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#((its just a small detail but i think it's so neat...
bumbleblurr · 1 year
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gives shockwave sympathetic traits but also won't let him escape the consequences of his actions
#i do see ppl get upset abt like getting upset abt making the male cons sympathetic which like. im guilty of that a bit yeah#which is not particularly great when ba is often just thrown under the bus for being So Mean to poor little optimus cry cry so sad#he obviously had No part in how she ended up in her current position#& she has no right to be upset about it due to how severe the trauma of it was and how it changed her life#(sarcasm. this is sarcasm)#like yeah there is some irrationality in her anger when u consider some details but like#girl i think she should be mad regardless. thats my hot take#anyway. yeah when ppl shit on ba but then they turn around and treat other Far Less ''redeemable'' characters better it is a bad look#but i prommy i am not doing thay i swear 🥺#i just think shockwave is neat and i want to shake him around in a jar i trap him in#like yes. i like to interpret him not as a complete heartless villain#w/ sympathetic traits that are based on small details i focus too much on#but also i never am like ''so thats why its ok for shockwave to harm & traumatize ppl#bc the cons are the good guys so all the fucked up shit they do in canon & fanon is justified''#which. i see often :|#but have u considered (twirls my hair) what if Shockwave is not a 100% good person even if i made him sympathetic heehee hoohoo#bc maybe cubing ppl is a bad thing actually#i think hes more interesting to me if hes a sad loser that ended up doing horrible things that he does have to face consequences for#if he had a redemption arc i think he would have his work cut out him#but definitely i think he has more of a chance than megs would#esp since part of what i think makes shockwave sympathetic is how megs is 100% willing to let him die if it benefited him#even though that dude dedicates himself so much to him & is considered one of his most loyal followers#and he gets rewarded by being shoved into an incinerator to power a escape ship#if he managed to survive that i think he'd just have a rlly intense existential crisis about the whole thing#which might be his opening to redeem himself if he doesnt become Worse during all that despair#anyway i think the point of this tag dump was#im not like other tf:a shockwave enjoyers. i want to see that british moose meet his doom#bc it would be awful for him but oh so so fun for me#and then maybe he can be ok in the end or if not. exploded into pieces#🐝 could you repeat the last part? 🟦
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soapskneebrace · 7 months
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a wake-up call
Pairing: John Price x f!Reader Rating: Mature Word Count: 3.5k Warnings: References to masturbation. References to sexual fantasy. More than likely far too many references to eye contact. Author’s Notes: I'm slowly recovering. This story will continue. Please enjoy. MASTERLIST Now on Ao3!
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Three knocks on your front door wake you up.
The sound feels at first like the thump of your own throbbing brain against the inside of your skull. Awareness comes back to you slowly, in gradiated shades of stiff joints and greasy skin. You shift, and find you’re still on your couch, still in your clothes from last night. Your eyes are filmy, sticky with dehydration—you blink several times to clear them, to little effect.
The knocking, a three-beat staccato, comes again.
“One second,” you croak irritably, cupping your forehead with your hand. Your skull might come apart, you think, if you move too much.
Your entire body feels like it is suspended from loose, tangled marionette strings as you struggle to sit up on the couch, and you wobble to that effect as you stand. Somehow, your flat has tilted at thirty degree angle, likely sometime in your sleep. You make it to the door at an oblique, having to lean on the jamb as you open it, and to add insult to injury John is standing on your doorstep like a clean, shining beacon of sobriety.
He’s in a dark shirt and jeans. His hair is casually neat, as if he’d styled it with his fingers. He looks fresh-faced, as if he’s been awake for hours already.
“That’s not fair,” you groan. 
His brows draw together over cool blue eyes. “Jesus, love,” he says, looking you up and down.
You think you should say something back. But your head is too full of ache and interrupted sleep—and the bright shock of his presence—to produce anything intelligent.
“John,” is all you say, and you sound absolutely pathetic.
“Was gonna accuse you of standing me up,” he says ruefully, “but I see that’s not the case.”
“No,” you say dumbly. The fact that he’s come to seek you out gets tangled up in the strings. “Um.”
It is so far out of the ordinary as to be dreamlike. John’s knocking belongs on the other side of your wall, not your door. His boots belong on his own doorstep, making room for your house slippers at the time of your choosing, not his.
“Am I still drunk?” you wonder aloud.
John gives that little huff-laugh of his. “I doubt it.”
You rub your face. “Have I overslept?”
“Just a bit,” he replies. “I’ll admit, when I didn’t hear you move around this morning, I got worried.”
“I fell asleep on the couch,” you confess. You put a hand to your forehead as your brain throbs again. “Oh, I shouldn’t have drank that much.”
“Love,” says John, gentle and soft, “why don’t you let me in, and I’ll make you some breakfast?”
You blink, and you’re sure now that you’re still drunk. 
John. In your flat. Cooking?
“I’m not fancy in the kitchen, but I manage alright,” he suggests further. His gaze is warm on yours, brows lifted encouragingly.
“…Sure,” you say, and shuffle to the side to let him in. If this morning is determined to be strange, you might as well not get in its way.
He gives you a small smile and crosses the threshold. 
Your flat shifts again; as he enters your living room, it seems to shrink, or maybe it’s just that John fills your home in a way no one ever has. His body, his presence, casts new light on the interior that throws its existence into unfamiliar repose. Details—the softness of your furniture, the cozy clutter of books and knickknacks spread across every available flat surface—offer unmeasured insight into who you are, more than you might ever have intended to reveal to John.
It’s only when he’s halfway to your kitchen that you realize one detail—the bright fucking pink of your vibrator, still on your coffee table—is glowing like a neon sign.
And your previous night’s activities come flooding back. 
Your body, draped over his. The scrape of his beard on your hand, your face. 
The furious grind of your mons against that toy as you pictured him taking you, drenched in hot shower water and pressed bare to the tile wall.
You are fully, painfully awake now. You stare, frozen in shocked terror, waiting for him to catch sight of it, but his head does not turn in its direction. He passes by it with no indication that he even noticed.
You dart over and snatch it behind his back, shoving it deep into your dress pocket, and grab up the empty water glass for an excuse. Then you have to put a hand to your head as your vision swims from the sudden movement.
“Have eggs?” John asks over his shoulder. He enters your kitchen. “I can make ‘em any way you like. Fried, over easy, sunny side…”
“Um,” you say, squeezing your eyes shut, “scrambled.”
You follow after him, and lean against the wall to watch as he opens your fridge. His hand engulfs more of its handle than yours ever has; the musculature of his powerful body visibly shifts beneath his clothes as he has to bend down to root around the shelves.
He is broad in your kitchen. As broad as he’d been between your legs, in memory and in fantasy.
You don’t realize you’re staring until he straightens and puts the eggs, butter, and milk on the counter. Your breath hangs suspended in the shallows of your lungs when he catches your gaze.
His brows crease again. “You look like you’re about to fall over.” 
“Um,” you say, again, because it’s the only sound your brain will reliably supply.
To your horror, he comes to you, and—oh, god—takes your face in both hands.
“You’re warm,” he says. “Do you feel sick, love?”
Your brain supplies nothing now. It is so unfair, how good he looks the morning after drinking nearly half a bottle of scotch. His features are velvet-soft, so easy and wonderful to look at that you stop feeling your headache entirely.
“I really think I might still be drunk,” you admit, sounding pathetic.
His thumbs rub into your temples as he smiles at you. “Hell of a hangover, then.”
The pressure of his fingers is an incredible relief, and you close your eyes as you give into it. You feel, if your knees suddenly gave out, that he would easily be able to hold you up like this, as if you weighed nothing. His hands are a little cool from rooting around in your fridge, and the rest of him is warm, standing close enough that his body heat reaches out to you with the freshness of a recent shower. You want to fall into that warmth, bury your face in his chest…
Your eyes fly open. You hear your own voice again—I wanted to touch you, and I wanted you to hold me. You feel, again, the echo of his body between your thighs. Your heart starts beating wildly in your chest as embarrassment, hot and acidic, pumps through you.
“I think I need to sit down,” you whisper.
He strokes your temples, and surveys your face with a gentle gaze. “Sure, love. Go ahead.”
And then he releases you, and you try to remember how to walk as you return to your living room. There is no relief to be found as you sit down on your couch, which is indented by the dissatisfied night.
“How’d you sleep?” John asks from the counter. You hear him crack a few eggs into a bowl. This is the first time cooking has happened in your kitchen with you outside of it, and the cognitive dissonance of it does not help to steady you.
“Like the dead,” you say, rubbing your sore neck. Then, you decide to lie to him. “I—I think I passed out before the door even closed last night.”
John looks over his shoulder at you, and he smiles. The vibrator sits cold in your pocket. Are you imagining that glimmer in his eyes? “Wouldn’t be surprised. You were pretty out of it.”
“I didn’t end up drinking the whole bottle, did I?”
A chuckle. “Not quite.”
“Didn’t you drink as much as me?” You try to recall, and think you can remember him matching you glass for glass. “Why aren’t you out of commission?”
“The army never cares if you’re hungover, I’ve found,” says John. “Guess I learned to stop caring too.”
You hear the sizzle of whisked eggs spreading over a hot pan, and for a while there’s only the sound of John moving a spatula around.
You watch him in your kitchen, his back to you as he stands at the stove. His long-sleeved shirt clings to the breadth of his shoulders, planes of shifting muscle underneath casting shadows through the soft cotton. The collar hangs a little low down his neck, leaving enough room for the dark hair at his nape to curl as it dries.
It makes something in your stomach twist, twinning your nervous hunger with unstable desire. It’s something that wants to walk back into the kitchen and wrap your arms around his trim waist, press your cheek between his shoulder blades.
“Want anything else?” John asks. “Could make some toast.”
“Eggs are fine!” you say too quickly.
The spatula scrapes softly against the pan again. As he turns to open your fridge, you swear you see him grinning. 
Heat blooms across your face. SAS. Of course he could feel you looking at him.
It does not take him very long to finish cooking. Space bends once again as he leaves your kitchen, as he comes to you with a plate balanced on one hand and a glass of orange juice in the other. You feel smaller than you ever have as he approaches, and sets the meal in front of you on the coffee table. 
“Hope it tastes alright,” he says, sitting down beside you. He sinks into your couch cushions, far more dense than you are, and looks quite comfortable doing so. “I made ‘em how I like ‘em, but no guarantee you’ll feel the same.”
You look from him to the eggs, which are golden yellow and steaming pleasantly. “You didn’t make yourself anything?”
There is a softness in his eyes when you look back to him. You’ve seen it before—it’s there every time you hand him a new book. “Don’t worry ‘bout me. Just eat.”
