly moved her head back at you after seeing what you were so... distracted about. a smirk broke in her face.
"oooh, little [nickname] has a cruuush?" ragatha teased you.
"wha- no- that's not-" before you could continue, your flushed cheeks got even more red as you saw him approaching. you immediately shut your mouth and just looked at the floor, trying to quickly hide your face
"sup', what are you two gossiping about today?" jax spoke in a mocking, sultry tone that had melting down a drain... not literally though.
"oh, nothing. you know, just the usual!" ragatha quickly tried to hide that topic from him, trying to distract or something. play it cool!
"uh-huh, and why is little cupid over here heating up like a preheated oven?" you almost choked on spit before looking at him with furrowed eyebrows and slightly flushed cheeks.
"none of your business, jax, don't bring your teasing and mocking over to [name]!"
"aww, why not?" jax dropped his hand on your shoulder, "say, little cupid, i heard doll face over here mentioning a crush, who do ya' have the hots for?"
your mind instantly went to answer "you" internally z meanwhile, your lips just answered in an almost quiet sound.
"i'm not telling you."
"huh, and why is that?" he leaned in close, and suddenly you felt absurdly claustrophobic.
he looks so... absurdly attractive with that smirk. you wish you could wipe it off of his face.
"because..." it doesn't take too long to come up with an excuse, you're an overthinker who is always prepared for this kind of situation, "you would mock me for it, and i don't feel like getting bullied by a purple beanpole."
"gasp, you wound me with your hateful words!" he dramatically posed, meanwhile ragatha chuckled in the background. "how can a cupid, made of pure love, be this mean?"
you just lightly punched him in the arm at that.
---
night time seemed like a blur to you in this world. sleep? never heard of that.
it's been a month already and your crush hasn't faltered. instead, it got bigger each day, but to be fair, it was impossible for it to not grow. jax decided that, for some reason, he liked teasing you a bit too much since he found out you might have a crush on someone.
playful flirting seemed to be his favorite to use on you, since you just tried your best to not show how it actually affected you. honestly, you felt like some kind of cliche teenager movie where you're about to write his name on a notebook with hearts all around it.
and that felt too cheesy, even for a cupid.
---
oh my stars, he wishes it's him.
you know, at first when you arrived at the digital circus, jax paid no mind to you. i mean, yeah, you were probably the cutest person in this digital purgatory, but he didn't think that he could fall for anyone in here, this isn't some weird sitcom episode. but it was starting to get difficult to not let him lose himself in a romantic trance when you were around.
he wonders if you used anything on him that could've possibly made him slowly fall for you, hard.
in the second week, he began noticing things about you. for example, you laughed at his jokes and sarcastic personality, got irritated for his pranks but never screamed at him, just shrugging it off like normally, you didn't even care when he stole something from your room.
it was mind breaking to just try and see what could get a reaction out of you towards him. until it was revealed that you had a crush on someone in that place.
jax isn't dumb, he already caught you looking at him from afar just to fastly change your gaze and get flustered, how your hands trembled when you were near him, heart eyes expanding when he talked to you. so, just to test if his theory was real, he decided to leave a subtle flirt for you. and that was checkmate.
he thought at first that it was weird, that maybe he could just play with you a little bit and entertain your little crush on him. but then, the spell turned against him. you flirted back once, and that made him feel awfully fuzzy minded. now, he was the one staring at you from afar sometimes.
that wasn't in his plans, falling for you even harder than you fell for him wasn't supposed to happen. yet, it did anyway.
and now the realization dawned on him that, at some point, he's going to have to either confess or simply hide that for forever, since that's the time they're gonna be stuck in the same dimension together. how fun, isn't it?
---
your feet took you outside of the tent, as everybody was now sleeping comfortably in their own rooms. well, at least you thought they were. stepping onto the grass and breathing in some fresh air, you looked up, waved at the sun and the moon, who smiled back at you contently. then you finally sat down and layed on the saturated green ground, looking up at the fake stars.
you sighed heavily, trying to distract your worried mind that screamed about wanting to get out and at the same time never wanting to leave. it was downright confusing, and left you with pent up energy that made your brain go 100/mph.
you heard footsteps behind you, looking up just to meet with a yellow smile and cartoonish eyes. you immediately gulped as his smirk grew.