You can’t protest when he’s looking at you like that, so you obey, suddenly ravenous once a forkful is between your teeth. The eggs are whipped to a wonderfully soft fluff, salted perfectly, and you think you can taste the barest hint of butter. You can’t help shutting your eyes to savor the taste.
“Good?” John asks. “I’ll admit, I’m not much of a cook, but I think I’m all right at eggs.”
Usually you like to add things when you make the same dish—potato chips, broken up into little crumbs, or a dollop of sour cream and salsa. For once though, right now you’d be disappointed by all that. 
They wouldn’t be the eggs John made for you.
The thought makes your stomach twist again. “Delicious,” you say. “Thank you.”
He watches you eat, and you try not to feel self-conscious. He seems almost—satisfied by this, by feeding you, more than you would expect him to be. But then, this has always been the case with John. You have never understood why the smallest of things you do have such an impact on him, but they do nonetheless.
“John,” you say. “About last night…I wanted to apologize.”
Dark brows crease as you set the empty plate down. “What for?”
“I got so drunk,” you say. You won’t look at him, face heating, strangling your own fingers in your lap. “You—you had to carry me home, and I’m so embarrassed by the things I said, I was so inconsiderate.”
“That’s not—”
“You must have felt so uncomfortable,” you continue, “you were so nice to take me out, and there I was acting like a lush with no self-control—”
“Darling, it’s fine—”
“And then after, the way I—I pawed at you—”
He says your name—fully and clearly, firmly—and it catches you so off guard that your words halt in your throat. You finally meet his gaze.
John’s eyes have always been windows. Portals into the truth of him, freely offered, without hesitance or fear. You think John knows himself in ways few men do—knows every corner, every crack and crevice, and refuses to hide any of it from himself or anyone else. As if he is not afraid of being seen for what and who he is; as if he has seen it all already, and cannot be daunted by it.
What you see now is undisguised. Untempered. John Price wants you. And he has no fear that you can see it.
“Did you mean any of it?” he asks, voice low and deep in his chest.
The question catches you off guard, throwing you with its directness. The only thing keeping you upright is his gaze, the steady certainty of its own intention. Strong even under the weight of suspense. 
You swallow, and take a shaky breath. “John,” you say, “I was so drunk...”
His eyes flash. John moves, leans forward, and you are speared, held in place much the same way you had been at dinner, by his presence alone. “I know. But did you mean it?”
The breath trapped in your lungs calcifies, solidifies into hard, pressing nodules of catalyzed fear and desire that trap the seeds of any response in your chest. You tear your gaze away from him, finally, stare at the empty plate on your table. He does not touch you, but you feel the phantom weight of his hand on your knee. The warmth of his body against yours.
“We hardly know each other,” you whisper shakily. It is a flimsy scrap of an excuse, even to you. “We—we barely know each other at all.”
“Love,” John says, low and soft. You turn to look at him again. His lips part—
Your phone rings.
You exhale hard, strings suddenly cut. John closes his eyes, breathes out, and then leans back again.
You retrieve your phone from where you’d flung your purse last night, off the couch and to the opposite wall where it lays on the floor. When you see the caller ID, you want to throw the phone back across the room, but you take a deep breath and answer anyway.
“Ben,” you sigh, and to your furious embarrassment it comes out as a croak.
“Hey, sweets, Liv is—wait. You sound awful,” comes your coworker—and ex-boyfriend’s—voice through the earpiece.
“Rough night,” you say, closing your eyes against sweets. You then look at John. His gaze is fixed on you.
“Oh, sorry,” Ben says. “Anything I can do?”
He could have not called. “Tell me about Liv,” you prompt him.
“Right! She’s out. Flu.”
“Oh.” You blink, and watch John retrieve your plate and glass. He takes them to the kitchen and runs the faucet low, so the sound won’t interfere with your call. 
You’re not sure how you know that that’s his intention, but you do. 
“That’s awful.”
“And inconvenient. We need another instructor for the trip.”
Can John hear what Ben is saying? He looks up from the sink, lifts one brow when you meet his eyes. There’s humor there, a kind of rueful empathy for dealing with the nonsense of coworkers.
You want to hang up. You want to answer his question right then and there. 
“When?” you ask.
“Two hours. I know! I know it’s short notice,” he says, animatedly contrite. “Sorry. But we’d love to have you, it’ll be fun! I can even pick you up, if you like.”
“No, that’s alright,” you sigh. “But okay, I’ll start packing. Just send me the details, yeah?”
“Sure, sweets,” Ben replies, “can’t wait to see you! I’ve missed hanging out, you know? Even after…everything.”
The gravitational force of John’s presence—the shift and bend of your flat around him—snaps in half. Reality asserts itself like a recurring headache. 
Suddenly you’re in your flat, phone to your ear, unshowered from last night and coated in a layer of grease. The vibrator is a useless weight in your pocket. You are a useless girl hungover in day-old clothes.
“I’ll see you soon,” you say noncommittally, and hang up.
John gazes at you expectantly from over the sink.
“Work trip,” you say, and you wonder if you sound as dazed as you feel. “Last minute, I…I need to get ready.”
John blinks, and then grins, amused. Crow’s feet gather in the corners of his eyes. “You know, I’m usually the one in that situation.”
Suddenly he is too much to look at. You tear your gaze away, look at your phone in your hands. You feel very exposed, ashamed somehow. “I’m sorry,” you say.
You hear the easy drum of John’s boots out of your kitchen, across the room, and then he’s in front of you. His hands are in his pockets, arms slung loose at his sides. “What for?”
“For…”
He steps closer to you. Your heart leaps in your chest, and you have to look up at him, unable to resist the pull he has on you.
The line of his mouth is gentle, and you stare too long at the divot of his Cupid’s bow. Beneath the soft lines of his brows, his gaze is soft, fond. More so than you deserve.
“I don’t really know.”
The long muscle in his neck shifts as he tilts his head. You swallow, unconsciously mirroring the gesture.
“John…I…”
His gaze drops—rests on your lips, and returns to yours.
“Love,” he murmurs, low and humming. “Did you mean it?”
His voice slides across you like physical touch, and every hair feels like it’s standing on end.
Yes. Yes, of course you meant it, every word. It feels so obvious to you, so blatant, and the shame of it holds you by the throat. You are not important enough to inflict upon John Price. You are trembling, meek, afraid of stepping outside your own door sometimes. What is that in comparison to him? Him, who comes home shaking off the dust of places you’ve only ever heard of. Him, who you’ve learned can swear in six different languages. Him, who has stuffed more life than you thought possible into only a handful more years of living than yours.
Of course you want him. Moths are always drawn toward flame. How could you not?
“John,” you say in your smallest voice. You hate the way it sounds—like an admission of guilt. “What if I did?”
He doesn’t move, but you see the shift in him anyway. A coiling, almost,  energy banking as he studies you, searches your face. His hands remain in his pockets. He watches you for a long moment, and you can’t possibly imagine what he might like in what he sees.
“Ball’s in your court, then,” he finally says, soft and low in his chest. “Whatever you want from me, love, you can have.”
You want too much. You can’t give enough back.
“I don’t want to ruin this,” you say on a shallow breath. “Our—us. What we already have.”
He steps closer to you. Close enough that his shirt brushes the front of your dress. Close enough that his clean, soft warmth near-envelops you, the exact same way you’d been wishing for earlier. He does not reach out, like he did when he thought you were sick. You cannot decide if this disappoints you or not. You feel shaky without his hands on you, feverish and embarrassed, and you fear desperately that he can see that as he holds your gaze, that you are completely open to him in a way that leaves no space for the truth to hide. 
“You won’t,” he says, steady and solid.  
You take a trembling breath, swallow to clear your throat. “I…”
He withdraws one hand from his pocket, slowly, and brings it upward. Feather-light, he curls his index finger under your chin, caressing his thumb so terribly gently beneath your bottom lip. You cannot help flinching, anticipatory want recoiling from the very thing it was aching for in surprise, and for a split second you are newly scared that he’ll take his touch away.
But he doesn’t. The windows of John’s eyes stay open, and there is nothing but intent behind them. You realize he knows. He knows that you’re reluctant, that you’re unsure, that you are pulled to him like a falling star to earth and also terrified of burning up in the process. 
He understands.
“I’m a patient man, love,” he purrs, and you realize too that he is excited by this, by you. “I can wait. As long as you need.”
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PSA: For my own sanity this will be the last chapter I utilize the taglist. If you would like to know when this story is updated you may follow me, turn on my post notifications, or subscribe to the series on ao3. Thank you.
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sanakimohara · 2 months
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This is my second ever ask in my 10 years of having Tumblr so please let me know if I’m saying this wrong or if this is rude 😅 but please could you do a felix or chan incredibly insanely darkly jealous a lot of breeding kink and rutting and c8ck dumb reader 😮‍💨😅😅 pretty please
“UNDER THE INFLUENCE” L. F.
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Awe well I am honored to be your second ask here on tumble. I think I'll take Felix on this one...give him a bit more love in my post stream..
{ MDNI }
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Today was not supposed to end like this. You had no intention of being in a room alone with him -especially while you both were ‘working’- but here you are. Trembling and writhing as Felix had his fill of you.
It was a miracle that your makeup wasn’t smudged; thankfully, your hair wasn’t too messed up from its original wet and wavy look. No matter how many times Felix ran his fingers through it or if you pressed your head against the thin walls as shrouds of ecstasy hit you, it stayed modestly neat.
One less giveaway of what the two of you were getting up to in his dressing room.
“Felix…F-Felix th-that’s enough….Ahm!” You groan as quietly as possible, trying hard to not let anyone outside the room hear how amazing it feels to have your cunt devoured like there was no tomorrow. The blonde completely ignored your demand, swirling his tongue in quicker circles around your clit before delving into your dripping entrance.
He’d been at it for the past ten minutes at least, never letting you pull your hips away from his oddly rough grip, keeping your legs wide open as you sat on the -previously organized- makeup vanity. You felt terrible about doing such inappropriate things with a man you swore you’d never met all day.
All fucking day.
You’d refused to admit that Felix was your significant other to make the photo shoot between you and a male model less awkward. A small sacrifice you were both used to driving to keep your relationship concealed and stable, but for one reason or another, Felix felt a simmering rage when he heard you deny your ties to them.
He hated it so much that he’d been less approachable and friendly for the better part of the day.
The staff noticed Felix’s change, whispering about how on edge he was on and off camera-cordial to everyone like always- but noticeably annoyed. You’d seen it too, very concerned he wasn’t feeling well and convinced just checking on him during the staff hour-long lunch break wouldn’t do any harm to anyone.
Everyone except you.
Felix was not above taking his growing frustrations out on you. The instant you shut his dressing room door, he’d covered you, hands preemptively inching the bodice of your silk skirt to touch your bare skin underneath as he placed one fiery kiss on your lips after another. “Stop letting him touch what’s mine, angel,” he whispers into your parted lips, drinking in the immediate whimpers you let out in return.
“You can’t be serious, Lix. More than half of the shoot requires us to “
He rolled his eyes, smirking in disbelief at your attempt to reason with him, “Does it look like I fucking care. Either keep his hands off you, or I’ll ensure it myself.” The rare sight of anger adorned Felix’s gentle features, voice a rumbling whisper, and the combination propelled you into subspace within seconds. He was never this openly possessive. He’d pout or sulk if you didn’t give him attention occasionally, but this…
This was new.
It made you nervous under his gaze, rendering you speechless as he hugged you close, lips reconnecting to your own in another sequence of tender kisses as he walked you backward into the vanity. Your exposed back hit the mirror with a soft ‘thud’ and you flinched away from it. Felix brought you close to him, letting his warmth resolve your shivering and trailing his hands over the intricate details of your artistic bralette.
You pulled away, smiling proudly as Felix took a moment to admire your decorated breasts, eyes darkening with desire as you leaned back with a knowing smile on your face. “Like what you see, Liz?” You tease him, giggling softly as you turn your head to look at him through the reflection. He nods slowly, tongue poking one of his cheeks as he snakes an arm around your waist, closing the tiny gap between you two and effectively spreading your legs to frame his waist.
“You know I do, angel. Always will…” he mutters adoringly, placing a trail of heated kisses along your neck, shoulder, and finally, the curve of your breasts. He groaned in displeasure as he realized the material was intricately clasped, making it a hassle to remove and one less place on your body for him to play with.
Felix solves the dilemma quickly, licking a long stripe over each one before nipping at your skin until barely visible bruises are raised on your skin. Your face burned hot, lust seeping to panic as he marked what he knew to be his, and though it felt amazing, you knew he was inching you both towards exposure.
“Lix, please don’t…they’ll see those…mm,” you bit back a moan as he made another affliction, purposefully making it noticeable. You flinched against him, hands flying to claw into his shoulders, “That’s enough…” you moaned into his ear. The demand lost its edge as it slipped off your tongue, concern becoming a blur as Felix tangled a hand in your hair, pulling it so you had no choice but to let him stain your skin with as many love bites as he pleased.
Your brows knitted together as each one became more intense than the last, the arm around your waist holding you flush against him, adding to the mind-numbing pleasure he was inducing.
You tried one last time to reason with him, stuck in thralls of heat and logical thinking, “Felix…th-“
He cut you off immediately, devoid of any sympathy for your plight, and his authoritative tone made that abundantly clear.
“I don’t care,” he retorts, and you whine in response, “..But I do.”
Felix laughed dryly, inwardly amused by your signature pout but unsympathetic with your reasoning. “You shouldn’t,” he replies softly, bringing his hands to caress your face. You stared up at him lovingly, leering into his touch as he pecked your lips, the subtle hums of approval thundering in his chest, building the pool of heat in your core.
“I know, Lix….” You murmur into the kiss, feeling his hands drop to your thighs, giving them light-handed squeezes. You subconsciously roll your hips to get his touch closer to your dripping cunt. He smiles against your lips, chuckling at your eagerness and immediately giving in to you.
“Desperate little angel, aren’t we?” He teased you, discreetly slipping the many rings off his fingers as you nodded your head and let out a breathless “mhm” in response. Felix shifted your silky skirt to the side, draping the fabric off of your legs as he cupped your mound with one hand. He bit his plush bottom lip as your hips bucked into his hold. A sheer thong was the only thing keeping your soaked folds away from him, and he remedied the obstacle by pulling it to the side.
“Fuck…” you hiss as the cool air hits your exposed cunt, slick going ice cold as Felix prodded to skilled fingers past your entrance. “It’s a miracle you don’t have cum running down your leg, love. It must be so hard walking around this wet for me, yeah?” His voice carried so much weight, doubling down on your own pleasure as he fingered you at the slowest pace possible.
You were at a loss for words, thoughts, or any coherent reaction as he curled his fingers forward to hit your sweet spot. Felix wanted a verbal answer, not just the satisfying gratification your moans brought him, “Need to hear you, angel..or I’ll stop.” You shake your head in displeasure, blushing heavily as you rush a reply, words slurring into excited whimpers.
“Y-yes…s-Ahm….fuck Lix…y-yes you’re right….”
“Good girl…” he whispers, pumping his fingers faster and pressing your clit with the pad of his thumb. You yelp quietly, whining curses as a familiar tightening ramped up in your stomach, and you clenched around his fingers as a result.
Felix groaned vicariously, smirking wildly before withdrawing his hand. “N-no! Lix, please!” You nearly shout in agony at the loss of fullness, ready to cry as he drops to his knees, faking a frown as he comes face to face with your glittering core. “You’re being awfully loud for someone who doesn’t want to get caught, love.” His warm breath fans the slick entrance as he speaks, putting you in a daze that intensifies when he flicks his tongue against you.
“Don’t care anymore…jus’ wanna cum,” you mewl as he focuses on the task at hand, finding the rhythm to taste you with his tongue perfectly and urging you to cum in his mouth with every deliberate action.
His blonde hair tickled your thighs, low moans sending vibrations through you in waves and heightening the toll your climax took on you.
Felix refused to stop until your cunt was all he’d be able to savor for the rest of the day. You nearly fell forward on him in a state of elated exhaustion as he stood back up and kissed you deeply. Your eyes slid shut as the creaminess of your release and his spit seeped down your throat, a wanton moan spilling from you both as his tongue danced with yours, and your hands traveled up to grip his hair.
“Careful…” he grunts, the sound giving way to an altered whine. You pull the blonde strands harder, lips connecting to his jawline and making your own mark on his tan skin. He reaches for his belt, glad his outfit wasn’t nearly as complicated as your own, and a sigh of relief comes out as a sharp exhale through his nose the moment his cock springs free.
You smile against his skin, eyes trailing down to get a view of it, “You’re such a hypocrite,” you taunt him. Amused to see how affected Felix was by the mere thought of another man laying his hands on you.
He groans, muttering a semblance of disagreeable words before shoving you back with gentle force. The conjoined feeling of the cold mirror hitting your heated skin and the instantaneous contact of his throbbing shaft gliding up and down your glittery folds has your back arching as ripples of pleasure course through you.
Felix drops his head to the crook of your neck, a few strands of his hair ghosting your skin as he places featherlight kisses. “Lix..” you mumble lowly, unable to think straight as he breathes in your scent, his hands grazing down your spine as he does.
“Promise me he won’t touch you again,” he whispers in your ear, his hips pausing, the tip of his cock inching into you ever so slightly. You whined loudly, head lulling back as your brows furrowed in frustration, one hand slipping from his tousled hair to clasp around his throat. Every breath he took raised his Adam’s apple, your thumb gingerly baring down the muscle as you shook your head slowly.
“I can’t..please don’t make me,” you plead for a compromise, but Felix disregards the refusal, pushing into your cunt inch by inch, torturing the both of you with the long-awaited security your fluttering walls would impose on him. “Yes, yes you can…you will. Promise me, sweetheart. Open your pretty mouth and swear to me that you’re all mine..” Felix shifted between pleading and demanding, eyes flickering from your expression of pure ecstasy as he sunk all the way into you to the space where you two connected.
A train of thought no longer existed for you as he pulled out slowly, slamming back so harshly that the vanity quivered from the subtle force. Your mouth fell open, eyes rolling in earnest bewilderment the rougher Felix got. “Fucking answer me…,” he groans, burying his cock in you, and refusing to move until you stuttered out a response.
Work be dammed. Telling some random guy to keep his hands to himself for the next few hours paled in comparison to your need to cum….and was honestly a task you’d do whether Felix was coercing it out of you or not.
So, as much as you cared for professionalism…it’d have to take a backseat to whatever emotion he was dragging you into now.
“I. I promise it won’t happen again…I promise, Lix…” You didn’t care how pathetic you sounded, past the point of modesty and clinging to Felix for dear life as he picked up the pace of his thrusts. Your chest pressed into his, the intricate details on your bra chilling his burning skin and prompting him to hold you there with an arm snaking around your waist.
He fisted the sheer material of your skirt, almost ripping through it as he tugged it higher, nails digging into your skin possessively, and you winced in pain as he brought his lips to your ear again. “Hm, does it hurt, angel?” He asks, feigning concern, and the contrast of the sweet gesture amid brutality made your head spin endlessly. “Y-yes,” you huffed as a moan built in your throat, quickly slipping out as he shifted one of your legs up and around his lean waist. The adjusted angle drew a surprised cry from you, cunt gripping every ride and vein of his cock as he took advantage of the position. He was bruising your sweet spot with an intensity and speed you’d never experienced before.
Felix was generally endearingly romantic and rarely this aggressive with you. Seeing, well, witnessing this side of his character was an edge for you on its own.
You were surprised that you managed to hold out this long without cumming and even more taken aback by the steady stream of arousal pooling on the vanity beneath you. Felix noticed it too, cock twitching inside you as pride flooded his system, “You’re making such a mess, pretty girl… does it feel that good?” He grinned triumphantly when you nodded without hesitation, hips rolling to meet his thrusts at an even pace for as long as possible.
“Gorgeous, so…fucking gorgeous..” he praises your every reaction, running a hand down the expanse of your torso, stopping to press down where you could feel his cock the most. You blushed as the applied pressure emphasized exactly where Felix was inside you.
The coil in your core teetered on the verge of snapping, your hands disappearing underneath the hem of his designer dress shirt, and your manicured nails scratched into his toned torso. The simple action caused Felix to buck his hips and wrap his free hand in your hair as he brought you into an open-mouthed kiss. It was sloppy, void of any decency, as the both of you chased your high at the expense of the other.
You clawed at his skin, moaning louder as the knot in your stomach begged to loosen for the third time in a row. He stared into your dreamy gaze, reading the warning in them as he held your head close to his.
Felix wanted nothing more than to etch this very moment into your mind for the rest of the day -your life. The thought of you walking around, filled to the brim with his cum as you posed for one picture after the next plagued his conscious, and undid the last link of reason for him.
“Fuck this,” he snapped, brows furrowing with determination as he pulled out of you, and slid you off the vanity to bend you forward on it instead. Thankfully, you caught yourself in time, too dazed to stop him from kicking your legs apart, and reentering you from behind. “Felix…” you groan exasperatedly, shuddering as his cock stretched your cunt with ease, causing a thin drip arousal to slide down your inner thighs.
The blonde leaned over you, a hand resting on the curve of your back as he returned to his pace from earlier. Sweat starts to build on his tan skin, a concentrated expression adorning his angelic features as he pounded into you.
Blank.