"heyyy little cupid, what are you doing here so late?" he questioned you with a lower tone of voice before sitting down by your side. you immediately sat up too.
"just... thinking about some stuff." not losing any chance, you tried to start a conversation. "what about you?"
"meh, just bored and couldn't sleep." jax then looked at you in the eyes. "what could you possibly be thinking about?"
"ah, you know... just the usual!" you tried to quickly change topics, you didn't feel like traumadumping on anyone today nor did you feel like telling him that he's the reason you didn't abstract yet.
"and, does the usual involve your secret little crush?"
your breathe hitches, "why are you so curious about who i like?"
"i just am, it's interesting to see your reactions when i mention them." he leaned down, holding his head with his hand as he still stared at you. "why don't you tell me who it is? i'm starting to get the wrong idea that it's me since you refuse to speak about the mystery person to me."
you think you just felt your heart stop. your eyes go wide and you can feel the heat coursing through your body, blood rushing and flushing your cheeks. you know what? okay then, since there is no escape from this situation, might as well finish the night with a bang before you leave to sleep.
"that's... not the wrong idea at all." you confessed, watching as his eyes went wide in a millisecond.
"what." he spoke before sitting up and grabbing your shoulders. "you're not fucking with me, are ya?"
you shook your head while embarrassingly looking to the floor, feeling frustration pooling in your head.
"no, i'm not. i like you jax, i like your stupid pranks, your stupid jokes, your mischievous smile, your ey-" you were cut off by lips meeting with yours.
as your current situation settled in your mind, you got yourself comfortable and closes your eyes, lacing your arms around his neck and pulling him even closer before you two fell back again, you under him. your stomach was doing backflips, breaking down at the feeling of being reciprocated.
when you finally broke apart, your heart eyes were absurdly big, staring at him while you panted for air. he chuckled at your face, giving a big smile while himself was actually melting at finally having you in his arms. jax laid his head on between your neck and your shoulder. you petted his head, until you felt something.
he was biting your neck, leaving love bites and hickeys behind.
first of all, you didn't even knew if he could open his mouth, but apparently he could (?). you couldn't think much of it, too busy holding back an embarrassing whimper. you held his head and tried not to close your legs around his waist as he continued to bite.
he pulled back, looking at you with a smirk and raised eyebrows.
"well, look what a mess i've done, darlin'. how do ya' feel?"
you couldn't even answer, feeling absolutely overwhelmed by his hand on your waist, the knee resting between your legs and your mind slowly losing it's control. instead of an answer, you just pulled him down for another kiss.
yeah, you probably were enjoying that, but jax? ha! in his mind, he was melting down a drain, patting himself in the back for the idea of deciding to take a night walk and accidentally seeing you. he grinned into the french kiss, feeling absurdly high at the moment.
he wasn't sure how everyone would react to you finally being his, not that he cared about their opinion, but he thinks if would be funny to see their faces. he can't wait for it to happen, but now it's not time to think about that.
it's time for him to think on how to calm his rapidly beating heart that might give you the hint that he loves you way more than you love him.
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tell me, sunnie!!: AAAAA i finished writing this only the next day, sorry if it's too short btw!! i know it missed a lot and should have more things but it was rlly rushed bc i want to write more of him <\33 but yeah, thank you for reading sunshine!!
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jeannineee · 8 months
Text
Closure (Ⅱ)
Azriel x Reader
a/n: part two is here :) comment if you want to be added to the taglist in part 3. Quickly edited!!
PART ONE
PART THREE
warnings: angst, slight hints at depression, smut (18+ please)
“If you’re not going to eat your bacon…” Cassian trailed off, eyeing your half-eaten breakfast.
You slid your plate across the table. “Have at it.”
Mor swatted the back of Cassian’s head as he devoured the food you gave him, a scowl on her face. “She needs to eat, dumbass.”