Your mind was entirely blank the longer he bullied his cock against your sensitive womb and the tension mounting in your body multiples exponentially as he lowered himself to speak in your ear lowly.
“This is where you belong, angel. Just like this, with me, an no one else understand?”
You nodded weakly, fighting back tears as the urge to cum from the sound of his voice tempted you.
It’d only take one more possessive word from him -paired with that salacious smile on his face- to unravel you. Felix was at his end, too, eyes sliding close as the precision of his thirst became a tenuous blur.
“You think he’d use you this well, love?” He slurs the question, unintentionally pulling your hair as he snaps his hips harder. “No…”you sigh deliriously, reaching a hand to run through his hair and bring him in for a heated kiss, while the other latched against the mirror to hold you steady under his weight as the knot in your core spiraled loose.
“That’s it….angel, fuck, you feel so good…” Felix doesn’t even try to be discreet, zoned in on the way your cunt gushes on his cock, greedily taking the hot ropes of cum he releases. Oxygen alludes to you for a few seconds, an overbearing heat rushing through you and your body quivering in the aftershock.
You looked divine. Unreal even. That pleased smile on your lips as you giggled shamelessly only added to the glow you emitted in your shared highs.
“He won’t touch me again, Lix..” you panted softly, smiling more expansive as you clung to him tiredly and laid your head on his shoulder.
He understood then. Why he’d felt so stricken with jealousy over you the whole day. Yes, he loved you, but the underlying notion that no one else knew it angered him.
What good would it do him not to try and claim you, at least? If fucking you into the bliss of oblivion was what needed to be done….he could make that sacrifice.
Felix kissed the top of your head, grinning as you whined defeatedly as he shifted his hips to settle his cock further into you, “See, that wasn’t so hard to agree to, now was it, love?”
You pout, raising your head to glare at him playfully, “No….but now the stylists will have to cover me in two layers of foundation!”
Felix raised a brow, gently rolling his hips into again, and you melted underneath him at the overstimulation. “Who said we were done, angel?” He asks, smiling at your fucked out reflection shifting to a look of desperation. You opened your mouth to say something but the words died in your throat, replaced by a broken moan as he gradually pumped his length past your tender walls, spreading his cum over them, and edging you both to another round.
This was not how your day was supposed to go, but there was no fight left in you, and certainly not enough left to refuse being stuffed full with Felix’s cum for the next thirty minutes.
Felix chuckled at the sight of you accepting your fate, subconsciously rocking your hips back to meet his, and welcoming the oncoming warmth of his accumulating releases.
Maybe making him jealous could be your new favorite hobby….
++++++++
This one was fun. I'm kind of proud of how it came out too....my editing is getting better hehe.
[ BONUS CONTENT + ]
Credits to owner 🖤 FYI if I met him and he made a joke I’d start laughing the same way zendaya was cracking up everytime Tom holland opened his mouth….i mean how else am I gonna convince Felix he’s my soulmate lmao 🖤
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tinykonig · 1 year
Text
𝔠'𝔪𝔬𝔫, 𝔲𝔰𝔢 𝔪𝔢
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könig has really pretty hands... you think he deserves to know {reader has a major hand kink- don't we all-, könig has a praise kink and is absolutely obsessed with reader. this is very obviously nsfw 18+ only please and thank you ~this will also be cross-posted to ao3} intentionally lower-case
he is just so intrinsically captivating- everything about him. you never stop noticing him.
the second he walked into base, your throat ran dry when you realized the sheer size of the man. he could swallow you whole. you wanted him to.
you don't wanna say you had ulterior motives when you befriended him- you truly like the guy. he's funny and extremely sweet, and hanging around könig had other benefits. no one dared to mess with you when he was around. the usual chatter of men hitting you up or questioning your position melted into peaceful quiet and the soft sound of könig's voice.
like right now.
"did you hear me?" his voice comes from the edge of your mattress where he has perched himself, undoing the laces on his boots.
you are sitting at the chair to your desk and watching his long, strong fingers work around the dark strings to loosen them from the complicated knots. his hood was flipped back over his helmet revealing his concerned expression
your head snaps up, "no, sorry, big guy. zoned out," you respond, and you hope to god it sounds casual.
"oh, okay." he says awkwardly, pausing his movements to look at your face- slightly rosy and pupils blown- but if he notices he doesn't say anything. "i said i got something for you while i was gone."
your face brightens and you grin at him, his expression quickly mimicking your newly excited one.
he reaches into a pocket on his vest and pulls out something small, then he encases it in his large fist and holds it out in your direction.
“i actually made it,” he clarifies, chuckling at you as you begin to make grabby hands towards him, like an excited child.
you have to hold back a gasp when both of his hands wrap around your much smaller ones. it felt like pure electricity surging from his palms straight to your core.
he drops the object in your open hand and draws away, suddenly looking shy again.
it’s a tiny wooden figurine of your favorite animal. incredibly detailed and tiny and you turn in over in your hands in awe. a lump takes root in the base of your throat. könig never fails to take you by surprise with his thoughtfulness.
“könig i love it,” you whisper, not quite trusting your voice not to break at a normal volume, “it’s so fucking cute.”
“you like it?” you can hear the smile in his voice as he fully takes off his helmet and hood and sets it on your nightstand. he must have worked on taking off his boots fully along with his tac vest because they are now sitting in a neat pile beside the foot of your bed, left now in only his long sleeve black shirt and combat pants. he is visibly more relaxed now as he leans against the headboard.
“of course i do. how did you even make it? its so detailed.”
you love the proud grin that adorns his face.
“i was on night watch. cut out a chunk of wood from the windowsill, and carved using one of my knives. it took like 8 hours.”
you find an empty space on your desk and set the figurine there, shaking your head in disbelief as you turn to look at könig again.
“i accidentally cut my finger when i was carving the eyes,” he said, holding out a hand to you and showing you a superficial nick on his ring finger.
you scoot your chair closer to the bed so you can take his hand into yours and examine the tiny cut. you pout up at him and coo, “awww~ poor baby,”
and then without thinking you raised the finger to your lips and press a soft kiss to the cut. könig’s eyes are open wide and his breathing picked up considerably.
“all better now, right?” you ask teasingly, gaining confidence based off his reaction.
you carded your fingers through his and wait for his response. he surrenders his other hand into your lap as well, almost like he was in a trance
“yes,” he answers breathily.
you hum in response, still toying with the hand you hold in your possession. his hands were warm, you trace some of the scars that litter on his knuckles.
“sorry,” you mumble out the apology, “your hands are just really pretty.” you feel a little embarrassed, but not enough to let go of his hands.
könig makes a noise like he was stifling a cough and shakes his head, “ don’t apologize.” it sounds like a plead, and he makes no moves to remove his hands from your possession.
you make eye contact and recognize the want that pools in his light eyes. you are sure he sees it mirrored in yours as well. it gives you the courage to continue on the precarious path you found yourself walking.
“very pretty hands,” you murmur, “and they are so big,” holding his hand up to yours to display the ridiculous difference in size. he groans ever so lightly, his eyes now hooded under your gaze.
you knew he would never make the first move. it had to be you, and it had to be now.
“i think about your hands a lot, könig.”
your confession hangs in the air like a raincloud before a storm. filled with the promise of something more.
“tell me,” he whimpers lightly, tightening his grip on your hands for the first time this entire time you were holding them.
this is gonna be fun, you thought, grinning while you maneuvered yourself to sit on top of his thighs. you see his adam’s apple bop as he gulps in surprise.
you are still toying with his hands when you glance up at his eyes, “i think about how they would feel when they touch me,” you whisper, knowing he could hear you. he is hanging on to every word.
“touch you…” he breathes in deep, “where?”
you bring his hands under your loose t-shirt and rest them on the bare skin of your waist, keeping your hands on top of his- like you were scared he would move if you didn’t.
“here, for starters,” you respond, and you laugh a little when he presses his fingers into your skin there harder.
“are you ticklish?” he asks, smiling softly.
“just a bit,” you say, moving your hands to bring your shirt up over your head and you throw it on the floor next to the bed, messily in contrast to his perfectly folded pile of gear.
he is trying not to stare, and he is failing miserably. his hands seem to move of their own accord as they trail up your body to your bra-covered breasts.
“mmm,” you hum contentedly, “yes, i think about them touching there too,” reaching up to gently rake your fingers through his slightly shaggy hair. “although im not usually wearing this when i imagine it.”
“can i take it off?” he asks, doe eyes looking to yours for explicit permission.
now you stroke his cheekbone, along a very faint and fading scar. you grant him a nod.
quicker than you expected, he was sliding the straps down your arms and the back was unhooked. you were suddenly feeling extremely exposed, given he was still fully dressed. you tug twice on the front of his own shirt and he pauses his movements on your body to reach for his own shirt.
his torso is so long and sculpted, littered with raised pink scars, a few deeper white ones too that had healed for longer. the freckles on his face continued down his chest and arms you note, extremely pleased with that fact. he was so, so pretty. you wonder if he knows.
while you admire him, he raises his hands back to your now bare breasts and softly cups them. his touch is so gentle, and you can see in his eyes an expression of pure awe and trust.
tentatively you arch into his touch, just to have him press into your skin more. he comes out of his trance and desperation starts to take over. he tweaks a nipple between his two fingers and you moan at the unexpectedness of the action.
“that feels good, könig,” you whimper out, and he does it again. it’s so lovely to see him gain confidence from your words and your reactions. you decide to test something else out, “thats my good boy.”
the reaction is immediate. one of his arms moves to hook around your middle and pull you fully flush to his hips. you gasp at the feeling of him hot and hard under your clothed center.
“can i put my mouth on you?” he asks, and his voice still sounds so innocent and unsure but theres a hint of need creeping in as well.
“you can do anything you want,” you answer, loosing all composure and control you previously had.
he keeps his one hand on your waist, the other playing with your nipple. he brings his mouth to the other one, and you throw your head back and groan at how warm and wet it feels. he gently rolls his tongue around the nipple, biting lightly every few seconds. you’ve never felt so close to cumming from nipple play before, but with könig? everything was heightened.
you grip his hair harder and pull his mouth off you, looking into his eyes and breathily saying, “i haven’t told you where i think about your hands being the most.”
he groans. it’s a sinfully wonderful little noise.
“please,” he chokes out, “please, please tell me,”
you conjure up all the confidence left in your body under his gaze, and stand up and unbutton your pants. his eyes are heavy on your body as you slide them down your legs, and it’s like he cant help himself when he reaches out and runs his hands up and down one of your thighs.
“so soft,” he says, in complete reverence.
you almost feel bad for him when you see how painfully hard he is in his pants. you wonder for a second if his hands were so big, how big could he be there, too…
before sitting back down in his lap, you reach for his own pants to let him know that you wanted those off as well. he obeys you so easily, so eagerly.
he almost looks like he’s been hypnotized when you take your seat back on his lap, less barriers separating you two now. you are sure he can feel how wet you are, its soaked through your thin panties.
he just whimpers, and waits. waiting for you to tell him, like he so kindly asked you to.
so you do.
you grab one of his hands again, and he watches intently as you bring two of his long, thick fingers into your mouth. his jaw goes slack as you slide your tongue over his digits, coating them with your saliva. he lightly thrusts up, like he can’t control himself but he’s trying.
you hum again and release his fingers from your mouth and guide them down to your heat hovering over his clothed dick.
when he slipped past the band of your panties, he broke free of his trance. feeling your wet, throbbing pussy broke something in him and he was on a mission to make you feel as good as he possibly can. he slid his fingers back and forth over your clit and drank in your moans as his kissed you for the first time.
you whisper praises against his mouth, telling him how good he was doing. “better than i could have ever imagined,” you manage to breath out as he strokes you towards your orgasm just by massaging your clit.
every word you said went straight to his core, and it was a need- an absolutely feral need- to feel you cum on his hand.
“inside me,” you moan out, “please, put them inside me.”
his chest and face are burning red with want, and you start to feel bad that you’re the only one being pleasured as he slips two fingers into your pussy. through a bubbling moan in your chest you manage to ask him, “can i touch you, too?”
he looks at you like you just gave him his own personal star from the sky, “god, please” he says, his accent growing even thicker in want.
you pull him out of his boxers and gasp. if you thought his hands were big- this was just unfair. his cock stands tall against his stomach, pale pink and leaking. he is the most beautiful man in your universe, and you tell him.
he moans at your words and bucks his hips into the air. having mercy on him you wrap your hand around him. he rewards you by stroking the spongy part inside you with his two fingers. you start to roll your hips into his hand, and that spurs him on even further.
“c’mon, use me,” he mutters into your ear, “use my hand to make yourself cum. please, i need it so bad.”
you were already embarrassingly close, and his desperate words brought your orgasm crashing over you. your hand strokes his harder and you vaguely register his free hand grabbing your throat to pull your forehead to rest against his as he cums all over your hand and his stomach. you ride out your release on his hand until you can’t take it anymore and stop your movements.
the only sound in the room is heavy breathing. you whine as he removes his hand from you, which makes him chuckle a little. you open your eyes to meet his and he looks so blissful.
you smile back at him tiredly, “later, i’ll have to tell you about how i think about your mouth,” and he laughs his regular, loud laugh that you love. he pulls you into his chest to lay down fully.
“yes, i think you should.” he agrees.
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heartss4val · 3 months
Note
hi valerie!
i have a suggestion for a leo x reader. we all know he would give beautiful little gifts, so how do you think he would react when receiving them? like something artistic and carefully handmade. idk just thought it might me cute lmao
thank you 🩶
𐑺 ˖ ࣪ ࿐ྂ KNICKNACKS | leo valdez x gn!reader hc's [wc: 586]
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leo would be so ecstatic omg
he'd handle the small trinket you made for him with so much care and delicacy, you'd think it was made out of glass. and once he was finished admiring your creation, (though, that would take a while.) he'd immediately blurt out a high-pitched "for me??"
he just struggles to comprehend why someone as talented as you would use your creative abilities for him? he's so used to being overlooked that even the thought of being the recipient of your artistry is almost unfathomable. :(
leo would turn your creations over and over in his hands, silently memorizing every detail, as if he's afraid that your work might vanish if he takes his eyes off of it.
and his reaction?? always stays the same?? no matter how long its been?? you'd present your work to him and he'd be so theatrically shocked. like full on gasping and lowkey fighting for his life as if he hadn't expected the gift at all, even though you'd been showering him with your creations for the past month.
but once he gets past that point?? he becomes almost obnoxious about it. 💀 he'd sit in the dining pavilion so proudly, your little knickknack perched right next to him with the full intent of somebody asking him about it JUST so that he could ramble about you.
literally ONE person would bring it up, just to make small conversation, and he'd be like, "oh, THIS?? it was made by MY partner, for ME, by the way. but no big deal, y'know."
waited his entire life for that moment fr.
i completely mean it when i say leo would sweep ALL the belongings from his shelf to showcase even ONE item you made for him in all its glory. front and center. his siblings are so confused.
but if you start regularly gifting him things and blessing him with your artistry on a daily basis? he'll dedicate an entire shelf to your creations. and it's so funny because the rest of his area is so cluttered and disorganized, with random unfinished projects laying around without a second thought, bed not even made, but the shelf above his bunk?? the one with all your creations sitting on it?? it's so neat?? organized and color coded and everything?? it almost looks out of place.
even when you're away on quests, he still admires the creations you've left behind, tenderly cradling them in his hands and running his fingers over every curve and edge, as though you were still with him in the moment. :((
after some time, the gifting thing would turn into running joke between you two. a game of one-upmanship where every gift had to be better than the last. like if you made him a small sculpture out of clay, he would show up at your cabin the next day with a BOUNTY full of creations he made himself, along with a bouquet of flowers that he borrowed with no intention of giving back (stole) from the demeter kids to top it all off. <3
you'd make him one thing and he makes you ten more, he's so whipped.
leo would cherish your gifts so much, like he's almost scared of ruining them. especially if your gift is something that is SUPPOSED to be worn, like a ring of some sort. he'd proudly wear it around camp, obviously, but he'd check on it every few minutes to make sure it hadn't magically vanished from his finger. or worse, broke.
of course, leo knows he could fix it if it became damaged, but it wouldn't be the same. it wouldn't have your charm and artistry, your unique touch that made it so special.
all in all, leo is so enamored with your creativity, but judging by his actions, you probably already knew that.
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malewifeharem · 25 days
Note
Hi! If it isn’t much of a bother can I req a silent yet affectionate person with Danheng or Jing Yuan? If not that’s totally fine!
danheng w a silent yet affectionate reader
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彡- ,, brainrot of danheng with a quiet yet affectionate reader
cw ⁞ shouldn't have any cuz its fluffy fluff fluff. not proofread.
an ⁞ I WASNT SURE IF THIS WAS DANHENG OR DHIL SO TAKE IT AS EITHER I GUESS??? i had normal danheng in mind while writing so up to your interpretation.
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danheng totally gets you tbh. he's definitely an introvert too, just like you! you guys don't even need to speak to communicate! it's like telepathy! (woah) but that's okay, you both show your love for each other in different ways other than through words! i can totally see him being a gift giver, quality time and acts of service kinda guy.
gift giving! danheng is the best on any type of occasion HAHA. be it valentines, anniversaries, birthdays, christmas even. he only gift things he'd be happy to receive so you bet everything will be in pristine condition or HANDMADE. (i love handmade shit) once, for your anniversary, he presented you a little heart shaped box filled with goodies in it. your favorite candies and snacks, a handwritten letter and a well-crafted handmade small album!
IT HAS PICTURES OF JUST THE TWO OF YOU IN IT. THERE'S SO MANY PAGES IT'S INSANE. YOU DIDN'T EVEN REALIZE HE SNAPPED PICTURES OF YOU IN MOST OF THEM, IT'S ADORABLE... the letter itself is so well written too — his handwriting is very neat! he details very vividly the memories he had with you that he's most fond of — you can tell it means a lot to him. he'll even request to read it out to you if you don't mind. HE'LL HOLD YOUR HAND AND RUB CIRCLES ON YOUR THUMB WHILE READING AND HE'S A VERY QUIET PERSON SO JUST THINK ABOUT HOW MUCH THIS MEANS TO BOTH HIM AND YOU. he's a sweetheart please take good care of him... :(
quality time! he definitely pops by at your room in the astral express to ask to hangout with you. even if it's seemingly pointless, he just wants to be close to you and soak up as much time with you as possible... IT MAY BE TOTAL SILENCE BUT IT'S COMFORTABLE SILENCE. YES, THERE'S A DIFFERENCE... NO, IT'S NOT REALLY EXPLAINABLE... he actually doesn't even mind talking if you wanted him to. he could read his or your favorite book to you or his daily reports.
"i really don't mind anything if it's with you," he says with a soft hum. (AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA)
acts of service! y'all know that one meme where the front person goes, "he asked for no pickles! >:(" and the person at the back is like all nervous and everything? yeah that's the both of you. he's the front person just with less >:( and more :[ (you're just you)
"hello, excuse me... sorry, she asked for no pickles. could you remake this? yes, thank you. that would be most appreciated."
after it's fixed...
"my love, they've remade your order. here you go. eat slowly, okay? no need to thank me, it's my duty as your boyfriend." I JUST KNOW FOR A FACT HE SAID IT SO MATTER-OF-FACTLY TOO LIKE IT'S HE HAS THAT CODED IN HIS BRAIN. HE'S SO YOURS. HE'S SMITTEN. TAKE HIM AWAY.
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cult-of-the-eye · 5 months
Text
@itisonlyeyes your henna design has made me think about jmart south Asian wedding and I'm Not Ok
Jon in a beautifully gorgeous deep green, bedazzled kurta/lehenga hybrid so like slightly more masculine kurta with some small, neat embroidery on the edges with a flowy huge lehenga skirt
He didn't go for the dupatta/orna/scarf cause hes still not great with potential restrictions of movement
He's all decked out in the bridal jewellery - my man is wearing the Biggest silver earrings, he's got the massive fake nose piercing that connects to his hair and hes SLAYING. (Maybe his grandma passed them down??)
You bet he's got that brooding bridal look down!! Although he sees Martin and he cannot keep it up for the life of him he's just a smiling mess
There's no loud music. (I know I'm sorry but it's them, the music is simple and meaningful and the guest list is small so its not quite the usual south Asian wedding but they enjoy themselves)
Martin is dressed very smartly in a light blue kurta, with billowing embroidery etching it's down up the kurta's sleeves and following in henna down his hands
He'd wearing light blue nail polish to match and his hair is dyed the same colour at the edges
I like the idea of Jon and martin sitting down and talking about what they wanted and coming up with the rituals not cause of the religious or cultural significance but because of what it meant to them specifically.
Like they do vows cause Martin has always loved that part of weddings and let's be honest, he just wants a chance to say nice things about Jon without him protesting and Jon agrees cause of literally the same reason (they're not good at compliments)
They do the turns around the fire but they hold hands instead of being tied to each other cause they feel like it represents how they chose each other and they do 15 turns cause it's Martin's lucky number (they first met on the 15th October 2015)
They skip the haldi cause sensory issues
They instead get everyone to make their own flower garlands and give them to each other and obviously Jon and Martin make each others flower garlands and Jon mostly agrees to it cause Martin seemed enthusiastic about it and he did want to keep the giving each other flower garland ritual but he gets the Most Excited about it in the end cause hes super detail oriented about his, making sure each flower is specifically positioned how he wants it to and Martin's going off just vibes. They must be the correct vibes but vibes nonetheless.