Cassian spoke with his mouth full, “She was finished!”
“I was finished, Mor,” you interjected, rising from the table. “I’ll be in my study.”
“You’ve been in there a lot, lately,” Cassian said, with Mor shooting him a condescending glare in response.
“I’ve been busy,” you lied smoothly. “I’ve a lot to prepare, especially with the visit to the Hewn City happening tomorrow.”
Something like concern shone in the pair’s eyes, but they both knew better than to speak of it. Cassian refocused his attention to the plate before him as Mor nodded. “Let me know if you need anything.”
You didn’t so much as glance over you shoulder as you made your way to your study. You shut the wooden door after entering, refusing to look in the mirror to your right. You were almost certain of what your reflection would look like, anyway.
Azriel hadn’t spoken to you in almost two weeks. Not a single word, after the night you told him about wanting to end your…whatever situation you had going on with him.
Mother above, you missed him. It wasn’t the sex that you missed, as good as it was. You missed him. You missed his presence, his conversation.
Azriel wasn’t quite ignoring you, but he wasn’t going out of his way to speak to you, either. When it came to Elain, however, he was more than happy to drop everything for her.
You knew you shouldn’t be jealous. Azriel wasn’t yours, nor were you his. But each time he approached Elain, rage boiled through you, so unrelenting you often had to walk away for fear of what you’d do to her.
You could thank the mating bond for that.
Based on his behavior, you were almost certain that Azriel hadn’t felt the bond yet. Or perhaps he had, and chose to ignore it.
Or maybe he didn’t want to be your mate?
Or perhaps he’d never feel the bond, and you’d never know the answer to that question.
~~~~~~~~~~
The Hewn City hadn’t changed from your last visit.
Rhys and Feyre stood perched on the throne, overlooking the crowd. Some danced, some conversed, while others outright stared at the High Lord and Lady, and their Inner Circle—likely in fear.
As they should.
You’d joined Rhysand’s inner circle almost three hundred years ago. You were no stranger to the doings of the Court of Nightmares. Still, every visit had you itching to return home to Velaris.
You leaned against one of the columns towards the back of the throne room, unable to hide your lack of interest. Mor and Cassian were lost to the crowd, and Azriel was…you didn’t know where he was.
Sighing in boredom, you picked at the fabric of your dress—which, in truth, left little to the imagination. Such was normal in the Court of Nightmares.
As if in response to your previous thoughts, the bond in your chest roared to life as the spymaster approached you, his blue siphons gleaming, wings tucked in tightly.
“You look like you’re having fun,” Azriel said, voice dripping with sarcasm as his shadows swirled around the two of you.
You scoffed. “That’s all you have to say to me? Two weeks without so much as a ‘hello,’ and that’s the first thing you say?”
Azriel’s jaw clenched, and you bit the inside of your cheek as his annoyance flooded through the bond.
“I’ve been busy.”
“With Elain,” you snapped, too angry to rein in your jealousy. “How’s her garden coming along?”
“Why do you care about Elain?”
“Because she’s taking all of your time.”
“You aren’t entitled to any of my time,” Azriel spat, more pissed off than you’d ever seen him.
The words stung, but they were true. You took a step back, trying to ignore the tears stinging your eyes. Azriel took notice, his expression immediately softening.
“I didn’t mean that, y/n.”
You ignored him, instead leaving the throne room, heading out into the empty hall. Azriel was quick to follow, grabbing your arm, and whirling you around to face him as he said, “I’m sorry.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for,” you replied, pulling away from his grasp, and continuing down the hall. “Your…relationship with Elain is none of my business. I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“Don’t do that,” Azriel said, closely following behind.
“Do what?” You kept your gaze trained ahead as you stalked down the hall, eyes burning.
“Don’t act like it doesn’t affect you.”
“It doesn’t affect me.”
Azriel grabbed you again, pulling you from the hall, into an empty study. “I see how you look at Elain.”