I love the idea of doing the bride's side has to steal the grooms shoes and the grooms side has to stop this from happening so we can get Shenanigans (Tim is the most intense about this. Gerry comes a close second. Sasha wins though.)
There aren't so much sides, cause everyone's friends with both, which makes the shoe game even more intense cause you never know when people will swap sides.
Gerry does their henna. He just gives off good at drawing vibes I dunno.
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Note
Hi, Kat! I love how obsessed you are with Levi…because same. Anyhow, I have a question👉🏻👈🏻
If Levi were to travel forward into our time, what are some things you think would send him into a coma?
Much love❤️ Violet~
hi violet!! i think my identity is just being obsessed with levi at this point tbh ksdjfkslfkj
i think most things he'd acknowledge as cool and neat and prob would be helpful in canonverse, but there are def a few things that would throw him off
levi with modern!au gadgets
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➼ i can see him being fascinated by feather dusters. idk about you, but for me, cleaning up lint with a cloth is a pain in the ASS, so levi having a feather duster would finally provide him with what he needs to be able to get the room/house/apartment/etc as spotless as he usually requires in canonverse. no more ordering the cadets to clean for him, it's now the responsibility of the feather duster. he'll probably be quite displeased once he finds out that he has to regularly replace it due to how quickly lint gathers onto it.
➼ i think he'd DEFINITELY be weirded out by keurigs at first. is it a water boiler? why would you make it through that annoyingly loud device instead of brewing it yourself (especially if its tea)? he'll get his head around it pretty quickly though, but you bet that he'd get into brewing contests with it to see who makes it better (it's him obvs)
➼ he'd probably have the same attitude that he did towards the feather dusters when it comes to a roomba. he'd be intrigued and even fascinated at first, but would likely pick up on little detailed spots that the roomba would fail to sweep up. his disdain for the little device gets even worse once he realizes how absolutely FILTHY the sweeping rod gets if you don't regularly clean it.
➼ lets be real, you'd have a full dishwasher installed in your house and levi would have no idea that it existed until you came up to him one day and asked why he was doing all the dishes by hand, and that you could technically save water if you just ran the dishwasher. even after that, he'd be skeptical on if it could actually get all the grime off or not, even after the dishes come out squeaky clean
➼ i think this one would actually piss him off. of course he'd be impressed by the washer and dryer unit that you have. not having to handwash clothes was convenient and made everything easier. however, as soon as he had to clean the lint tray from the drying machine, his nose would scrunch up as a complete look of disgust took over his features. no matter how careful you were, small lint particles would get knocked into the air. he'd try to navigate it quickly and carefully at first to avoid the dust build-up, but it didn't take long before he just gave up entirely and began going on cleaning sprees in the laundry room whenever you have to run the dryer to pick up after the dust that settled after each cycle.
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gatitties · 4 months
Note
Hello!!! Can I ask you something?
I wanted to ask for a super cute Scenario or headcanons, where in One Piece's AU, Shanks is a businessman who has a very good salary and is married to YN who is a super kind and attentive housewife who treats Shanks like a king, because he always is working and always getting very tired from work and still pleases YN with gifts and taking her out on days off, they don't necessarily have kids, that's you decision
shanks wants his wife to be the happiest wife in the world!!!
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─Shanks x wife!reader
─Summary: it doesn't seem like you can get a second of rest, but your husband surprises you with some gifts.
─Warnings: modernAU
this is so cute hjhsajh 😳
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You narrowed your eyes as you saw the vase slightly further to the right, moving it a couple of centimeters so that it was exactly in the right spot, in the same place you put it every day after doing a big cleaning of the house.
You sat on the neat couch, scanning the living room for anything still missing out of place, smiling at your good work, although the smile soon disappeared when a slight back pain broke your good mood bubble, the pain had intensified lately since Shanks had some meetings in his personal study, so you did your best to make everything as organized and clean as usual.
It was a bit sad since he spent many hours busy, although he always made up for it on the weekends when he had his days off, however the company had to resolve some issues regarding some clients and employees, collections, payroll, settlements… there were always months filled with a lot of work and you both ended up so exhausted that you didn't even have a single moment to talk for days.
Today seemed like it was going to be one of those days where you were waiting with a glass of wine, eating dinner alone in the kitchen, you knew that if Shanks hadn't arrived by a certain time, you shouldn't make dinner for two, and you were about to get to cook, you only managed to cut a couple of onions when you screamed when you felt a strong arm lift you slightly from the ground, your shock faded when you felt the redhead's presence.
"I thought you wouldn't come today."
"Surprise!"
He joined his lips with yours sweetly, when he put you back on the ground, he left for a second to return with a small bouquet of roses and a wrapped box, you frowned strangely at the detail, Shanks was not a person who usually did gifts like that, yes, he would buy you things, but he would just arrive and give it to you unwrapped or he would just ask you if you want that thing directly.
"What is this? Oh don't tell me I forgot about our anniversary or-"
Your worried tone and nervousness for having forgotten some important date was cut by the man's lips, who left a trail of short kisses all over your face, making you laugh like a fool in love, he smiled at this.
"No, I'm the most likely to forget that kind of thing love, it's just a gift! Can't I spoil you a little? I know how much it costs to maintain a home, plus your sore muscles..."
He took your hands in his, rubbing circles with his thumb on your knuckles, you melted under his touch, pulling him to your body to sink into a comfortable embrace, you breathed in his scent slowly, burying your face in his shoulder, he let you hold the position. As long as you needed, Shanks didn't care if you spent hours hugging him, he would enjoy every second of contact. You pulled away a couple of minutes later, turning your attention now to the box he had left on the kitchen counter earlier next to the roses, curious about its contents, he urged you to open it, even he seeming more excited than you by the gift.
"Oh… how did you know this was what I wanted? I don't remember telling you about it yet."
Although both you and Shanks used to share certain things that you needed or would like to have for possible birthday, anniversary or Christmas gifts… you still hadn't had the opportunity to tell him that this was what you were thinking of buying as a self-gift for your next birthday.
"A husband's intuition never fails, and look, there are more things!"
Looking at the bottom of the box you pulled out two stiff papers that seemed to be hidden, a silly smile decorating your lips as you read them.
"Spa and massage session for two?"
He raised and lowered his eyebrows with a mischievous smile, you laughed, hitting his shoulder, hugging him again as a way of thanking him, you felt a little bad for not having a gift for him right now, since you weren't the only one who needed a break from time to time from work, but you made a mental note to look for something that he might like.
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boccher · 8 months
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widefield of the milky way core, 1hr total exposure time from a Bortle 2 dark site at 24mm focal length
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The photo contains a bunch of my other photos within it. I think its neat to see the context of all the nebulae
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1:
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A little ramble under the cut
The most common question astronomers get is "what does it look like to the naked eye?" Photos are usually much more detailed and colourful, since cameras can take long exposures while our eyes can't.
I was able to observe it from the Bortle 2 site with about 10 mins of dark adaptation (astronomers usually recommend at least 30 mins but I was busy at the time). I edited the photo to try to account for the level of details, colour, and stars that I was able to see with my eyes, here:
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It was mostly colourless, but I think I was able to see a faint hint of golden brown colour right in the brightest part of the milky way core. The central bulge of the milky way extended just short of Antares (bright yellow star at the top), and I was just barely able to see the dark dust lanes extending to Antares. The Lagoon nebula was obviously visible as a small diffuse cloud, and the Omega nebula was also visible as a fuzzy looking "star" if you knew where to look.
Keep in mind though this is in the southern hemisphere, where the milky way core passes directly overhead. In the northern hemisphere, this region of the milky way is lower on the horizon, and is thus dimmed by the atmosphere. On the other hand, I didn't adapt my eyes to the darkness for very long, and I was in a Bortle 2 site (the darkest skies are rated Bortle 1), so even better views are definitely possible.
I think the biggest thing that photos can't capture is the sheer size of the milky way in the sky. It stretches across the entire sky from horizon to horizon, and at its thickest point it's wider than two outstretched hands at arms length. The sky is also dotted with stars covering your entire field of vision. As much as it's a cliché thing to say, you really do get a sense of yourself on earth floating through space. It's an insanely immersive experience
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yaekiss · 9 months
Note
#MailroomOpen! hi hi my darling qi this is the promised letter to my Special Little Guy!! letter delivery for yandere tartaglia with a nsfw reply back and also a meme reference for number 25 if it's alright? pet names are a-ok, encouraged even. ok here goes, thank you so much for doing this!!! i am cringe but i am free ♡
(The letter that arrives is black with gold borders and purple ink, with a purple lipstick kiss mark on the back of it. There are doodles of stars, moons, skulls, and hearts in the margins. The penmanship is neat and playful, every i and j dotted with either stars or hearts, depending on the subject matter. A small box of the same color as the letter comes with it, inside is an ocean-blue collar with a tag that says "My Ajax". It looks expensive.)
My lovely Ajax,
It's only been a few weeks since you left, but in my opinion, any time away from you is too long. I miss your presence, your conversation, your cooking, and some more...intimate things. I'm sure you feel the same. I really wish you didn't have to leave so often, sometimes I think you might care for your Tsaritsa more than me~ Hehe, I'm only joking, of course. I know you're very loyal, and love me very much... (There's a furious scribble over the next words, but you can just barely make out that it says "maybe more than you should") Anyway, moving on, this letter should arrive with a collar. I picked them out special just for you; blue like your eyes! There's a matching leash, but I kept it with me so we can use it when you get back, hehe ♡. Make sure to show me how pretty you look with it on, okay puppy~? ...And come back safe. I'll be patiently awaiting your return, hopefully soon.
~Your darling
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꩜ Letter Content: Dom! GN! Reader x Yan! Sub! Tartaglia, no gendered terms for reader, Tartaglia calls you "dearest exalted", mentions of blood, unhealthy and obsessive relationship from Tartaglia, worshipping (reader receiving), collar and leash (used on Tartaglia), masochistic Tartaglia, mentions of mirror sex, Tartaglia calls himself puppy once, lmk if I missed out anything ! ꩜ Delivery Notes: Weird, as soon as he handed his parcel to me, he started booking it to your address, like damn it's not a race?! ꩜ Wanna write a love letter yourself? Check out it out here!
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A medium-sized parcel finds its way into your possession, placed in front of your doorstep. The box is made of smooth varnished timber and the intricate details are inlaid with gems and shards that match the stunning shade of your eyes. Judging by all the elaborate carvings and the overall quality of the trunk, it must have cost him a pretty penny, especially if it was commissioned just for you. 
Flipping the lid of the box open at its hinge, your eyes are greeted by the sight of the sheer amount of items he sent to you. Ajax is nothing but a generous lover and it's definitely evident with all the gifts he prepared for you this time. Starting out, there are a few neatly packed food containers imbued with a charm that helped to preserve their contents perfectly over the lengthy delivery trip. Each one is labelled with the name of the dish it holds and after looking through the various containers, you realise they’re all your favourite dishes, lovingly made from scratch by Ajax.
To a side, there’s a hefty drawstring pouch. Tugging the bag open, a large pile of mora shimmers back at you. You should’ve known he would spoil you like this even if he were away. Tucked underneath the bag of mora, is his letter.
The envelope is a version of the one typically used for fatui matters, except this one is a lot gaudier than usual. …It’s the kind used for letters addressed exclusively to Her Royal Highness, the Tsaritsa. Just the look of it is expensive: A frosted gold border lines the front of the envelope and his wax stamp seals the letter shut at the back, away from prying eyes. Surely using an envelope reserved for the Tsaritsa for you is more than a bit… blasphemous. Nonetheless, you try not to think too much about it and gingerly open the letter up to read his reply.
His handwriting is scrawling and slightly messy as always but you know that it’s just from the eagerness that he seems to constantly have while around you, like some sort of oversized puppy. Present is a tangible tenderness in all his words and you can just about picture the silly little smile he had on his face while he wrote this letter to you. Additionally, there are hearts blotchily drawn in a rusty red around in the margins to match your love letter sent to him. His response reads:
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“To my highest divinity, my owner,
It’s so so so good to hear from you, dearest exalted! Ah, I can’t believe you’d miss me, I’m swooning, at least now I know I’m not the only one left longing. I saw you mention that you missed my cooking so to remedy that, I prepared some of your favourite dishes, I didn’t quite know which one would be the best to send to you, so I just sent all of them, haha. Please let me know if they’re to your liking, dearest exalted. Regarding missing my presence… there’s only 1 solution for that which you’ll see soon enough!
I saw your scribbled-out words. ‘Maybe more than you should.’ My reverence for you must not be enough, and that’s why you still doubt me, doubt my love for you, right, dearest exalted? Although the Tsaritsa may be important to me, however, even the loyalty I have for her cannot hold a candle to the utmost adoration that I have for you. Far, far, far from it. What you see right now is but a mere glimpse of my endless devotion and love for you, dearest exalted. There is so much more that I would do for you. Just say the word, that’s all you’ll ever need to do, and I’ll carry out any of your orders till the end of my days. Even in death, I’d still be yours to command. Beyond the grave, that’s how much you deserved to be loved, dearest exalted. (His paragraph drips with festering lovesickness in the way the ink looks to be redder than the one in his inkwell.)
Ahem, moving on! Thank you for the collar, it sits wonderfully around my neck and fits like a glove. Really brings out my eyes too, was that intentional? And the tag… oh, the tag. I must confess, I’ve imagined what it would be like, to have you attach the leash to it and tug me in front of the mirror, making me watch through the reflection as you have your way with me. I would let out all the sounds you said you liked hearing from me, my moans or whines or screams, I’d give you anything you want. You could be as rough as you’d like to too, pulling harshly on the leash as you take your frustrations out on me, you know I love whatever you grace me with, dearest exalted.
I’ll end my letter here, my remaining words can be relayed when I’m back soonest, I promise! Remember to tell me if anyone has wronged you, I’ll gladly rid you of them, dearest exalted. Can’t wait to be under you again! 
Your most devoted puppy,
- Your Ajax -”
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That’s certainly… a reply worthy of your contemplation, to say the least. Inserting his reply back into the envelope, you wonder what else he could’ve left unsaid in a letter that’s already chock full of the rawest form of veneration towards you. Sitting in pensive silence, your mind reels. Fortunately for you (or perhaps it’s the contrary), your answer arrives frighteningly fast, disrupting the stillness. 
There’s a knock at your door, a familiar keening whine bleeding through the wood.
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Thanks for reading! Consider supporting me on kofi if you enjoyed this or check out my other works hehe ♡
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vashsmunch · 11 months
Text
Crumbs
Millions Knives x GN Reader
Synopsis: barista knives basically LMAO
Warnings: none
A/N: silly little coffee man who makes ur drink perfectly every time
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─── · 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
"That'll be $$8.35! Are you paying cash or card?"
Curse these local aesthetic coffee shops, robbing society of its money. You pulled out your wallet, grimacing as you talked back and forth with the cashier. A receipt prints out, and the cashier hands it to you, their mood noticeably happier when they saw that you'd tipped. The irony was dumbfounding, but you did it nonetheless. 
You glanced over to the end of the bar, scanning faces until you finally settled on one. There you are. Working as diligently as always, his gaze never meeting yours, but that's how he was. Most workers plastered on a fake smile, ass kissing in an attempt to raise their customer ratings. He was different, though, and maybe that's why he appealed to you so much. Stoic with a slightly condescending gaze, it just made him even more attractive. Your eyes rolled over his name tag as if you didn't have it engraved in your head a million times over. "It wouldn't kill you to say hi, considering I'm here every other day." 
Nai glared at you, quirking an eyebrow. "Then you should know that I already have your order done, so pick it up and leave me be." 
A heavy sigh left your lips as you walked to the other end of the counter and picked up your drink. You took a sip and rolled your eyes. Perfect, as always. "You talk a lot of sass for someone who has my drink memorized and ready every time I walk through the door. Just admit it, you like seeing me."
He didn't respond and started to make the following order. A small smile settled on your lips before you turned away to study in the corner like you always did. You would purposely pick a table facing the bar so you could give Nai glances over the top of your laptop. Sometimes he would meet your eyes, and you'd quickly look down back at your screen, praying he didn't mention it later on. He never did. 
Before you got too far, you heard him speak again. "It would be in your best interest to look at your cup in closer detail." You looked at him, your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he nonchalantly steamed some milk in a pitcher. What was he talking about? Hesitantly, you slightly pulled down the paper sleeve to see a message scribbled on the cup in neat handwriting. 
XXX-XXX-XXXX. Call me later. I'll pick you up for our date tonight.
Your eyes bugged out as you stared at the words, completely flabbergasted. You looked up at him, not even fully registering what he wrote for you to read. He gave you an insufferable smirk and walked off, leaving you standing in the cafe, gaping at him like an idiot. "WHAT?"
≻───── ⋆✩⋆ ─────≺
Back and forth, back and forth. You groaned loudly as you shoved your face into your hands, walking around your living room. It wasn't as if you were nervous, of course not! This wasn't a date; there's no way it could be. Nai, the infuriating smartass, the intolerable piece of shit, the stupid blond hair man with the most sex appeal you'd ever seen... 
God, what am I thinking??? You slapped your cheeks, shaking your head as if trying to unlodge the thirsty thoughts from your brain. There was no way he could be serious about this. There's no way! You fiddled with your clothes, trying to smooth out any wrinkles that may have been plaguing you since being snatched from the back of your closet. It'd been a while since you'd gone on a date, so they hadn't been put to use in ages. The last time you went on one, your date ditched you as soon as the tab came. You still weren't over that.
You started pacing again, chewing on your thumb, before picking up your phone on the coffee table to stare at the screen. The conversation between you and Nai had been short, and he didn't even say where he was taking you. You were tempted to ask but knew it was futile. He was a man who liked to keep people at an arm's distance. At least, that's what you gathered from your interactions (from you staring at him from across the cafe whenever you went). The fact that he'd even asked you on this date, to begin with, was baffling, considering he always acted like you were some kind of nuisance. He would let out a loud sigh every time you walked through the cafe doors and roll his eyes when you uttered a single word to him. So what gives?
You jumped as you heard a sudden knock on your door. A quick glance at your phone told you it was 7 o'clock sharp. Leave it to him to be a punctual prick. Your heart was hammering as you stepped closer to the door, and it infuriated you. Why did he affect you this much? What about him left you pining like some sort of immature middle schooler? Was it his eyes? The way they roamed up and down your body whenever you talked? His lips, maybe? How they would curl up into a slight smirk every time he retorted with some witty comeback? Stop it!
A deep breath in, and you finally opened the door. And there he was, dressed in his loose black turtle neck and tailored pants, adjusting his watch as he skimmed your outfit with mild interest. How he looked at you made your hands sweat, feeling small as he came closer. Nai reached toward you, and you literally felt your heart stop. Then, your entire body was on fire as he swiped his thumb across the corner of your lips. You stared at him wide-eyed, and he returned the gaze with a quirked eyebrow. 
"You had a crumb," Fuck. He looked like he was about to laugh, but he stopped himself, extending the crook of his elbow towards you. "Shall we?"
You shakily put your arm through his, nodding as you gave him a meek smile. "Where to?"
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spearxwind · 7 months
Note
Since you're on the topic I have genuine question about AI art designs from a non-artist.
In your opinion would using an AI tool to generate a reference for a commission (whether it be for character design or pose) be an appropriate use of said tools?
I thought about this as well and I gotta say, personally I don't think so.
Barring for the purpose of this ask the whole "AI art is stolen art" thing (which I stand by fiercely), AI generated images are really janky, especially reference sheets. There are details everywhere that make no fucking sense, anatomy is deformed, they have a lot of nonsensical parts to them so its just one big jumble of nothing.
And, it's pulling from designs created by existing artists and warping them to fit your prompt. It's work that another artist already made, used by an AI that's trained on a specific dataset. It also pulls from popular things that people enjoy: tried and true color combos, the most popular shapes that big artists use, theres a LOT of waifus, and a lot of the art genuinely comes in the same painterly style that's really hard to color pick from. some even come with color swatches that don't match the colors on the reference
In short, it's just a machine generating something that looks neat at first glance, and then is actual hot garbage when you just... look at it closely. Not to mention that an AI prompt can be iterated, and the AI pulls from everything it has, for every prompt, so what you end up getting is completely samey designs with small changes. Good for concept art assistance, but not if you want to create a Legit Character. The AI will give you something that it has already spit out a thousand times over and then some, with no regards to composition, design technique, color theory, because all it knows is what it has been fed and what the artists its ripping off of know (meaning if they have mistakes, the AI will as well. But in a far less human way)
Meanwhile, when you commission someone you are likely to go for someone whos art style will actually fit what you want to get, or someone whos art style you enjoy. Usually these artists will be people you've followed for a while and you at least know them enough to know what they can do. And they are also reactive, you can tell them to actually change and tweak details of what they're making for you. And not taking into account the bad actors out there (as there are always bad actors in every discipline) you will have something that has been made specifically FOR you, not just what a machine thinks you would perceive as eye candy.