Your breath stopped short in your lungs. Your surprised eddied into hurt. “Don’t be mean, Azriel.” The words sounded childish; weak as they left you. “Don’t be mean.”
“I’m not trying to be mean—“
“Then stop mentioning Elain. I know how you feel about her, and you obviously know how I feel about her. I don’t need you to rub salt in the wound.”
Azriel sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You said there’d be no strings attached.”
“You created that rule.”
“And you agreed.”
“What do you want, Azriel?” You were frustrated. Hurt. But most of all, you were tired.
Azriel blinked—the most surprise he’d ever show. “I want to know what you have against Elain. Why do you dislike her so much?”
“I don’t dislike her.”
“You’re lying.”
“Why does it matter?”
“Because you’re my friend,” Azriel answered, taking a step toward you.
There was that word again. That word that carved your heart out each time he said it.
Friend.
“Why do you dislike her?” Azriel pressed again, close enough now that you had to tilt your head back to meet his eyes.
“Because you’re in love with her!”
Azriel froze.
Your shoulders dropped, the tears you’d so desperately tried to stave away now streaming down your face. “Y-You’re in love with her. And I can’t—I can’t stand it.”
Azriel only stared. And stared. You’d never seen the Shadowsinger in such a state—in shock.
“Say something,” you breathed, wiping at the tears on your cheeks. “Please.”
Please. Such a pitiful word. Weak. Childish.
Azriel opened his mouth, as if to respond. Instead, he rushed forward, pressing his lips to yours. He brought one hand to the nape of your neck, the other to the small of your back, deepening the kiss.
You melted into his touch on instinct, cursing yourself for the small whimpers that escaped you as his tongue explored your mouth.
Azriel backed you into the wall, attaching his lips to your jaw, your neck. Your hands trailed down his chest, his stomach, before stopping at the waist of his leathers, working to undo the buckles.
It took little time for you to free his length from the confines of his leathers. He groaned into your mouth as you stroked him, the sound heightening your arousal.
Azriel lifted you against the wall, and you wrapped your legs around him. His eyes met yours, and as he slid into you, you decided you could die like this. You could learn to accept having some of him. Something was better than nothing.
You needed him. Needed him like air, or water.
Perhaps you should feel shame, or regret, for being so content with having only pieces of him, while Elain gets everything he has to offer.
But each thrust of his hips silenced any protest that might have come to the surface. Each murmured praise, each caress of his lips on your skin felt like a prayer that only he could answer.
And as he brought you over the edge, his name was the only word you could manage. His touch was the only thing you cared about—anchoring you to the world; a lifeline.
Your name sounded sweet as honey on his lips as Azriel found release within you. He remained connected to you as the two of you regulated your breathing, his lips still sloppily, tiredly claiming your own.
Azriel slowly eased out of you, helping you to your feet. He reverently fixed your dress, your hair, his face so soft, touch so gentle you almost wanted to cry.
Some small, insecure part of you couldn’t help but wonder if he treated Elain like this. Had he taken her to bed yet? Would he?
The thought of Elain and Azriel touching one another…your stomach churned.
“Are you alright?” Azriel asked.
“Yes.”
A pretty lie. You shouldn’t have done this.
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.”
Azriel studied you a moment longer, before relenting. “We should probably go back separately…”
As if you weren’t already seen leaving together.
You swallowed the lump in your throat. “Sure. Go ahead. I’ll be a few minutes.”
Azriel gave you a final once-over. He looked inclined to speak, but decided against it as he left you alone.
The bond writhed within you. It called to Azriel, urging you to go to him, to say anything, do anything.
But you stood, frozen. Unmoving.
~~~~~~~~~
You were unsure of how much time had passed before you finally made your way back to the throne room. You tried your best to shove away your encounter with Azriel—to pretend it didn’t happen.
It was near impossible, with his hazel eyes being glued to you all night. Even more so, as he glared at any male who dared to walk your way.
You told him you wanted to end things, to stop the casual sex. Yet here you were, only weeks later, spreading your legs for him again.
What the hell were you getting yourself into?
~~~~~~~~~~
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