As for poses... just draw it badly in ms paint. The AI will not give you the pose you want for the aforementioned reason: broken anatomy (and also because it will pull from its dataset of poses it can warp features onto. It's a lot more limited than you think.) If you want a pose prompt for a commission just draw it really badly in ms paint or on a napkin and write annotations for the artist (arm goes here, this guy is grabbing this thing, etc etc) Most of us if not all of us will GLADLY interpret your pose for you and draw whatever you want us to.
And like. Literally if you're going to get commissions anyway, why not commission a design first thing of all?? Or buy an adoptable from people who already make them by hand? It will genuinely be so much better than just hoping a machine does all the work for you. Please support artists
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lady-jane3 · 6 months
Text
·:*¨༺ kinktober day 5: collaring ༻¨*:·
pairing: omega x reader
warnings: nsfw & pet play
a/n: idk im not super into this myself but yknow i think there's something powerful about seeing a large guy (ghoul) acting small
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pic from pinterest
Omega was usually an understated type of dresser, or in blunt terms: he dressed simply, with just his uniform and a ring on his finger. But he had recently picked up a new habit. Though it was a very small change, it was far more noticeable due to how much it seemed to contrast with the norm.
It was more noticeable than the glittery makeup Secondo would wear around his eyes, granted, Secondo wore fairly extravagant robes and silly getups at times. The ghoul started wearing a neat little silver chain around his neck. No pendants or interesting details on it, just a plain silver necklace. I waited and observed for a few days, trying to figure out where this sudden change came from.
There was no special occasion, nor was it a gift from his beloved Terzo – he just decided to start wearing one. I would have to show him my appreciation for it. My moment came after a night mass, dragging him away with me and locking him in my dimly-lit room. We were seated over my plush bed, the nearby lamp emitting a small glow of warm light.
Omega nuzzled into my hand when I pet over his head, completely oblivious to my true intentions for the night. At least, until I hooked my finger in the silver chain and tugged him closer to me by the grip I had on the necklace. His eyes went wide and his ears perked up in alertness, looking right up at me as he sank downward in his posture while I came up on my knees to look down at him.
“I like this thing, Omega.” I remarked, giving a tug on the chain that would leave indents in his skin but not break the metal. “Looks cute on you… kinda like a collar, don’t you think?”
He swallowed, his throat right up against the top of my finger, “Ehh, yeah, I guess so.”
“I got you a present after I saw you start wearing this.” 
“O-Oh… really?” He asked nervously.
“Mhm… do you want to see it?”
“S-Sure.”
“Be good for me and stay right there.” I commanded, letting the chain fall from my finger and slipping away to find his kind.
Having prepared for this moment, I already had the gift box prepared nearby. It was a decently large size, mostly just because Omega was a ghoul and one of the larger ones.
I set the box over his lap and let him open it up. He made sure to thank me before even reaching for it, then took the lid off the top. Inside lay a real collar. Black leather and two inches thick, a silvery buckle like that of a belt fastening it together. A small omega symbol was engraved into a strip of silver near the buckle.
He knew what it was meant for and swallowed thickly again, “Uh, thank you. I just… I’m surprised. I haven’t worn anything like this, so... c-can you help me?”
“Aww, you want me to put it on you?”
He nodded sheepishly, his ears drooping down and head following suit. I took the collar from its box and stepped behind him, unclipping the buckle then setting the leather around his neck. It was just loose enough for him to breathe fine but added just a touch of constriction.
His silver chain rested loosely below it. Omega’s face flushed a cool periwinkle color. 
“You like it?” I asked, setting the box on the nightstand.
“Yes.” He admitted.
“Are you gonna be a good boy for me?” 
He shifted in his seat and already had his arms instinctively pulled behind his back, “Yes.”
“We’ll see about that.” I smiled to myself. “Now, help your master undress. I can’t be bothered with doing it myself.”
He didn’t even answer before reaching to fulfill the command. I didn’t scold him for that, appreciating his eagerness to act and not waste a moment confirming that he’d do it. Omega took the utmost care in slipping the pieces of my uniform off, folding them neatly in one stack, and sitting back with his hands behind his back again when he finished.
I set the stack of folded clothes off to the side and gave him a look-over. 
“I don’t think there’s any use in you disrobing completely. I really only want one thing from you, pet.” I spoke. “Do you know what that is? You may speak.”
“M-My cock, master?” He spoke, his tone full of hope.
“Very good, pet. Take it out for me and lay back against the headboard while I use it.”
He silently moved to fulfill my command, unbuckling the belt at the top of his trousers and working the black fabric down to his mid-thigh. Only enough to pull himself out with. Exactly as I commanded him to. Omega kept his arms pulled back, his hands clasped together behind his back.
He swallowed in anticipation, the collar going taut around his neck for a moment and reminding him that it was there. I moved forward, setting myself right into place over him then seating myself down slowly on his cock. It was intentionally that slow, just to torment him a little extra and make sure he could feel every little bit of me sliding down, engulfing him.
Omega struggled to hide his reactions, coughing quietly under the collar and the light-colored flush spreading further over his skin. He shifted against the headboard, trying to find some way to get relief without pushing up and getting himself in trouble. Chuffs came from between his tightly-pressed lips, then finally a shaky whimper when I was fully seated over him. 
“Mm, feels nice.” I remarked. “Now stay still, pet, or you won’t like what happens.” 
“Yes, master.” He answered, his voice already sounding labored. 
I smirked, already knowing that he wasn’t going to be able to make good on that promise. 
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lisimcpisi · 6 months
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RB!Optimus prime being simultaneously a wise leader, silly goofy guy, and tired but supportive dad. Allow me to explain
Just immediately ripping the bandaid off in the first episode going like "yea so our homeplanet is dead and you guys are probably the last of your faction in existence so i'm gonna put you on an island in the US of A with too much advanced technology and we'll see what happens. Also humans. Get used to those."
Constantly trying to deflect Heatwave's requests to join his team on the mainland. I have the headcanon he pretends to have bad connection or says "oh sorry heatwave I'm kinda busy bye-"
So when Heatwave decides he wants to stay with his team on Griffin Rock Optimus is just like "Oh good I'm glad you decided that" cuz internally he's thinking "oh thank primus now I dont' have to deal with your calls"
Casually just transforming into a dinobot in Season 3
And its never acknowledged in Transformers Prime even tho both shows are supposedly in the same timeline
Also really neat detail of having the bots rescue Optimus when his primal mode takes over and he loses control
Apparently Optimus likes children literature.
Ok this is off track but you know those little library mailboxes in small neighborhoods where you can take out/donate books to read? Yea Optimus definitely takes books from those and just spends hours reading like idfk green eggs and ham
Anyways optimus is a silly goober and i love him
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theresattrpgforthat · 5 months
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Any RPGs (/settings / supplements) that you know of that have a set of mechanics based on harvesting parts of slain monsters for various effects? I just think that would be a neat system to throw into an OSR type game :)
THEME: Monster Recycling
Hello friend! I had a lot of fun putting together game recommendations for this, I've seen a few games inspired by Monster Hunter and I definitely see the appeal!
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Monster Guts, by Wheels Within Wheels Publishing.
Welcome to MONSTER GUTS, a tabletop roleplaying game, Illuminated by LUMEN, that draws from your favorite monster-hunting video games.
This book has rules to build your scavenger, pick a starting weapon and friendly companion critter, and then go out hunting giant monsters!
Set in a post-capitalism world where monsters bio-engineered to extract resources have destroyed much of the world, you must hunt these creatures to sustain your village, one of the few settlements in the Pacific Northwest to have survived. You'll also harvest tags that you can slot into your weapons and garb to power up your scavenger.
Monster Guts is LUMEN, so expect cinematic action with effective moves that feel more and more powerful as you level up. It’s made a bit of a splash on Itch.io due to its ability to replicate the feeling of the Monster Hunter video game. Your character classes take the form of weapons, with different stats and special abilities. There are also tags that can be added on to them as you slay monsters for their parts. When it comes to the backstory, the lore focuses on a small village, trying to survive in a world of monsters that they once created. Once again, the enemy is capitalism.
Butchers & Beasties, by Kerobuki.
A Monster Hunter-like TTRPG hacked from a mixture of Emiel Boven's DURF  and the creator’s own projects.
Butchers & Beasties is a bare-bones, rules-only draft of a monster-hunting game. It uses dice pools of d6’s and staggered successes for basic conflict resolution. Inventory is important in this game - you have limited inventory slots and you also have to choose where you’re going to store your equipment - will you keep your lantern in your pack, and have to dig it out every time you use it, or will you store it on your belt for easy access? You also choose a role for your character, which grants you with base items. There’s rules for traps. weapons, ailments and elements, which gives the play group a broad set of possible combinations to factor in when hunting beasts. Overall, if you’re looking for an OSR-friendly game this is probably a great place to start, as everything in here looks like a tool set that you’ll need to pick up with an play around with a bit to see just how much it can do.
After the Great Beast, by Harper Jay.
You are a Hunter, and great beasts are threatening your village. Gather your weapon and your friends, and defend your home. Along the way, you will gather materials, craft traps and potions, and maintain your weapon, all while following the great beast's tracks.
After The Great Beast is a Breathless game inspired by the Monster Hunter franchise. 
I am so so excited about this game. After the Great Beast is Breathless, which means that it provides you with a limited number of resources, which deplete as you play. You can stop to refresh your resources, but in the process you let time get away from you - and that means your problems get bigger. I think it has a lot of potential for a satisfying loop of play, and I’m impressed at the size of this game. A lot of the Breathless games I’ve looked at in the past are under 10 pages, but After The Great Beast is over 20! This is because of the extra tools differentiating weapons, special effects, world details and beast rules. There’s even a little bestiary and advice on how to set up an adventure for this kind of game. If you want lots of different pieces to play with and a setting that’s already laid out for you a little bit, then I’d recommend checking out After The Great Beast.
Wilderfeast, by Horrible Guild.
Wilderfeast is an RPG about becoming part of the natural world by making it part of you.
Players assume the role of “wilders”: monster hunters/chefs who wield gargantuan kitchen implements and gain powerful mutations from each monster they eat. Using those powers, they seek harmony between humanity and the wild.
All creatures, be they humans or monsters, obey the One Law of the One Land…
YOU ARE WHAT YOU EAT.
Wilderfeast is a game about hunting and cooking monsters, with tactical game mechanics for the hunting portion of the game, and narrative prompts for the cooking portions. This is a game in which an eldritch virus has made kaiju-like monsters frenzied and dangerous. Your characters have discovered that killing and feeding on these monsters gives them interesting mutations. I think this game has a lot of promise, because it gives you both the chance to puzzle through combat and feel competent when you fight, while also giving you tools that give the in-between scenes narrative weight - you even partake in a ritual before eating that allows you to thank the monster for its gift!
If you want to take a deeper look at Wilderfeast, you can check out their Quickstart for free, and listen to Dave Thaumvore’s review.
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